New and different

I attended a friend's bachelorette party a few days ago, which was a very educational experience. I had never been to such a function, myself. I didn't have one when I got married; instead all my female relatives and I sat up late in my office and sewed my wedding dress. It was nice and, clearly, I still remember it. Somehow, I have managed to unintentionally avoid these events my whole adulthood.

We started out on the boat, which was a nice way to include some of the boys who would not be attending with us for the rest of the evening. The bride was given various embarassment-inducing costume items, including a bikini top made with breakfast pastries (side note: it was cute, but did give me pause to think; this is what four years of careful undergrad study left me qualified to produce? Add it to the list of weird jobs and weirder projects). We then hopped in at the hotel where several party guest would later be staying, shots were consumed at the hotel bar (another first for me, and one I'm not sure I'll be revisiting). Finally, the troops were rallied, cabs were called, and we headed for this bar.

Trashy, trashy, trashy and not in the "trashy can be edgy" sort of way that an old friend once claimed. The combination of terrible, loud "young country" music and the just-phoning-it-in attitude of the staff (perhaps because it was a Thursday and they are saving their energy for the weekend?), added to an almost predatory air from the male patrons ogling the staff and the female patrons who are encouraged to dance on the bar (another side note: boys are not permitted to do this. Does this seem fair?), made the whole place kind of creepy. And it won an award from one of the local dishrags as the best place to have a bachelorette party.

We left and headed for a different place, which I was assured is a "plastic meat-market" on the weekends, but which we had all to ourselves late on a Thursday. The DJ played decent dance music and one could get away from the noise by heading back to the bar, much better. We danced and laughed at the woman who claimed to be an ex-Dallas-Cowboys-Cheerleader trying to infiltrate our group. And eventually, we all headed back to the old-standby pub where this crowd so often gathers.

We sat at the table and just chatted for a while until one of the other regulars brought our stumbling friend inside and said the it was time for her to go home. I gathered my friend and a couple of others who decided that party had gone on long enough and out we went. A cab was flagged; knees were squished, but we were all delivered back to the hotel. I navigated the lobby and got us all into an elevator. Back at the room, good-byes were said and I left them. The night clerk thanked me as I left, the drunkard's fairy godmother.

Not bad, but I'd prefer a night at Hell any time.