It’s the one-year anniversary of FarCon, the annual Farcaster conference that brings together a few thousands people from the onchain and consumer crypto communities. I attended the inaugural event last year in Los Angeles. But the most memorable moment from my trip wasn’t at FarCon. In fact, it wasn’t at a crypto party at all. It’s when I stayed out all night by crashing an after-party for a LA flooring and real estate gala.

Let me explain.

If you’ve ever crashed a party before, you probably know the basics: You show up and act like you belong, until you do. (As it turns out, you can get through a lot life with this mindset.)

I’m sure there are crafty and strategic ways to crash parties (think: Wedding Crashers). But I never have the time or patience for that amount of planning. All of the parties or events I’ve crashed have been delightfully accidental and spontaneous. (To me, that’s more fun, anyway.)

I never expected that night would end with live llamas and a heartfelt conversation with the CEO of a flooring empire, but here we are. 

Buckle up. Here’s how it went down, and a few tips for party crashing on your own (if you’re bold enough).

Part 1: The Setup

After attending the FarCon Builder Day last year, I met some fun people, one of whom was hosting a small gathering in his palatial suite at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills. This sounded a hell of a lot nicer than the tiny bungalow I’d rented in Venice Beach. And since I figured it might be the one and only time I’d get the chance to check out that hotel from the inside, I decided to attend. With a friend. 

Part 2: The Change of Plans

Not knowing what to expect, I’d decided to wear a casual t-shirt with a floor-length skirt so that I’d be ready for anything. It ended up being about a dozen people, mingling inside and outside on the balcony overlooking LA. A fun vibe. But that suite party turned out to be quite a bit smaller than I’d expected. I hung around for an hour then decided the energy was a bit too low, and left. 

Part 3: Group Dynamics

I tried calling an Uber from my walk from the elevator to the lobby but was finding long wait times and expensive fares. Annoyed, I stepped outside to try to switch to Lyft. That’s when I noticed the crowd of formally-clad patrons, emptying out into the hotel lobby from the ballroom. The vibes were good. Energy was high.

“Are you taking an Uber or the party bus to the after party” I overhear one girl ask to another.

“Just an Uber,” she says.

“Me too,” replies the first. “Where is this party bus anyway?”

My eyebrows raise. After party? Party bus? I decided to learn more.

Part 4: Data Gathering

Armed with this newfound information, I decide to approach a new group and inquire further.

“Are you all taking the party bus to the after party?” I ask.

“Maybe if the bus were here!” one of them playfully croons back. “Where IS It, already!”

“I thought it was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago,” chirps his friend.

“Could that be it, down around the corner?” asks the first, glancing down the street. 

I follow their gaze toward the corner, where a dark bus is parked and realize this is my shot to make myself a valuable asset to the group and also acquire information.

“You know what?” I interject. “I’ll find out. Be right back.”

I slowly sashay down the street to the bus and knock gingerly on the door.

“Hello!” I call up. “Is this the party bus?”

“What does it look like,” grunts the driver back at me. “I’m trying to get ahold of George.”

“George?”

“Yeah,” he glowers. “George. He’s not answering his phone. Can you tell him I’m here already? I can’t stay on this corner forever.”

I smile warmly at the bus driver. “Absolutely,” I reply. “Let me go find George for you. I’ll be right back.”

Before I go, I call back one question: “How far is the ride there again?”

“Eh, I don’t know, should be about twenty minutes.”

“Great,” I reply, mentally clocking that for later.

Part 5: The Invitation

Since I now had a really valuable asset (a name of someone with authority), I was able to use the rest of the crowd to visually identify George. 

“Excuse me,” I interrupted a gossiping group of women who looked around my age. “Have you seen George?”

“Oh! He was just here…”

"What do you need?”

“The party bus is here,” I explain. “The driver is looking for George.”

“Omg there’s a party bus?” 

“Of course there is.”

“Is there anything more George than that…” one muses out loud.

“I know, right?” I say, reinforcing her comment. “By the way, you’re all going, right?”

“Of course, I’m starving!” one replies.

“You’re sure there’s going to be food there?” 

“There he is!” the first woman gestures, then calls out: “George! George!”

He turns and looks back toward us, carrying a trophy of some sort. Clearly, this was an award show of some kind. I walk toward him and confidently say:

“The party bus is right down there! The bus driven has been looking for you.”

“Party bus! Right!” he reached for his phone in his pocket. “Too much going on…” he scans his texts, then looks directly at me. “You’re coming, right?”

I lock eyes, rapidly assessing the situation. This is the moment of truth. 

“Oh…” I trail off. “I’m not sure I should…”

Naturally, he doubles down. “You should,” he encourages me. “Join us. There’s plenty of room on the party bus, I’ll see you down there.”

“Sounds great,” I reply.

“Don’t tell the others,” he whispers. “But I got LLAMAS!”

“Llamas!” I repeat, matching his enthusiasm, trying not to betray my confusion.

