I was prompted to write about this experience because of a bachelorette party for which I recently cooked. Not only did it jog my memory of the “gone-wild story” from several years ago, but this recent group was enthusiastic to hear about my x-rated chef experiences.
Let’s start there and rewind to a few weeks ago.
I drove to the middle of seemingly nowhere to a rented house on a small island to cook a bachelorette party. The recommendation came from an older, wealthy friend who I assumed passed along my name to guests of a similar cohort. Not the case at all.
When I arrived at the house, I was greeted by a woman who was much younger than I expected, and as I later learned the rest of the group was as well (mid-late 20’s). Not because of their age, but because of the balloons, inflatable penises, sparkly decorations, and two dildos on the dining room table, I knew this night would be…different.
As always, I don’t care who, what, when, where, or why, I never let my professional guard down until the principles do first. This was no exception.