My Dad Throws a Killer Party

I love my dad. He is my hero.

With that said, let me tell you about the Jesus Party.

One night my dad had a dream. In his dream God told him that he needed to throw a party. My dad woke up and taking what he had dreamed in complete seriousness, started planning this party.

A few years and a few thousands of dollars (from his 401K) later........the day of the party had arrived.

I remember that day vividly. When you reach the end of this post you will know why.

The party was being held at the prestigious North Fence Auditorium in North Fence Park.

I arrived early to assist with any pre-party preparation. That day my dad was WILDSTYLE. Completely out of control. Barking orders left and right. Setting up what looked like a space ship on the stage and two rows of Latin American flags and one Israeli flag. There was a smorgasbord of food on one side and a band set up on the other. It was controlled madness. Well somewhat controlled.

There was particular guy who showed up early. He walked up to my dad and said, "I brought the first aid kit". My dad tossed the kit aside and hurried the guy up a ladder to set up the space ship. Little did that guy know, that ladder would be his "stairway to heaven''.


The party finally commenced.

PURE MADNESS ensued.

The events leading to the next part of the story are vague. A lot of yelling on my dad's part and a lot of people eating.

Here's where it gets good or bad or just plain ugly......

My dad gets on the mic (there was a full professional sound system) and says while in the background the best of ELIM music plays:

"Todas las mujeres........bailen para el Señor!"

"Todas las mujeres" got up and danced like they were 15 again and back in their homelands.

My dad gets the mic after "todas las mujeres" finished they holy slam dancing and says:

"Ahora, todos los varones..........dancen para el Señor!"

"Todos los varones" got up and rocked the dance floor. I saw a plethora of Central American dance moves!

All of a sudden the men formed a circle. I thought there was a break dancing battle going on. But no one was dancing. All the "varones" were just standing there looking down at the floor.

My brother Jazz and I were the only real Americans there so we hurried to the circle to see what the commotion was all about. Once we got through the wall of "varones" we see a guy laying on the floor. A guy had PLOPed and was laying on the floor unconscious. Like I said, Jazz and I were the only Americans there so we did what is normal when someone PLOPs, we called 9-1-1. For some reason one of the dancing with the stars finalist decides to give the PLOPed gentleman what looked like Salvadorian CPR. What I mean by this (and if you are Salvadorian...sorry) is the guy was attempting to give the guy CPR but was pushing in the wrong area. Instead of where the rib cage begins he was pounding on his chest! While some other "varones" fanned the guy with paper plates yelling "Delen aire!". Give him air??? Are you serious!

The ambulance finally showed up and took the guy away.

At this point Jazz and I were thinking:

"That's it. Party's over."

But my dad was thinking otherwise......

"Que siga la fiesta!"

And sure enough, the party continued to POP!

An hour or so later, the news had reached the still popping party that the guy had died. That officially "killed" the mood.

The party was over.

The guy who died was the same guy that brought the first aid kit. I can only wonder about the irony. Did he know he would be needing first aid that day?

The funeral was the following Monday.

After the funeral, on Sunday my dad went to his church and spoke of the event he had held at the North Fence Auditorium. He said the party was a complete success. He also said the guy that died, didn't die in vain. That he was a "sacrifice".

(finally) PLOP!

My dad had a dream just like MLK. Looks like those kinds of dreams are killer.