His name was Edward and he died in a white water rafting accident in Costa Rica while on vacation with his girlfriend. At the time, I was a month into my move to Cambodia. Edward and I had spoken a few days before. He was proud and invested in my decision to leave the country with no return plan, because he was the person that dragged me across Southeast Asia at the end of 2015 so we could go to the Full Moon Party in Thailand. This guy he loved to party. Every year we had to try some sort of blow out on NYE, and were only successful and handful of times, but we'd always make the attempt and usually come home to angry girlfriends. Ed loved to party, he just also liked to be in bed by 1 am. The guy contained multitudes of being a stuffy ol' lawyer with expensive tastes, possessing the heart of a skeevy backpacker, and the musical tastes of a 16 year old girl at an international high school.
Sure he loved the classics (he was a literal piano virtuoso at one point), and murder music from Tech N9ne, Eminem etc, but he just couldn't get enough of the pop and pop adjacent stuff dating all the way back to the moment I met him in 1999 when he promised me he was listening to Youngbloods... a rap group I'd never heard of. He loved the Charli XCX, Ke$ha, Lil' Wayne, Tatu, Michel Telo (The "Ai Se Eu Te Pego" song with the accordion a Brazilian dude described as complete and utter garbage), Pitbull, Tiesto, David Guetta, J.lo, Rick Ross, Skrillex, and whatever else was popular that month. As his other favorite pastime was arguing with people, he'd do things like announce his love of Nickelback just to pick fights at parties.
Music Fights
This was our dynamic for our entire relationship and it was beautiful. Since the music snob was strong in me during college, he took great pleasure in trying to convince me that the popular music was best because people liked it the most. I'd get infuriated and argue that popularity doesn't mean greatness and on and on we'd go. But the lessons continued to get through. It was through him I gained an appreciation for the club, raves, and maybe drugs (don't tell my mom) and "bad" rap music. See, there's nothing worse to someone that makes music than the fact that people who seem talentless and terrible are financially viable despite perceived grand suckitude. So when Flo Rida came out, I was pissed that a guy that rapped like Merlin from Sword In The Stone was suddenly everywhere I was. He spent about 13 and a half seconds on his name( Flo + Rida! Florida! Get it! GET IT!!!)! He rapped about women's boots AND Apple Bottom Jeans! He's basically Nelly 2.0... and I hated Nelly from the "hot shit!" of Country Grammar. That's rap generational hate right there.
How I Stopped Worrying and Learned To Love The Party
It was through Edward I learned to party. I learned to cut loose and let go of the shame of the looks, and preferences, and focus on being a bro. A real bro. Someone that goes out and enjoys the scene wherever it leads. Someone that pulls you away from joining other fights you find on the street because you're hopped up on rugby and testosterone. Someone appreciates your point of view even when he doesn't agree.
Last night, I made it a point to go out and party at a club in Asia. Coincidentally, it was the last night for one of my friends in Phnom Penh, and she picked me to hit the scene with. An honor to be sure, but as I found myself in a sweaty club in Southeast Asia, surrounded by backpackers, watching the DJ cut song after song only stopping on the one's I liked least; I was reminded of the 3 weeks Edward and I spent traveling together through the region. The clubs we hit, the Koh Phangan beach we helped destroy, and as if the DJ was looking right into my soul, he mixed in the only Flo Rida song I've yet managed to not hate. The one that Edward and I danced around to in his apartment before our big trip... Welcome to My House. I joked that Ed liked throwing parties at home because he could get to bed at 12:30 if he wanted. We laughed... In the depths of Club Love on a Tuesday night, the song came on and for a second I stopped dancing. Tears welled up in my eyes. I started to peer around to see me getting emotional, but shook it off, remembered my friend, and danced even harder.
