The Critical 'I'

Read. React. Repeat.

Sunday, June 29, 2003

Yesterday I went to my friend Tom's bachelor party. He's tying the knot this coming Saturday. It was an intimate affair, with ultimately seven of us total.

Off the bat, we had to go with Plan B. The original plan, an afternoon/night beach crawl (basically, a bar-intensive stroll up St. Pete Beach), was canned because of the strong threat of inclement weather. Instead, we met up at a sportsbar, filled up on some wings and drinks while playing pool, then headed to friend JC's house for the rest of the night.

Unlike the hedonistic romps of generations past, this gathering was pretty tame: No strippers, no porn, no sexual debauchery at all (other than insults lobbed back and forth). This is the style of the times, as more bachelors are eschewing debauchery in favor of mellow-time. The only thing that boosted our party's rating from PG to PG-13 was the copious amount of alcohol we consumed all day and night; I guess the liberal cursing would edge us all the way to an R.

It was a good time, overall. Played some poker (which I'm not into, but what they heck; I even won one pot), played some videogames, got into some energetic conversations, laughed a lot, and collapsed into a short night of sleep. The festivities were closed by late morning with a big group breakfast at Lenny's, an area institution (I had the Gator Omelette, which was indeed an omelette with cajun-seasoned alligator meat in it; it was okay, and I got a little rubber alligator toy as part of the order!).

As always, you pay for these things later. I've been feeling like a tired piece of crap all day long. I guess I'll recover in my sleep tonight, then barrel on into an abbreviated work week (with Independence Day coming up).