Have you ever heard of Malӧrt?

If you’re from Chicago or the surrounding area, chances are the answer is yes. Perhaps followed by a grimace, a chuckle, or maybe even a full on body shudder. Depending on how close you got to Malӧrt. My husband has an odd fascination with it, in spite of the fact that it is a reputedly terrible liqueur.

As I write this, I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve just come to the realization that his fascination is highly probably due to the fact that it IS a reputedly terrible liqueur.

We’ll come back to that later.

Last week, I had my first big birthday party since the Before Times. I was excited about it, but also curious as to how it would go, as I was bringing together clumps of disparate people, many of whom had never met each other before. One large clump consisted of writers, and although they’re largely introverted, they travel in the same circles, so even though I collected the individuals from different places, there was some commonality there.

I also had my best friend from childhood, who flew up from New Orleans for the occasion, a new friend and her husband from a book club, a guy I met at another party once that I’d lost touch with during the pandemic, a guy I played on a volleyball team with for a hot second, a couple we met through a mutual friend who has since moved away, a guy I used to teach fitness with who I now see occasionally for coffee. You get the idea. It was a mash.

In jest, I brandished the Malӧrt early on, explaining that if anyone really wanted to do shots of it, filming their reaction was a requirement.

I was surprised at how many people took me up on it. Not only that, it took on a life of it’s own. Later in the party those who had experienced its hideousness early on encouraged others to participate, and dutifully filmed them. Everyone was told that it was terrible beforehand. We did, of course, have that one guy who said it wasn’t that bad, but the reactions of everyone else did not disappoint.

I made a brilliant highlight reel for Instagram.

The party was a blast. Everyone got along great, and I got to slice a piñata in half with a sword. I don’t doubt that it would have been a blast without the Malӧrt, but the addition added another layer of hedonistic ridiculousness. The next day, several people checked in and shared photos and videos. Any headaches or lapses in memory were good-naturedly blamed on the Malӧrt. One friend even suggested that the next blog post be about the unique bond created experiencing something terrible together.

Shall we close with a little It’s A Wonderful Life flavor?

Nothing’s ever as terrible when you go through it with friends. (Even Malӧrt.)

Finding joy through shared discomfort.