An Epic Saga of Why Bachelorette Parties are the Best.

As a single 20 something year old guy, the best case scenario for a random night out on the town with nothing planned, is somehow bumping into a bachelorette party.  The enslaught of tiara’s and sashes are almost like a bat signal for a night filled with unbridled flirting and festive party atomosphere.

The following is a story encompassing the collective recollection of about fifteen 22 year old men celebrating one friends birthday and our run in with a most epic Bachelorette Party.

After a few adult beverages pregaming the evening we hopped into a stretch navigator with a 30 of Busch and made our way into the belly of Boston, set for Landsdowne St. For those unfamiliar with the area, Landsdowne sits directly behind Fenway Park’s Green Monster, and is essentially the blue law Puritanian Boston version of Bourbon St. A row of bars and night clubs and more bars make for a main destination when having a large celebration. At the time there was a dueling piano bar located right in the heart of the strip (it has since burned down, RIP) that served as our main base of operations.

Liberally liquored up on a way to a good time we storm into the joint and take it over amidst a cloud of fun loving tomfoolery. A brief aside here to mention that I have a unique set of friends who would much rather spend the night dancing by themselves or belting out Tiny Dancer rather than cruising for chicks. We make for a good time if you make your way into a circle but are perfectly content making our own fun. After a few more birthday beers and shots with the celebratory lad we take positions around the two pianists covering some of the days hottest hits.

Requests abundant they lay into crowd pleasers, Dick in a Box and All-Star, before asking for volunteers to serenade a soon to be blushing bride on stage with some Boyz II Men. Always one to step up in the clutch, I trip over the velvet rope to the stage and announce my participation with authority. After a few inferior suitors approached, I proceeded to lay waste to them with my sensual serenade of I’ll Make Love to You. To say the bachelorette swooned and began to reconsider her pending nuptials is an understatement.

Post singing things started to heat up for myself and our group of friends as the multiple bachelorette parties witnessed what kind of studs they were working with and flocked to our area of the bar. A lot of flirtation with the birthday boy ensued, setting up pictures of him clad with tiara and sash, and even the fiancé herself. It is at this point the night tends to get a bit fuzzy but the following facts were confirmed by multiple sources. At some point 5 of us got kicked out of the bar. A couple then proceeded to notorious Cask ‘N Flaggen to continue our night but were ejected from that establishment as well.

At this point we proceeded to befriend the sausage guy, hawking grilled meat along the street as we tried to work our way back into the piano bar. Our last futile attempt was turned away as the bouncer stated, “how can I let you in your friend is right there pissing in the middle of the street.” I’ll take the mi culpa on that one as I do have a weak bladder, and the line seemed long.

At that point another bachelorette party pulled up in a party bus, and seeing no other options a few of us decided to try and hop on. Toddling back and forth between the driver trying to extricate us and the ladies whooping up what I suppose they assumed was the most elaborate strip-o-gram of all time only one lone soldier was permitted to remain on the bus.

Time for another brief aside. Now on bachelor parties the itinerary mostly sticks to drinking and debauchery, possibly a strip club from time to time. I have quickly learned that bachelorette parties entail a good amount of crafts and games. It isn’t always to sufficient to go ham wild with some drinks and dancing, you need to throw in a scavenger hunt or penis ring toss to liven it up. So unbeknownst to me one particular game this bachelorette party was playing revolved around a deck of cards that provided points if they were able to attain certain goals or objects on the bachelorette party. Well low and behold the next morning I woke up with one sock and a card for 40 points stating “get a strangers sock”. Now I can always go out and buy a new pair of socks, but what really hurt me was that I was tackled by one of my friends before I was able to get the 500 point card: “get a strangers underwear”. Apparently it’s frowned upon to drop your pants in the middle of Lansdowne St., well at least that’s what I learned from the evening. God bachelorette parties are the best.

A few funny post scripts about that evening. The lot of us did not have a designated ride home so we all had to find our own way which included the following:

-A group walking approximately 3 miles to the campus of Boston College where one of their fathers picked them up in a limo.

-A $57 cab ride back to the apartment we were pregaming at.

-My brother and his (girl friend at that point) picking the remaining lot up. A drunken friend unfamiliar to my family tree asked who the woman driving the car was, to which I befuddledly responded “it’s my lady in law”. Hence developing the best nickname for my now sister-in-law I have ever created.

 

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