Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!

I'm off to Scottsdale this weekend for my friend Sarah's bachelorette party...and while that in itself is enough for my arm hairs to stand up with excitement and literally yell "freedom," I'm even more giddy because it will be, for a few of us, a reunion of sorts.

My sophomore year in college my dad informed me that I would be studying abroad for a semester. He could do that - seeing as how he was footing the bill for me to attend pricey Chapman University here in the OC.

Somewhere between greek week and keg stand practice I just couldn't fathom living in the same city as the Mona Lisa and Champs-Elysees and potentially missing the next big date dash. Silly as it was, I negotiated with dad a summer abroad, as opposed to an entire semester away. I was good at this, he knew, by now. He was still recovering from the summer I negotiated to spend living in Tokyo, Japan at age 15. He's still not sure how I talked him into that. Neither am I.

So in the summer of 2001, I said Au Revoir  to the City of Orange and Bonjour to the City of Lights for a 6-week program studying drinking at the Sorbonne. It would wind up being that one summer that I would never forget.

Upon arrival, I checked in to my dorm in the 14th arrondissement...the building, which I believe we called the "asylum" because of it's drab, grey, prison-like architecture, wasn't quite what I'd envisioned for my summer in gay Paris but it would make do. I met my roommate Karolina and another girl, Sarah, and by 5pm, we were out for dinner and vin blanc with a group of girls. This was going to be good, I thought.

By the end of the week, we'd gotten our bearings {and by that I mean - found the nearest cigarette shop and crepe stand and rationed out our Euros to know just how much we could spend on clothes at Comptoir des Cotonniers and still have enough left to eat drink for the week.}

The next week classes began. Juggling an intensive {think 5 hour days in the classroom} French language program and seeing the sites bars/cafes of Paris was no easy task...but I quickly found my stride {aka, I could totally hang going out all night and making it to class the next day.} It was not that much different from being at home at Chapman in that way. Plus, the drinking age was 18. Sa-weetness.

At some point {day 2 of classes}, it was clear that Sarah and Karolina were going to take a more "laid back" approach to the "Study" abroad part of the summer...aka, they were going to drop me at school, head off to sight-see/shop and then come back and meet me for lunch. As much as I wanted to jump on that train, I actually was required to pass this class in order to graduate on time. Damn. Hate it when that happens.

Along the way, I met Romi. She, too, was required to do well in her French class so we became fast friends while the other two girls were exploring the city during the day. In no time, the four of us became quite the clique and, when Romi and I weren't in class, we were all taking in the city together.

We discovered Moosehead - the Canadian Hockey bar where we didn't have to speak French to order a beer {God-forbid.} Pizza Milano - the restaurant that sat along the Seine on the Left Bank that had, literally, the best salad, bread and pizza we thought we'd ever had. The best shops - anything that said "Soldes" on the window was a good thing because that meant the shop was having a sale. And we took in all the major tourist attractions in between...though, if you ask Sarah and me, chances are we could still give you directions to Moosehead before we were able to tell you how to get to the Louvre. Sorry, dad.

Before we knew it, the summer was coming to a close and we were sharing cabs to the airport and crying as we said goodbye. We promised to keep in touch.

And we did. Especially when just after 4 weeks of being home, we were all awakened on separate coasts to the news of the tragedy that was September 11, 2001. Romi, Sarah and I quickly scrambled to get in touch with Karolina who lived in Manhattan. After a day of worrying, we got through to her. She was fine. Scared but fine.

As the years went on, we lost touch with Karolina. Facebook wasn't around to link everyone together. Sarah and I remained in contact the most. She lived in Northern California and the distance didn't seem so far.

One day Sarah called me and told me she was moving to LA. I couldn't believe we were going to be so close.

Soon after, I graduated from college, went back to Europe for the summer and, upon return, had a mid-life crisis about not having a job in the new, real-world.

I decided that moving to Australia would be a good way to run from my real-world problems. "Great! Are you going to work in advertising?" dad said. No. I was going to work in bartending. Duh. "Um, no" dad said. And he could still do that. He'd just signed the final tuition check and the ink hadn't even dried on the diploma.

He informed me that Arnold Schwarzenegger was running for governor in the recall election and he knew someone who could maybe get me a gig on the campaign. I'd be working for free, he said. But the experience would be worth it. I still thought Australia was a way better deal. At least bartenders get paid.

I drove up to LA the next day and interviewed. "When can you start?" Sean Walsh asked me. "Tomorrow?" Great. You're hired, to be a volunteer in the press office, he said. {Not to be confused with a job that actually pays real american dollars.}

Shit, I thought. I can't commute to LA from OC working those hours. Who do I know that lives in LA? Immediately I thought of my old friend Sarah. I picked up the phone and within an hour I was on the 405 with 6 weeks of clothes and an air mattress. She was going to let me crash on her living room floor.

That first night at her cute 1 bedroom in Westwood was so much fun. It was as if no time had past. We picked up right where we'd left off. Laughing. Telling stories and drinking vin blanc.

As you can imagine, I worked slaved insane hours on the campaign. I'd literally leave for work at 6:30 am and would get back after Sarah was already asleep. We barely saw each other. The six weeks flew by and at the end, I was offered a job to work in the Schwarzenegger administration in Sacramento.

I'd also picked up a pretty cute boyfriend along the way. Campaigns are incestuous that way. Luckily, Sarah approved of him. A good thing, because Eric proposed just 6 weeks later.

When it came time to pick my bridesmaids, Sarah just had to be one of them. She was, after all, my first friend to meet Eric. I couldn't imagine her not being there when I said "I do."

In 2004 when Facebook started, Sarah and I were obvious "friends" and, soon after, one of us found our old friend Romi. We never could find Karolina though. Through the years, we've all stayed in touch through the various social media channels.

When Sarah got engaged about six months ago I was so excited for her. I was even more excited when I got the email about her bachelorette party in Scottsdale and saw that Romi was going to fly out from Boston to be there as well. The countdown was on to the reunion we'd always discussed but never planned.

It's been almost 13 years since we've seen each other. And what better way to celebrate then Sarah tying the knot?

I often think back to the dinner I had with dad all those years ago. The dinner where he told me I'd be studying abroad whether I wanted to or not. I'm so glad I talked him in to that summer. I can't imagine not having made those memories or those friends.

Cheers! to you and yours this weekend, friends! I'd say it in French but don't remember how. They didn't teach us that at the Sorbonne. I'd ask Sarah but I know she has no idea. Romi?

Romi, Sarah and me circa 2001

Sarah and me

At Moosehead. A late night I'm sure.

Karolina, me and Sarah at Pizza Milano. A bottle of wine for each of us.

This pic pretty much sums up my friendship with Sarah.