Billy's Bachelor Party Running Blog
For Paul's account on the exact same event click here
It's been so long since I seen "The Kliq", the friends I lived with after the disbanding of Lambda Chi Alpha (more on this later) that when we got together for our friend Bill's (aka Billy, Billie, Vabilla) bachelor party, it didn't matter if it was in Montreal or Philadelphia. It was going to be an event worth blogging.
Thursday, June 14th
5:00pm- Happy Birthday Josh! After an uneventful six hour drive (seven with a stop at the Bertucci's in Wayne, PA) I am safely in Middletown for pregame Thursday. After meeting Josh's daughter Isabelle (she's napping) we break out Josh's birthday present, a Nintendo Wii and play golf. Of course, I suck. Surprisingly so does Jeff. Smokey's Tiger Woods, literally.
7:30pm- Childish activity #2, Junk Ball, Junk ball is Wiffle Ball with a gadget to cover the holes. We really are too old for this shit. This gets tired quick. On the way home, someone suggests Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner...
10:45pm- B-Dub's is as B-Dub's always is. A great time and a challenge. This time the challenge was 15 boneless wings with their hottest sauce "Blazin" and NTN Trivia. Unlike last time, I managed to escape the wings without any blindness. But there was a time I thought I would have to submit and finish second in NTN Trivia. The whole night turned around on the Kenny Chesney song "Keg in the Closet" (Huh? you say? Well here's the story... Kenny Chesney is Lambda Chi Alpha's most successful alumni, I am a close second. My friends and I got kicked out of Lambda Chi for having a Keg in the Basement of my house. So I take this song as a personal taunt. It inspires me in a strange way.)Anyway, Josh has his birthday meal. I conquered the Blazin' and won NTN Trivia (thanks to Greco's "Heroes" knowledge). This Party is off to a great start.
2:15am- Yes I'm still up. With all participants in attendance, the "Great American Pron (sic op) Swap" takes place. Having none I do not participate but the negotiations are hysterical. Interactive vs. 6 hour, 4 hour vs. anall (sic op), you've never laughed until you've heard married men try to trade pron and negotiate. Anyway two participants go home with new "entertainment" which will surely be labeled "NASCAR's Greatest Races" or "The History of Professional Wrestling". Time to call it a night, Golf tomorrow. Should be funny.
Friday, June 15
9:30am- It's very hard, when south of Columbus, OH or State College, PA to pass up breakfast at Waffle House. Its very hard for me at Waffle House to not get my hashbrowns Scattered, Smothered, Covered, Chopped, Topped, Diced, Capped* and Peppered (*I think they added Capped (Mushrooms) in the past four or five years, this is also known as "Scattered All the Way" but how fun is that to say") Now don't forget I had "Blazin'" Buffalo Wings the night before and I'm not as young as I used to be, therefore I leave without finishing my disgusting and delicious hashbrowns.
11:30am- I will never be good at golf, I accepted this a long time ago and have chosen to forego this frustrating game of unwritten etiquette (don't hold up faster foursomes, don't wipe your ass with the ballwashing towel). Yet when your friends book tee times it is my duty as a friend to at least give it the old college try, or at least play every third hole on the back nine. Jeff, on the other hand plays three times a week and is determined to win...to win the Ten Douchebags Who Don't Play Golf That Much Open. He racks his brain trying to come up with fair foursomes, stretches, breaks out his obnxiously bolbous driver and takes the course with Coach (the other decent golfer). My foursome is Josh, Smokey, Greco, and myself. Anyway golf goes as expected Josh giving the effort, Smoke doing the same, Greco and I buying drinks from the hot cart girl taking it all in. Four hours later, Jeff does win the TDWDPGTM Open and we go in.
So Josh has drank his way past a buzz and decides to ride with me. Of course when Josh drinks he gets bladder issues. One he takes care of by pissing in a Gatorade bottle and leaving it in Bill's car (at my encouragement), the other he decides to handle during a Philly traffic jam by moving to the back seat of my car and pissing into a Dunkin Donuts mug and dumping it into the street, Josh turned 30 yesterday and recently became a father. Just thought I'd remind you of that.
10:30pm- After a smooth check-in we had a hoighty-toighty dinner at The Public House. The bouncers originally barred us for wearing sneakers (which I completely agree with, once you are gainfully employed for the first time, there is no need to wear sneakers on a weekend out). After filling up on overpriced but good meat we head to the first of two strip clubs for the weekend, Show N' Tel.
