This weekend was the long-awaited bachelor party of your dear blogger. Despite my best efforts, I am alive and well and slightly dehydrated. All the same, I had a great time and truly appreciate the efforts of everyone in making the weekend a memorable one for me. Understandably, several of my friends owe their wives/girlfriends a spa day or two for sticking them with the kids for a few days while they golfed, drank and recaptured college (if only for a few hours).
I would be remiss if I didn't single out my brother and best man, Jason, for putting this all together - he was a rock star and gave me what I told H was the perfect bachelor party for me - rooftop BBQ, golf (props to another groomsman, Steve, for putting together a solid invitational at Glencoe Golf Club), dinner...pass out. Yes, I did pass out. Hard. I am a shell of my former self. Most of the times its a blessing. This time it was a curse.
I don't know if it was the shots, the "t and stormy" or the beers, but by 11:30 PM - your bachelor was D-O-N-E. Oh well...pick more daisies, I guess. Phil - a college roommate - suggested that I was the worst bachelor since Andrew Firestone. While, I disagree that AF was the worst bachelor (Brad Womack, anyone?), I do agree that I let the team down - they all went out for another 2 hours in the neighborhood - I got 8 hours of sleep. Its a win-win, as far as I am concerned...lets just hope that I keep it together on the wedding day. That might be difficult if they serve tequila.