I used to pride myself on my aptitude for balancing indulgence and responsibility. After a day of helping others and working hard towards my long-term goals, I would satisfy myself with happy-hour celebrations amongst gin, tonics and friends.

Don’t get the wrong idea. Health has always been a priority. And I’m neither an alcoholic nor a partier [by college standards], even if blessed with an exceptional tolerance for distilled juniper berries.

But over the past couple of years, I’ve noticed a shift. I’m in a new stage in life where ‘partying’ seems just plain unimaginative. So, I’ve chosen to redefine it.

The New Definition of Partying

To me, helping others and connecting with them in meaningful ways is The Party in that grand ballroom of life.

What drives this redefining moment is a dreaded party-filled weekend that encroaches upon me. It’s a 3-day Vegas-style bachelor party, no thanks to movies like, “The Hangover”. It’s not my bachelor party, but it is one of my best friend’s. So, I’m happy to partake in his last stand as a single man.

“Vegas style” means 2,000-dollar VIP booths, restroom fees, and sophisticated banter like, “Woooooooo!” and “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”… all night long.

I admit that might be the old me, or better yet, the ancient me. But the current me can’t help but think: For $2,000 – rather than party in Vegas – I can volunteer in Uganda.

But I guess I’ll just have to suck it up. Cheers, my friend. Vegas it is. With its women. And its booze. And its sin that never sleeps, while Uganda waits. Let’s call it my transition stage.

Hmm. Don’t ask me later how the story ends.