(Before you prepare yourself to be either turned on or disgusted, now is a good time to disclose my theory on strip clubs. I don't say this to appear sanctimonious or sensitive, but there are millions of guys who enjoy strip clubs more than I do. If girls were giving me lap dances because of my cleft chin, blue eyes, smile, and charming false ego, that'd be one thing, but their only interest is the cash in my wallet. The same cash as the 70 year old Asian guy two tables down from me has. Sort of takes away from the turn on. That said it is a necessary and unnegotiable part of the bachelor party experience and if I were a bride-to-be, I'd be more worried about my fiance' going to real clubs where his friends don't have to give girls money to grind on them all night.)
Show N' Tel, at previous bachelor parties, used to provide some talented eye candy for us to ogle. Well, let's just say times have changed. Syracuse football hasn't declined as much as Show N' Tel in the past two years. "Desire", "Chastity", and "Angel" have been replaced by "Cyringe", "Daddy Issues", "Binge" and "Purge". One stripper "Snow" (wonder how she got that name) clings to us like a mosquito, telling us all abour her life at work and outside. Paul and Dan would ask the ladies which one they thought was older. 3 out of 5 strippers thought Paul (younger) was older. Stripper Drama arose when some guy (not in our group) tipped "Snow" in an inappropriate place with some force. Some guy got beat outside the club. I was looking at my watch at 11:00pm. The important thing was Billy had a good time and I had good blog material.
Saturday June 16
11:00am- After a night out like Friday, nobody wakes up with any time to shower or eat breakfast before its time to leave. Good thing we're playing Paintball with ourselves. As far as the blog is concerned I screwed this up. After layering up, I figured a digital camera isn't the best thing to take with you into the woods. Little did I know we would all be renting Camouflage suits. This would've been an ideal group picture, but of course my camera is nowhere to be found. Oh well.
Paintball is similar to golf in that if you want to be any good you have to play regularly (and you never play for free) and have your own equipment (which isn't cheap, either). If not, you're left renting 15 year old guns with half as many rounds and goggles which, thermal or not, fog up in your face making you a sitting duck. Guess which group I fall into?
Our referee's name is Sean. Sean apparently likes his weed as when he first greets us he's about as baked as I've ever seen anyone outside of Syracuse University.
Anyway three hours of paintball take place in two courses; one a woods course, one a hill course in which you storm a fort uphill, our favorite. Anyone that's played paintball knows when you get hit the paint doesn't tickle. I get hit on my head, face, and chest throughout the day. Whether or not I hit anyone, I don't know. I couldn't see. God bless our troops is all I have to say. I struggled at fake war.
Since we were an odd number, Sean invites an approximately 11 year old kid named Little Matt (think Gary Coleman from Different Strokes) to join our group. He is better than most of us, of course. After about six games we tip Sean about 50 bucks and he is most grateful.
6:00pm- In the downtime, most of us become Philadelphia tourists and go to South Philly for Cheesesteaks from the World Famous Pat's and Geno's steakhouses located directly across from one another. For some reason I thought the two cheesesteak places were set aside in a touristy area of Philly. Nope, right in the middle of South Philadelphia. Some went to Geno's (most recently known for the owners "English only" crusade), some went to Pat's. Some like Smokey got a cheesesteak from both. I choose Geno's and while I'm glad I did, I'd take a No. 9 from D'Angelo's over either of the two Philly Cheesesteaks. Nonetheless a jaunt like this was long overdue.
10:00pm- Time for Strip Club Number Too, the Crazy Horse Too located near Citizen's Bank Park and Lincoln Financial Field. Only one word to say, Upgrade! In fact I'm in a better mood I might throw around some money here. It wouldn't be enough to impress any one though as three guys came in to actually "Make it Rain". For those of you who don't know "Making it Rain" is throwing money up in the air in such mass amounts that it looks precipitous and makes it clear you have money to spare. Well these guys must have made it rain to the tune of $20,000. Carrying stacks of $20s and $5s Billy, Josh, and Jeff befriend them as I'm too busy trying to figure out what they do.
Were they athletes? I don't think so unless they played for the Soul, and even so they wouldn't be spending money like that? Were they drug dealers? Don't think drug dealers would be in a public area of a strip club. Think they'd go right to VIP as to not get spotted. Who knows who they were? Who cares they were nice? More importantly we knew who we were. 11 friends who don't see each other enough having a good time picking up where they left off.
Labels: Billy's Bachelor Party
