That’s Allan Espiritu and Nick Prestileo.

Erik and I interviewed these two Philly legends and I keep coming back to one thing: they didn’t just run a beloved AIGA chapter—they proved that breaking the rules and questioning “protocol” is sometimes exactly what community needs.

Also, there was tequila under the bathroom sink. And cops drinking rum-spiked water ice. And a mattress that crushed Allan while they were trying to flip it to hide footprints and alcohol stains.

But stay with me here, because buried in all the chaos is something actually profound about leadership.

Allan and Nick operated ran AIGA Philly on pure improv energy. Not as a metaphor—literally “yes, and.”

Allan’s philosophy was simple: “It can’t be a job. We just got to figure out what you want to do.” His leadership style wasn’t about assigning tasks. It was about figuring out what people wanted to do and making sure it added value.

Nick just said yes to everything. Spent three days writing an email to volunteer (THREE DAYS), then became membership chair, then co-chair, then vice president, then the guy showing up to events dressed as a chipmunk because they couldn’t find a groundhog costume.

When I asked about their dynamic, Nick said something that made me pause: Allan had this “Pied Piper thing” where he could say the most ridiculous idea and 20 adults would just go “Yeah, we can make that work.”

That’s not chaos. That’s permission. Permission to try things that don’t follow the traditional AIGA playbook. Permission to question why things have always been done a certain way.

“I was tired of traditional models of AIGA,” Allan said. “The whole thing was questioning: why do we do it this way? Who told us we had to? Oh, tradition? That’s not a good excuse.”

The best example of this? The Philly retreat.

Allan wanted to host after-parties every night. Sponsored. With local Philly members invited to come meet designers from around the country. He saw it as a benefit of membership—not just paying dues, but actually getting something back.

National said it wasn’t “protocol.”

Allan’s response? “Screw it. We’re doing it.”

And they did. Every single night. Sponsored by multiple partners. Open to their local members. They basically created an entire parallel programming track that benefited their chapter while enhancing the retreat for everyone.

This is what I keep thinking about: how many times do we not do something because it's “not how it’s done”? How many good ideas die because they don’t fit the template?

Allan and Nick just decided the template was negotiable.

They got a physical gallery space when most chapters didn’t. They threw Friday night openings that became THE place to be—keg donated, experimental fortified wine donated (something called Spody that came in milk bottles and got everyone hammered off one drink). Art Chantry came and threw stuff up on the walls from a cardboard box. Line out the door.

Their headquarters before that? A church. Their bar? Under the bathroom sink in the gallery. Everyone on the board knew—if the donated alcohol ran out, check under the sink.

The cops came once. Nick served them rum-spiked water ice. They were fine with it.

This isn’t about the alcohol or the parties, though. It’s about what those things represented: we’re going to make this fun, we’re going to make this worth showing up for, and we’re going to question every rule that says we can’t.

Of course, saying yes to everything has consequences.

Like when they announced the Philly retreat in Salt Lake City. Allan was terrified to speak to a huge group. Nick’s solution? Costumes. Allan as Ben Franklin (maybe? even he doesn’t remember), Nick as Betsy Ross in a full dress with corset and pantyhose.

Allan got on stage shaking, holding the podium for dear life. Nick just nodded along in a dress, unbothered. People laughed. Allan had no idea what he was even saying.

Or like when they had leftover booze in their hotel suite and word got out. The party had “no sign of ending.” People standing on beds, crammed in the bathroom, on the tiny balcony that probably wasn’t meant to hold weight.

When they tried to clean up and flip the alcohol-and-footprint-covered mattresses, Nick ended up crushing Allan underneath one. Allan screaming “Get it off me!” while Nick couldn’t move it.

(Somewhere during all this, someone lost their engagement ring in the sink. Chris Buoni took the entire sink apart. They couldn’t find it. Someone else found it sitting on top of the trash.)

Or like when Nick got locked in a closet during their own Art Chantry opening. Texting “please help me, open the door” while Christine connected her phone to the gallery TV, so all his desperate messages kept popping up on the screen.

But here’s what Nick said about all of it: “I luckily have no physical scars or permanent damage. I don’t think I’m a full-fledged member of the 6AM club, but I’ve done it a number of times.”

That’s not a complaint. That’s just what happens when you say yes.

Nick told me something notable: “I think your mind just kinda remembers stuff that you care about.”

He can’t remember his license plate number. But he remembers everyone’s name at retreats. He remembers drinking next to the Capitol Building with someone from Austin because he just texted “hey, I’m in town.’

That’s the superpower of AIGA, he said. “If you show up in any city and find a couch to sleep on or what restaurant to eat at, just being able to text somebody.”

And I realized: that’s what Allan and Nick built. Not just a chapter with good parties and a gallery space. They built the kind of community where 15 years later, people still remember the energy, still want to be part of it, still feel connected to each other.

Erik said it perfectly during the interview: “You guys had lightning in a bottle.”

They had lightning in a bottle, sure. They had a whole working board and supporters who made it work.

But the lightning happened because they created the conditions for it. Because they questioned protocol. Because they said yes. Because they decided AIGA couldn’t be another job—it had to be fun, had to add value, had to be worth showing up for.

I keep thinking about Allan saying, “Why do we do it this way? Who told us we had to do it this way? Oh, tradition? That’s not a good excuse.”

How many chapter leaders right now are following “protocol” because that’s just how things are done? How many good ideas are dying because they don't fit the template?

What if we just... didn’t? What if we asked “why not?” more often than we asked “how are we supposed to?”

Sometimes you end up crushed under a mattress. Sometimes you get locked in a closet at your own event. Sometimes you’re dressed as Betsy Ross while your president trembles on stage.

But sometimes you build something people remember 15 years later. Something people still want to be part of. Something that makes strangers feel less alone in a new city.

And that seems worth keeping some tequila under the bathroom sink for.

Want to hear the full story about “retreat Nick” versus regular Nick? Or what Spody actually tastes like? Listen to the full episode wherever you get your podcasts.