It All Started With Tears In a Strip Club…


When a healthy majority of your closest friends are dudes, it is inevitable that you will have to partake in the tomfoolery that is the bachelor party. Despite my handicap of mammary glands and inner ovaries, I was elated to fly to Miami and see my boys for what was to be an epic night of sending off the groom in style, before we all embarked on his five day wedding cruise extravaganza.  If I only knew then…

       I was ready for anything, on my person I had:

  • Fake mustaches: Check

  • Wad of dirty singles: Check

  • Waivers for innocent bystanders to sign: Check

  • My last will and testament: Check

  • Fake passports for anonymous fleeing: Check

            Since the groom had been drinking since early eve, the four of us went back to my buddy’s apartment, where we attached our fake mustaches and slammed a few Steveweisers, called a cab and stretched as we were about to become catalysts for debauchery. We were glad Florida was done with her fling with Hurricane Fay, as her husband caught the early flight home, and he was feeling frisky. The scene was set.

            After several rounds of “name that liquor” and “are those real” we decided to enter yet another strip club, where my friend decided to buy a bottle of wine and a round of beers for us to split, only to realize that we were in fact in a dry strip club and were just served non-alcoholic booze.  As it was an expensive round, naturally it was upsetting. So much to the point that my friend began tearing up while arguing with the manager of said club. This got me thinking, where does tradition end and going through the obligatory motions begin?

            I’ll permit that the only time tears are allowed at a bachelor party is when one is served non-alcoholic beverages, but what does it say about a group of friends at that bachelor party who don’t have the bachelor with them? Didn’t I mention that due to his severe intoxication we left the groom in the elevator of his hotel with a note written in crayon pinned to his shirt reading, “If lost, please return to his bride to be.” Because that’s exactly what we did, yet this did not curtail our efforts for continuing the celebration in his “honor.” I’ll tell you what it says, it says we have a commitment to awesomeness, a lot of spirit with no off switch, and could truly have a better time than anyone no matter our location. Why doesn’t everyone just do that more often instead of having a formal event?

            It turns out getting married is only an excuse for all your friends to behave badly and molest his or her inner child. It got me thinking that maybe every year I’ll be getting married, and by getting married I mean I’ll just have eruptuals instead of nuptials and throw one hell of a party. Deep down I think that’s what everybody who gets engaged before 40 really wants– to cause a scene with all their buddies– but instead feel forced to take the next logical step according to tradition. It’s not just the betrothed, friends and family seemingly are only willing to book a flight or plan a trip if there is an important special occasion brewing.  “I have to go, they are getting married.” It’s never, “I have to go they have Shetland ponies and boxed wine.” After the enclosed environment of college and people move far away and on with their lives, it’s only weddings and funerals that bring us together. Maybe once every few months or at least once a year, it may be the smart thing to just get stupid with no more motive than a good time.  I say break the mold, and gather without reason or season.