Monday, August 17, 2009

A Case of the Mondays: Bachelor Party Edition

Well, I'm back from Reno. My bachelor party was a huge success. As I write this on Sunday night, I'm fairly certain I have had 6 hours of sleep between the last two nights combined. I'm not quite sure how to be diplomatic about the whole description of what went down.

My brother, Tim and high school friend, Woods, arrived in Sacramento just after noon on Friday. We loaded up my car and got on the road. The car ride was not bad at all, and we even made a stop at the In-And-Out in Grass Valley. The three of us arrived at the Peppermill without incident at around 4pm. Two of my other buddies, Kevin and Harrison, had flown in and were working out their room issues (they had gotten a disgusting room, and were moved to a more acceptable room to store their stuff and use to get minimal hours of sleep.) After taking a lay of the land we decided to start the party. Our room was upgraded to a suite in the Tuscany Tower, so everyone came up there to begin the night of debauchery. I had brought up a bottle of Jack and a bottle of Skyy Vodka. The Jack (1.75 L) was damn near polished off by the end of the first night. My other friends started arriving and that's when things got ridiculous.

We took over a Craps table, and my buddies JP and Kevin were hot rollers. They won everyone at the table hundreds of dollars, and this made everyone happy. I missed out on some of the details after that because I went to the Poker Room with Brian C. and Mike. While I was initially winning a lot, I made a fatal drunk mistake. When you look at your cards, and you see King-Jack, and flop comes Ace-Queen-Jack, your mind cannot magically change the hold cards into King-10. I am not a magician, or even someone stupid like Criss Angel. On the river, I called a bet of $100 like it was nothing, and flipped the cards over like I had the nuts. Oops. It was embarrassing and actually fairly sobering (for 4:15 am.) I ended up not being down much because we had won at Craps.

My friends came over to tell me about how a couple of them got into a fight at the night club within the Peppermill and got kicked out. Ultimately, it ended up working out because the next night the club manager made good and let the entire bachelor party in for free (they agreed that the fight was not instigated by my friends.)

So after going to sleep at 6:30am, I woke up at 10:15 to get ready for my surprise paintballing excursion. I had never been, and while I was not in the mood to do anything physical, I forced myself out of bed and into the bus driven by a dude with a hairdo as impressive as Kenny Powers' mullet. During our safety briefing (given by the same guy who drove the bus), the guy said, "All that jazzy stuff" a total of twelve times. For example, "We need you guys to keep your masks on whenever you are inside the netted area because we can't have someone lose and eye, go to the hospital, and all that jazzy stuff."
















(Update: Picture added of us after being pelted by paintballs. The two guys around me to the right were the pros that worked there.)


Once we were briefed, given jerseys, and guns, we headed in to the battleground. I'm fairly certain the adreline rush experienced during the first session cured my hangover momentarily. The first session confirmed two things that I thought were true, but was never certain about. One, paintballs freaking hurt! Two, I would be a horrible soldier. I'm a huge target ready and waiting to get pelted with balls (ok, that came out wrong, but you understand my point.) It reminded me of Little League all over when I used to get beaned at least once a game.

After an hour of games we decided to play one final round. One of the professionals suggested a game called "Terminator." Essentially, it's one-on-the rest of the group, and the one guy is invincible (can get shot as many times as they can handle without getting knocked out.) Everyone else is on the other side, and if they get hit once they are out. Guess who got to be the T-800 in this case? That's right, me. Getting pelted 30 times during that one round might actually be a low estimate. I literally couldn't see out of my goggles by the end of it. The one lucky thing was that two professional guys hopped in on my side and helped me out. Otherwise, I would've been done! Overall, paintballing was an awesome surprise and I'm happy to have tried it out. Highly recommended and all that jazzy stuff.

I'm losing steam a bit, so I'll post the second half and my final thoughts tomorrow. Until then, I'm going to sleep like a baby, well a baby who had an extremely dangerous blood alcohol level almost all weekend long...

3 comments:

GMoney said...

That hillbilly needs to rethink his grammar because:

*lose an eye
*go to the hospital
*all that jazzy stuff

aren't really related at all. When I think of "jazzy stuff", I don't think about losing crucial pieces of my body.

Tony B. said...

It was his defining catch phrase. He threw it in like many people throw in "um" when they pause and need to think about the next thing he was going to say. I've actually got one more thing to say about "all that jazzy stuff" but it relates to tomorrow's post, so I'll leave you in suspense. You are on the edge your seat right now, aren't you?

Tony B. said...

Apparently I also need to rethink my grammar- less errors for tomorrow's post- and that's a promise!