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What a way to start the week: a somewhat humorous email sent by the best man followed by the inevitable carpet bombing of responses made up of inside jokes, embarrassing pics, and random high school dudes that I probably won’t talk to. Looks like I’ve been selected to attend another bachelor party. Can’t wait.
Oh, cool. It appears the groom was kind enough to provide us with three dates that work for him. Perfect. I’m sure that won’t elicit a hilarious amount of “I can do ____, but not ____,” and “I’m a maybe for ____, but I need to check with the wife for _____.” RIP, Best Man. And wouldn’t you know it? Every one of those dates works for me! No valid excuses for this guy. Heaven forbid I sit one of these out and never hear the end of it. Guess I’ll go ahead and send the obligatory “In” response, or maybe I’ll get crazy and send a “So in.”
I think that’s number four five for me in 2015. That’s fine, though. I mean, anything for a good friend. It’s not like I’m getting absolutely killed on a mandatory wedding every two weeks for the next three months. NBD. I’ll just hit my parents up for a little cash because that’s not pathetic. But now on to the good stuff: destination. Can’t wait to choose my destructor!
Let’s weigh our options!
Fishing in Costa Rica?
Sounds cheap — international flight, beach house rental, and a chef to cook all our meals. I’m constantly getting berated by my girlfriend for not ever taking her on vacation, but I’m sure she’ll be fine with me dropping $2,500 on a beach trip to a majestic destination. And I can’t wait to bribe the Fuerza Pública so we can keep the groom’s sketchy high school friend out of jail after he buys awesome blow from the wrong dude. Yeah, this sounds like a winner.
New Orleans?
Great food, great culture, and great chance of getting shanked in an alley. I once had a buddy get in a car with a group of random chicks thinking that they were going to another bar. It was all going well until the girl riding shotgun turned around and pointed a pistol at him and robbed his ass. True story. With that being said, I totally like the idea of me arriving pre-noon, getting absolutely blacked out by the time everyone arrives, and passing out at the dinner table while the Commander’s Palace staff debates whether to kick us all out, or just me. Fuck yeah. Maybe I’ll grab a Lucky Dog on my way back to the hotel and cover my favorite Peter Millar in mustard again.
In all seriousness, New Orleans is probably the best option. I mean, aside from the fact that every time I’ve visited, someone in my group has either been robbed, involved in a fistfight, arrested, ended up at a massage parlor, or lost their wallet, it’s always a great success.
Las Vegas?
Original option here, guys. Since we’re all seasoned members of the upper-six figs club, Vegas should be a blast. I mean, you don’t even have to plan anything. We’ll just lose our shit in the casino all day, drop a few grand at Body English at night (because we’re all rich), then charge the Rhino late-night for some high-end dry humping. Glitter anyone? Sounds like a plan to me. I’m sure none of us will max out our accounts/lives on the first night, thereby forcing us to take it easy at the Venetian pool on Saturday. We don’t have mortgages or student loans, though, so looks like it’s time for more bottles for the models.
Which douche will yell “Vegas Baby!” first? Probably me. Hey, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas — until you check your Bank of America statement Tuesday morning and see that your card was run for $1,200 by the strip club. VIP was a poor choice. It was only like three dances.
I don’t know about the rest of these guys, but I’m completely pumped. I’m sure nobody at work will resent the fact that I’m taking yet another Friday off this summer. Nor will I be on the receiving end of a passive aggressive coworker hurricane the following week when I’m clearly operating at about 72 percent.
“Hope your trip was fun.” – Cathy, with that smug, judgmental look on her face like she saw that Snapchat where you’re pouring champagne on the stripper with the fake Scandinavian accent.
Can’t wait for that. I’m sure I won’t have to bite my tongue in order to not snap back, “It was fun, actually, and although it’s Tuesday, I think I’m somehow still hammered. Suck it.” But yeah, I’m in. It makes absolutely no fiscal, moral, or big picture-of-life sense, but I’m in. I’m not going to be the guy on the outside of all the inside jokes at the wedding. .
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Dave
Lawyer. Writer. Dude doing business. I'm the meatloaf guy from tv.
@dcarterruff
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I went to bachelor parties in Key West, NOLA, Austin, and Galveston last summer. Needless to say I’m still trying to re-hydrate my body and recoup my checking account.
I recently did a NOLA bachelor party. Needless to say I can’t talk about what went down, but I can say it’s advisable.
Pretty sure I’m in the minority in that I actually go fishing when I go “fishing” in Costa Rica. Most people I know that go on bachelor parties down there look at you like you’re speaking Chinese if you ask them about their trip.
Does the D stand for Dick Man?
Vegas Baby!!
Once again, a forum would be nice. Anywho… have one planned for NOLA in a few months. Any must-dos while we are there?
Don’t die
A good place to get a drink before heading to Bourbon is The Chart Room (cash only). We’ll likely cross paths if you do end up here. A lot of people like Carousel Bar inside the Hotel Montleone as a classier option. Frenchman Street is a nice change-up from Bourbon; it’s the Bourbon Street for jazz clubs, but its fun. You can walk there from the Quarter but walk down Royal Street to get there and stop at R Bar along the way.
If you can venture uptown, I’d recommend going to Bulldog on Magazine Street for day drinking. There are a couple other bars around there as well. A good place to get lunch if you’re around there is Rum House. It’s not local cuisine but it’s very good. Get the nachos!
If you can last until 2am and want to continue to rage, go to The Saint and don’t leave until it’s time for breakfast.
Red Eye in the warehouse district and F&M’s are two other adviseable stops, especially if you to go full tourist.
Red Eye is where dreams go to die.
My first night out on Bourbon preceded me waking up the next morning on a hardwood floor without a pillow or blanket, wearing a full suit and tie, and my debit card being stolen.
So basically just don’t be me circa 2011, but definitely do not wear a suit or any nice clothes/shoes that you care about.
i went to vegas, spent $1100 on a stripper at sapphire. wasnt proud
Dude.
One of my best friend’s fiance is in med school to become a neurosurgeon. Needless to say, she hates me and probably won’t let me come to the wedding, so the bachelor party will probably be the last time I ever see him.
Neat.
Yeah there really wasn’t a point to any of this.
Is that why she hates you? Your buddy bagged a keeper though.
Good story.
Good comment