He wanders off to recruit the other party bus goers, leaving me to wonder: Where is this bus taking people?

Part 6: The Decision

After you get the invitation, you have to make the call: Do you get on the bus or not?

Now, this isn’t my first time joining up with strangers for spontaneous adventures. I’ve traveled to beaches in Brazil and BBQ’s in Texas with people I met the very same day. Once, I even crashed a house party in Paris on New Year’s Eve. Needless to say, I’ve got a bit of a track record for quickly establishing trust (and having fun) with strangers. 

It’s not that I completely throw caution to the wind. Over time, I’ve taught myself how to gather up micro-datapoints to assess the relative risk in any new situation. 

What this looks like will be a little different for everyone, but in my case, here were a few observations and hypotheses that ultimately helped me decide what to do:

Suffice it to say, I got on the party bus.

Part 7: Data Gathering (Part Two)

The twenty-minute ride in the party bus was the most stressful bit of the night for me. Only 8 people came on the bus, four women and four men. Not a lot of room for error.

While I hadn’t noticed it at first, the party bus included one of those dancer poles in the middle. Almost immediately the other three women decided to take turns dancing around it. I grimaced as I sat down. Despite my “party mode vibes,” I really didn’t want to dance around the pole. 

As an alternative way to pass the time, I decided to lean into my budding friendship with George to see how he might help me learn more about the party, this group of people, and wherever the hell we were going.

“So, George,” I started carefully. “How are you feeling about everything tonight?”

“Really good,” he replied. “I mean, of course, it’s a big change from last year, but I really wanted to show that we’re in good hands.”

“Totally, totally,” I say. 

Suddenly the song, “LoveGame” by Lady Gaga comes on the booming speakers on the bus. I could just leave it there, listen to the music. Could just zone out and give in. 

But…my curiosity gets the best of me. I can’t leave a comment like that hanging.

“Remind me,” I invite. “What…exactly changed the most from last year?”

He gives me a quizzical look. 

“I mean, it’s my first time attending, that’s all,” I explain. “So, I guess I’m just curious, as a first-timer here…what’s different?”

That gets him talking.

“Well you know, it’s my first banquet as CEO. And it’s hard work to take over a legacy business that’s been around for decades, so it’s been a big transition for everyone. That’s why I wanted to make tonight fun, you know? Just fun. To really show that we’re here, we’re back, we’re better than ever. And we are serious about llamas.”

“I love the llamas!” I encourage him, still having no clue what I’m talking about. But now that I know this guy isn’t just the party bus aficionado but the CEO of the whole thing, I dig in way deeper.

“What’s been the toughest part of the CEO transition for you?” I ask.

“Just figuring out, what are the parts of the business that were founder-led vs. the parts that are moveable for a new era. Things are changing so fast you know? I want to make sure we’re ready for the next chapter.”

We are getting into tricky territory but the girls are still dancing on the pole so I decide I just need to keep going.

“The persona of the founder always plays a big role in the shape of the company for years to come,” I acknowledge.

“Totally,” he says. 

“Did you always know you wanted to do this?” I ask.

“Yes. I’ve been in industry for so long at this point," he explains. "But obviously the reputation coming in here was huge. I had big shoes to fill.” 

“Well, from the way things are going tonight, it seems like people are having a really good time and really happy to be here,” I reply. “That’s a testament to your leadership.”

“Thanks,” he says. 

“So,” I push on him. “Now that you’re in charge, how do you want to shape things from here? Do you have big plans for the next five years?”

He stops himself for a second and gives me another quizzical look again.

“These are really deep questions,” he says. “What’s your connection here again?”

“Oh…At this event, tonight? I’m just…” I pause, searching for the right way to explain myself. “A guest.”

My heart starts pounding as I await his response.

And whether it’s the euphoria, the alcohol, the bus trip, the excitement of the llamas or the booming party bus music, I am eternally grateful that he does not ask another follow-up question. Because I’m a terrible liar.

Part 8: The Party

And just like that, the bus stops, and we arrive at the party venue. It’s a massive dance hall somewhere in Beverly Hills. Out on the street, as promised, are two live llamas, posing for photos with everyone as they enter the party venue. (As I’d eventually learn, the company mascot is a llama.) Inside there’s a 90s and early aughts cover band playing two sets of live music. There’s an open bar and a massive taco bar with food. I learn this was the annual awards show for the real estate, flooring, and architecture industry, that many of the women I’d encountered were real estate agents or brokers, which was the assumed role of me as well. 

I close the place down at 2 a.m., idly mixing and mingling with strangers all night long. I dance the night away to 90s music. For fun, I try to pose with as many people as possible with the photographer on site. And eventually I get an Uber back to my bungalow in Venice, pack up my bags and head straight to the airport for my 6 a.m. flight, excitedly recounting all of the details of my party crashing adventures to my Uber driver, who seems quite amused by it all.

It is the one time in my life that I have ever been randomly upgraded to a First Class seat in a lie-flat bed on a cross-country flight. I sleep the whole flight back to New York City.