Bachelor Party Blues

There are two camps in my life

(1) The people who think i'm the life of the party. The people who think I am hooking up nightly. The people who asume I know where to go and when and theoretically could get them coke even though I don't seem to use much myself.
(2) The people who love me but ultimately think I'm wack. The people who invite me out and expect me to run home at 2am. The people who hesitate inviting me out because I might try to make out with their cute cousin/sister/girlfriend/mother and then leave without saying good bye at 11:45.

The truth is I'm somewhere in the middle. I am neither a great friend nor a crappy one. I neither stay out all night or am a shut in. In reality I am somewhere in between. But no one knows this. They just see point in time examples that reveal me to be one and only one of the aformentioned scenarios.

Regardless, its a lot of pressure. How do I live up to these expectations, its tough stuff.

Late June: I am in boston having lunch outside with my brother Balls Mahoney. The phone rings. An amiable fellow is on the other end and he claims to be the best man to my cousin, Dr. Jay. He asks my help in planning an eventual bachelor party. We agree this is a good idea. We discuss a party in NY. I am hesitant. 8 guys in NY sounds like a Sangay plan that always goes ary. However, I promise to put some thought into said plan and get back to him. Our conversation is even keeled and casual. Surprisingly so, given that I hate talking to people I love on the phone, i doubly hate talking to people I don't know. We tacitly agree that by the transitive property we are brothers, as we both consider Dr J a brother. Yes that's right, this summer I have declared everyone brother.

We confirm a plan over the next few weeks to drag J up to Manhattan - feed him a steak, get him drunk and stare at titties. I also do some research into where we could go find an illegal blackjack game in manhattan around 5am should we need to. I'll make a side comment here that long ago Manolo taught me that if you go to the right place at 5am you could find all the blackjack, crystal meth and tranny prostitutes you want. I have never understood why it was important to Manolo that I understand this as in the 7 years since I have never put this information to good use. I'm sure Manolo has though, haven't you champ?

That morning, the Bumpasaurus is meant to arrive from Florida. He is no where to be seen. Anxious calls reveal he is still in Orlando. Further calls reveal that his original flight to Newark is cancelled. His bag was checked to go to JFK but he fell asleeep and now is on a flight to laguardia landing at 10pm. He asks that I claim his back at JFK for him. I say "of course" because outer Queens is so MOTHEF*CKING convienent for me to get to. A**HOLE...

We meet up at The Old Homestead around 9pm. It's myself, Dr. Jay, the best man, Will the tool, and some other dr. We eat a great steak. Will The Tool, the youngest guy there complains a lot about his sapphire and tonic. We all mock him its fun.

We conviene with the Bump at The Maritime around 11pm. Bump is upset no one is drunk. We have a few drinks outside. Will the Tool is still complaining. Bump asks what his problem is. I suggest its simply that he sucks. Bump throws up his hands in disgust.

En route to another bar, The Wisdom of Masses is played out right before my eyes. Will the tool stops at several bodegas looking for his brand of cigarrettes. Some joke that he is looking for menthols (which I guess is a closet joke about black people, but will is very white and though he says "yooo" quite a bit I just don't get it)...the joke about him looking for Viriginia Slims more closely hits the mark...and everyone nods in a approval, their silence voting this the winning diss.

At around the 4th bar, we agree shots are necessary. We go nuts. The tool refuses to do shots. Bump calls him gay and then a fag. Bump is not drunk per se, just sort of a d*ck. Finally The tool relents, takes the shot and then proceeds to throw up immediately. I have just turned around to settle the tab so I miss the scene. It's fine Bump is on the scene. He takes the tool outside to get fresh air. En route Bump notices that Tool threw up all over Dr. Jay and grabbed him and took him to the rest room.

Watching the mexican busboys clean up the mess harkens me back to Evil in Chicago drink Mojitos till he vomited. That has to count as a "Classic" "Best of" episode "EVIL AND XTIAN hate themselves".

I decide we need to leave. Thankfully, the good people at Old Homestead gave me several free passes to Privildge. We stop at a car wash on the west side highway so Dr Jay can hose himself off some more. and Tool can wash his shoes which have vomit all over them.

At the strip club I watch A-Rod strike out 4 times in one game. ESPN replays it pitch by pitch. What does it say about me that I would rather watch that than a croatian immigrant strip? I overhear a stripper ask Jay if it's raining outside as his shirt is so wet. The Tool comes by and asks if we can go to a better strip club. I ask him to go sit still on the other side of the table and not speak to me anymore. Bump is having a good time. So am I. So is the Doctor, I guess then it's all good in the hood.

We stopped by Pizza 33 to say what's up and eat. I introduce the owner to my brother. He asks Bump if he is adopted as he looks nothing like me. Bump is visibly shaken by the thought of this possibilty and revisits this topic several times over the next week.

The next day Dr Jay and I are speaking on the phone. He thanks me as he had a fabulous time.
Next
Part 2 - Scenes from a Wedding