We don’t have any photos of us showing up to the wrong house,
but we pretty much looked like this.
We started off our New Year’s Eve at the wrong house.
We meant to go to our friend Shelley’s house for her New Year’s Eve party. It’s a meaningful spot for us, because when we started dating eleven years ago, Anitra took me to the same party, and we looked like this:
Click the photo to read the original blog post.
With the pandemic and other parties, it had been a while since we’d been to Shelley’s, and I led us to the wrong house — one that was two doors west of Shelley’s. We rang the doorbell, and an unfamiliar face answered.
“Hello!,” said the gentleman at the door. He was maybe about my age, maybe a little older, with glasses and close-cropped hair and a goatee. He looked like he could’ve been one of Shelley’s friends whom I didn’t know, and I instinctively walked in.
As soon as we were completely inside the house, we knew we were in the wrong place. We’d walked into a smaller gathering, made up of the couple who owned the house, and another couple who were visiting. They’d been sitting in their living room, and from the looks of it, they were having a nice conversation over what looked like a bottle of Lagavulin. Nice.
We all had a good laugh as we introduced each other and shook hands. Anitra and I were about to leave when I had an idea.
“Hey,” taking a quick guess as to their preferred era of rock music. “Have you ever heard AC/DC on accordion?”
They hadn’t — at least until last night.
