Like most people in their 20s, I live for a good party. I especially live for it when it is a life event.  I am a firm believer of celebrating those close to me constantly, but something about birthdays holds a special place.  

When my close friend Bahati mentioned he wanted to have a soiree that year that hopefully would turn into an annual party which included young Black professionals, champagne and upscale cocktail attire I found the capability of cracking a smile in the cold Chicago weather.  

Being that Bahati is a native of the city, word of the party spread rapidly as invitations were spread out.  It was projected to be deemed the party of the winter, and maybe even the year.  We entered an event space that was formed by white brick walls and scuffed floors that told the stories of previous events. Taking it back for the 99 and 2000s, the event quickly became reminiscent of a senior high school prom. The room was full of the pure feelings of love for our friend and the gratitude of a night off but that was also very on. For a solid week instagram and group chats alike were filled with pictures and stories of the great night we had.  

Due to great success, it blossomed into an annual event. Moving to Dallas on a whim right before his birthday meant I was being petrified with the thought of FOMO (fear of missing out.) In true serial faux socialite status, it's an easy guess where I ended up on a Friday night. Although my bank account may say otherwise, I never have a regret over attending A Bahati Experience.