It’s been about a year now since my family and I visited Nashville. I’m still remembering things that happened from that weekend, like moments of deja vu, to this day. Like this past weekend, when my brother and I were in Savannah, I saw a bachelorette party and I remembered the game we played in Nashville.

Back when we were in Nashville my brother had this impulsive reaction to yell, “Happy Birthday!” to the first group of girls with black bridesmaid sashes and one girl wearing a pink one, he saw. It was undoubtedly a bachelorette party, the girl in the pink had a tiara on like she was Cinderella and waving her left hand back and forth like Beyonce. One of the girls in the party quickly roared back at my brother howling, “It’s actually her bachelorette party. Thank you.”

Their reactions were priceless. The girl that yelled seemed like she was only one that was mad at us. A couple others had this dumbfounded look on their face while others seemed flat out mortified by us. It was something about their speechless reactions and the awkwardness that made it hilarious to us. We proceed to spend the rest of the weekend competing with each other to be the first one to spot a bachelorette party and scream, “Happy Birthday.” It became a game to us and seeing their flustered faces was hilarious to us. Each time the group of girls would go from cheering with excitement to walking down the street to like it’s their Sunday morning group walk.

I never spotted a group first. I always would hear someone yell happy birthday from a distance and would run over there to see their reactions and join in with everyones laughs. That was until our last night there, when everyone was too drunk and too tired too process how to walk and breath at the same time, I saw a group of six girls wearing sashes approaching us. I was in front of the group and shockingly the most coherent that night. I cleared my throat, and yelled happy birthday for the first time all weekend.

The girl wearing the different color sashes looked at me smiling cheesing from check to cheek and said, “Thank you, it’s my Jordan year.” That was all she said as they kept on like I was just another guy using the same lame pick up line that everyone else is probably using on her. I blew it.

We’ve always found bachelorette parties when we yelled. We haven’t been wrong all weekend. I didn’t know they celebrated birthday parties in Nashville. Of course the one time I get the chance to actually be a part of the joke, I mess it up and actually find a birthday party. At least no one was around to hear it nor would they be able to recall it. I just wanted to be apart of the joke too.