In 2018, the fall before I moved to Creston, my group of college and high school friends were talking about how we wanted to go on a trip together.
At that point, one couple had already moved to Minnesota and my husband and I were in the process of leaving Wisconsin for Iowa. One college friend landed in Kansas for a stint and another couple now lives in St. Louis.
We didn’t realize when we decided to plan a trip that it would become our lifeline to each other. Every year since that first trip on Memorial Day weekend in 2019, we’ve found a way to get together and head somewhere new.
The first year landed 12 of us in a cabin in Motley, Minnesota. None of us were married at the time, though three of those original couples have married since then.
I went all out the first year. I remember I made about 300 Jell-O shots for that trip. We did drinking olympics where we played beer pong and other drinking games for three days straight, barely needing ibuprofen in the morning. We wore color-coordinated outfits to signify our teams and we downed almost all of the Jell-O shots.
But it was also during this trip I learned how to fish, catching a little bass and some bluegill.
In 2020, we could have stopped the tradition as the COVID-19 pandemic swept through. We decided to postpone to a Labor Day trip, assuming the pandemic would surely have ended by September. Just to be safe, we booked somewhere with a pool we could just hang out by ourselves.
By the time we realized COVID wasn’t going away, the trip was non-refundable. So our smallest vacation group of eight masked up and headed out to New Orleans. We’ve talked about going back, since naturally we didn’t get the full experience.
During this trip, we woke up at 8 a.m. to take breakfast shots of Malibu. I know, I can’t believe it either. The things young 20-somethings will do. When we got to the Airbnb, we quickly realized the pool was not going to be an option. It was green and slimy.
I was frustrated because all I wanted was to swim and enjoy the nice weather of Louisiana, but there’s not much swimming in the Bayou. But this trip taught me about the power of friends picking you up. I was so exhausted from my plans going awry, and I threw in the towel. Then some of the guys came together to rent a Wrangler and a Mustang for the day. We drove out to a random beach on the Gulf Coast in Mississippi and spent the day in the ocean, away from everyone else. It was one of the best days we’ve had on a Memorial Day trip.
In 2021, we chose Panama City Beach, Florida, and I booked the Airbnb. We had flights into Atlanta and we would take a rental van from there to our destination.
A month before the trip, I got a message from the Airbnb owner saying they had decided to use the rental for that weekend and we would no longer be able to use it. They refunded us our down payment, but nothing else. I panicked, not able to find anything in PCB large enough for a group of 13 people.
Fortunately, I found one in Port St. Joe, a city an hour south of PCB. But we made it work. We took a day trip up to PCB and even went on a charter fishing trip.
But after that year, we were a little burnt out of flying and traveling so far from home. And in an exciting twist, one of our own would be eight months pregnant in May 2022.
That year we went to Frazee, Minnesota, where we stayed at my favorite house we’ve picked. It was a 10,000 sq ft mansion with an indoor waterfall and atrium and literary themed rooms. We stayed in “The Wizard of Oz” room. The girls also pulled our greatest ever prank on the boys, getting them to all show up in the same shirt without realizing it. That’s another tradition highlight for me.
We began assigning mealtimes to certain couples instead of us just putting pizzas in the oven one night and grilling burgers the rest of the time. Our food quality greatly increased with this switch. We also started having to consider newfound food allergies when cooking.
Last year we stayed in Hutchinson, Minnesota, with a new addition to our crew — my goddaughter Sophia. I was more focused on playing with the 11-month old than I was with drinking, that’s for certain. And as is tradition, it seems, we hit a hiccup. Sewage began coming up through the pipes into sinks, showers and toilets.
Our Airbnb host was on a day-long motorcycle ride and didn’t have his phone on him so we had no bathrooms for an entire day. I finally reached a plumber who came out to find the septic completely full and the backup valve broken. I got up at 5 a.m. the following day for the suction guy to come and fix it so we could get back to urinating and such in peace. We got a day refunded for that fiasco.
This year, most of us are in our 30s or nearly so. While there was certainly alcohol, I definitely had more Tums than drinks. And now for food we are preparing meals that have options without gluten, dairy, soy, peanuts and eggs. It’s tough getting old, I tell you.
With Sophia’s mom seven months pregnant with baby number two, we were again close to home, this time in Wild Rose, Wisconsin. I’m happy to report no hiccups this year. And it was the first year I let go of the reins and had someone else do the planning and booking. It taught me another lesson in asking for help.
We could have let the distance or age come between us, but instead we’ve adapted to our changes. We had just as much fun sitting around playing card games and fishing off the boat this year that we did shotgunning beers our first year. I can’t wait to continue this tradition as we grow our families and teach them how friendships can stand the tests of time.