The Radical Rendezvous

Picture this: You’re invited to an exclusive event. A get-together with a small, curated guest list of strangers. Each of you has accepted the invitation with the promise of an off-the-wall, super social, ridiculously memorable experience; but the catch is, the event itself will remain a mystery until you get there. A few days prior, you receive a single clue: a quote from Mark Twain. “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”

The day comes and you show up to the designated meeting spot and greet the other guests. The hosts welcome you warmly and direct everyone to a big green van in which you travel to the evening’s activity: a picnic in a quaint, local…cemetery.

As you may have guessed, this isn’t a hypothetical situation. It’s a true story. I was not a guest, but a host. A host with the crazy idea to connect people by breaking the mold of casual introductions and mind-numbing smalltalk in the most radical way possible. Steamrolling the mold, in fact, with a big green van, driving into a cemetery; passengers wide-eyed, but intrigued. In the most taboo of places, we addressed one of the most taboo of topics: death. This was complemented by dining on life’s delightful delicacies. We spent golden hour seated on blankets, eating chocolate-covered strawberries, and answering the question, “What legacy do you want to leave behind?” We nibbled on croissants and homemade jam and took turns making toasts to moments we were grateful to have lived before buying the farm, going West, and kicking the bucket. (This may seem morbid, but one could argue that two hours at a stiff, stale networking event could render a human being even more lifeless, if not murderous.) In the end, our gastronomical graveyard experience and the accompanying dialogue proved to be intimate, insightful, and impossible to forget.

These are the kinds of gatherings that I’m obsessed with. Not specifically graveyard-related things, but the kind of events that are daring, perhaps cheeky, and unashamedly unorthodox, yet built on a foundation of empathy and crafted with intention. A few more come to mind:

- At a “Lovers Without Lovers” party for all my single friends on Valentine’s Day, we snapped a Polaroid of each arriving guest and taped it on the wall next to a piece of paper where others could write notes, compliments, or their phone numbers.

- To enhance a 10K fundraiser for a global humanitarian organization, we did some research and decided to forego traditional medals. Instead, runners triumphantly crossing the finish line were celebrated with a Bolivian tradition: colorful confetti and tassels woven by the Bolivian women’s co-op.

- On a smaller scale, I once ordered an assortment of plastic toy dinosaurs just before a road trip to Dinosaur National Monument. All along the journey, little dinosaurs mysteriously appeared everywhere: in luggage, on the dashboard, outside the tent. It sparked curiosity in my travel mates, then outrage, and finally laughter as I was found out days later (for lack of a solid poker face.)

And I’m not the only one! In my exploration, I’ve encountered others innovating and inviting:

- The ringleaders of the strong, indie music scene in my city collaborated on an experimental, gorgeously-executed, multi-venue, Halloween-themed music festival all around town!

- A jogger I know organized an informal half marathon in honor of Forrest Gump and now “The Gump Run” is a humorous, annual occurrence with an ever-growing pack of loyal participants.

- Some friends of mine received a 10-pound bag of carrots when we were in college and optimized it by throwing an all out carrot-themed party. (This is not a joke.)

The indie event planners are out there! They are to event planning as Sundance is to Hollywood, as Hobo Johnson is to Justin Bieber, and as Trader Joe’s is to Walmart.

I’m not saying there is anything wrong with Hollywood, Bieber Fever, superstores, or formal event planning, but there is something exciting about the untapped underground of the events industry. There are countless associations out there for professionals; the kind of people who plan conferences, weddings, and Kardashian birthday parties. But there isn’t a community for the small-scale, big-vision, gutsy-with-gusto gatherers I’m discovering. (Yet.)

I recently started a podcast called The Radical Rendezvous. From assemblies of 2 to 200, it's an exploration of the unconventional ways everyday people make time together memorable, meaningful, and magical. My mission is to excite and empower amateur event planners and grassroots gatherers. A membership format would allow me to bring this community together. It would include all the elements that make up a great event itself: connection, growth, and delight. Members could enjoy:

- Additional podcast episodes with even more juicy content.

- Templates, worksheets, and printables to make planning easier.

- A quarterly zine on special topics.

- Collaborative sessions planning events together.

- A directory of venues, vendors, and special deals.

- Surprise snail mail and surprises.

- And finally, an invite to the "Radical Rendezvous", an all-out participatory event together!

Humankind is at a unique threshold in history. A worldwide pandemic threw us into the blackout of near isolation and loneliness swarmed with its own pestilence. But something else happened too: we had a detox of massive, meaningless events and relearned what it meant to spend quality time in small ways. As things open up, we find ourselves at the crisp, steep edge of a halfpipe, ready to drop back into the rush of life as we knew it. Or just maybe, something better.

Stripped back to the basics, we have the opportunity to reconstruct event planning with a fresh focus on the most important aspect of getting people together: people. The world doesn’t have to be run by frat party alumni. I believe so heartily in the necessity for and the power of mindful event planners. There are so many soulful, significant, playful, generous, jovial, burden-lifting, paradigm-shifting, cathartic, magical, mischievous, game-changing, gut-busting gatherings to be created and shared. My purpose is to develop a membership—the only community of its kind—for grassroots gatherers who are making getting together better than ever.