My Bachelor Party Story: Part 1

My Bachelor Party Story: Part 1

Years ago, I went to Vancouver, British Columbia for my bachelor party.  There were quite a few of us, so we took multiple cars to get there from Washington State. It’s been a while, but I believe there were five or six cars.

I do recall riding in my friend’s red Jeep Cherokee.  We were in a convoy as we drove up Interstate 5 toward Canada.  As we approached the border, we got serious.  Being a dink at the border is a sure way to get flagged and turned away.  After a little questioning about our intentions in their country, we got waived through.

Phew…for us.

I could see other cars from our group behind us and in other crossing lanes.  Sure enough, somebody got pulled to the side for further inspection.  We couldn’t linger too long at the border, so as we drove away, we didn’t know if they were going to get through.

They didn’t.  For some reason, they were denied entry into Canada after some additional questioning.  It would be the drive of shame back to the US for them.

The rest of the group got to the hotel safely, dropped our stuff, and headed out.

For the life of me, I don’t recall eating dinner.  I just recall moving from club to club.  We were like the guys from “Swingers”, moving about aimlessly, attempting to look cooler than we really were.

Each club meant another drink.  My friends took turns buying me drinks, so I went from tipsy to stupid in no time.

One of the clubs we stumbled into was a dance club.  The place was empty when we got there, which meant the dance floor was wide open.  It was a perfect storm for the younger me, which was an avid hip-hop dancer.  I proceeded to MC Hammer and Marky Mark my way around the dance floor.

As I traversed the dance floor, I spotted a long ramp that ran along the side.  The Kevin Bacon in me had to slide down it on my knees because…I said it, Kevin Bacon.

My running start and form were perfect.  When my knees hit the floor, I slid for at least an inch or two before nearly face planting into the ramp.  My knees were burning and my pants now had holes in the knees.

That damn ramp was rubberized.

I hopped up, dusted myself off, and started dancing, again.

To be continued…

Author: lbothwell

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