Another fall, another giant event successfully completed and I’m more spent than a wad of dollar bills at a strip club on two dollar lap dance night. For those of you who don’t know I’m an event planner. Myself and my small band of coworkers, bosses, volunteers and trained apes plan and execute large scale hospitality events for certain other large events.
With my fall busy season coming to a quick end I should be able to get back to being updated every day, which is a good thing, if only in terms of my fingers sorely needing to get back into shape. I have fat, chubby fingers right now. Like sausages filled with words.
I couldn’t be happier with how things went this year. First of all, I got put up in the most swank hotel room I’ve ever had in all of my five years of doing this. Central Park South, 36th floor. As I was getting up every morning before sunrise to get ready, this was the view that greeted me:
So um, yeah, that was nice.
Like I just said a few times, things went really well this year. Well enough that there are no lawsuits pending, no injuries being treated and no contracts under revision. As anyone who’s in this business can tell you, that’s huge. The thing about throwing large events is that no matter how much meticulous planning you do, you’re ultimately at the mercy of fate and coincidence when it comes to how the event will actually run.
You may have spent hours carefully planning out a time line, job assignments and delivery checklists but when the time comes the only thing you can count on is that something will inevitably go horribly wrong. There are always issues, fires, things missing or boxes falling on people, etc.
That’s all I really wanted to say today, which can be summed up in the following sentence: I slept in a swank fucking hotel all weekend, worked from 6am to 12 midnight every day, soon I will have thin fingers.