Mike's Bachelor Party or One Hell of a Long Day

I mentioned in an earlier post that Thursdays are really long and painful days for me - getting home around 12:30 - 1am in the morning and then quickly turning around at 7am to make it for my 10am class. A few weeks ago I took Thursday to the extreme.

Not only did I run through my usual routine, but after my 7 - 10pm Storywriting class ended I jumped on the BART (SF's miserable excuse for a subway system) and headed to San Francisco International Airport. By the way, a one way ticket cost $8.10, which is absolutely ridiculous, and the machines don't take credit cards because the whole state is so poor that they can't afford the credit card surcharge. Anyway, I boarded a Virgin America (to be the subject of another post) red-eye to New York.

Fortunately, I was flying with mostly experienced travelers who abided by the rules of the red-eye (namely, shut up and sleep), so I was able to squeeze in a few hours of sleep. I landed at JFK at 7:30am NY time (4:30 Cali time) August 7th. I grabbed breakfast and took my familiar bus ride to Grand Central. I stopped by Zarro's Bakery to pick up a raisin challah loaf for the groom-to-be and one of their famous black and white cookies for my sister's birthday. I took the train to Peekskill where my mom picked me up. Once at home I did some light unpacking and then cranked up the AC and proceeded to crash in my bed for a few hours.

I woke up, showered and headed to the mall to pick up my tux for the wedding on Sunday. On my way home I grabbed a slice of pizza, my usual pre-drinking night meal, however my stomach which had been bothering me most of the week didn't cooperate so I ended up boarding the party bus with little more than some crackers and a bottle of Vitamin Water Revive in my stomach.

On the way down I passed up pre-gaming with the rest of the guys, hoping that the stay of execution would get my stomach back to normal. We talked, failed to figure out how to get the bus pumping with party tunes and had the Yankee pre-game as our background noise. It was a rather appropriate way to start out Mike's bachelor party.

We made good time getting down to the city but ran into traffic as we tried to cut across 33rd street. We jumped out of the bus around 8th avenue and walked to the bar, which was between 5th and 6th. It'd probably be really helpful to give the name, but I can't remember it at this point. Anyway, we had a private room rented out, that's about all we knew. When we got there Mike's dad, uncle's, cousin's husband Kevin (who set us up with this place) and Brandon where there. Our group slowly increased and they showed us to our space.

Down the stairs and a few turns later we were in, one of those places you'd see in a Kettle One commercial. Flat screen TVs on the wall, 2 pool tables with custom red felt, leather couches and plenty of space. The manager introduced us to our waitress, who would be bringing us our drinks before taking our first round orders. Myself and a few others opted for some beers (they had a great selection) and were amazed when the manager and waitress arrived with buckets, ice and a few 6 and 12 packs of our selections. 4 minutes into the party we knew this was going to be a pretty good night.

I popped the top on my first Newcastle and slowly started sipping it, worried about how my stomach would react. I figured if things started going south I could make it through the night nursing 3 or 4. Then the food came out. Our first set - a platter of pigs in the blanket and a platter of buffalo wings. Resisting would be torture, and I don't do torture. I picked myself up a pig in the blanket and popped it in my mouth hoping for the best. It was good. I walked around and gave it a few minutes to test out my stomach. It seemed like it was all clear so I went back and took a serving - around 3 and just to really test myself, a handful of chicken wings. Pigs, wings and beer in hand I grabbed a pool cue and got my game on. I'm not a great, or even good pool player at this point. I'd like to be and plan to learn how to actually be good at some point in my life. At least for now though, I look good doing it. In between shots I managed to polish off my hors d'oeuvres and my drink. Everything seemed good and so I declared myself back at 100%. In addition to the amazing food which kept coming - sliders, potato skins, chicken fingers, our stockpile of drinks, and the TVs (showing the Yankee game) we had music provided by Richie's iPod. Turned out to be one of the best parts of the night. Richie and I have very similar musical tastes. In addition to his man love for Tom Petty, we were treated to some Journey (Mike's favorite), Asia's "Heat of the Moment" and out of nowhere - the entrance music of one "The Heartbreak Kid", Shawn Michaels. Under appreciated by most people at the party, Richie, his cousins Matt and Jay, myself and uncle Sheldon were loving it to no end. We kept eating and drinking, shooting pool, catching up, meeting new people and all the things you'd expect from 20+ guys with their own separate all you can drink bar. It was great.

Once our exclusive rights to the room ended we poured out and began our walk down 33rd to Rick's Caberet. On the way we past the shining beacon of all things New York, the blue and yellow umbrella of a street vendor. I quickly ordered my first pretzel and continued walking. Outside of Rick's I struck up a conversation with the bouncer while I finished my pretzel. We discussed the phony looking-ness of the California driver's license and how you'd expect more from that state. For those of you who are native Californians, do a google image search for the New York driver's license - it's got anti-fraud measure up the arse. Anyway, according to the bouncer apparently Texas now has the fakest looking I.D.s. He said that each letter is actually a different color. I asked if it was designed by a high school girl and he laughed. I finished my pretzel and went inside. (Obviously there will be no pictures from this portion of the night).

As you know, there is a sanctity to the bachelor party, and I'm not going to violate that. All I will say is that Rick's Caberet is by far the nicest of all the strip clubs I've ever stepped foot in. I still don't like strip clubs or strippers but this place made you feel less dirty. Plus, the girls were really professional - no just jumping on you as soon as you walked in. You had to make eye contact or show some sort of interest. Which was great because it meant that I didn't have to pretend (emphasis on pretend) that I'm gay.

The party started emptying out around 2am and as we headed back towards the bus I stopped at another cart. Got myself a 2am dirty water dog and another pretzel. Now this guy, he knew his shit. He was also a purveyor of ke-bobs so he had a small open flame. After coating my pretzel in salt, he placed it over the flame which has the effect of letting the salt soak in as well as making the pretzel firm so that it crunches when you bite into it. Unfortunately I didn't take my first bite until I was on the bus or I would have gladly spent $10 on pretzels.

The ride back was fairly tame, just about everyone other than myself passed out. All in all, a great night. Good friends, good food, good drinking and great tunes. Plus, I knew I could finally sleep in the next day.