There's nothing that says "congratulations on getting mairred" better than a 2 day bender in New Orleans, and this past weekend has become the newest testement to that. My brother is getting hitched this weekend, so last weekend we serenaded him with a drunken send off that classically asks Where-Am-I-and-what-the-fuck-am-I-doing...and it was better than ever. Two days in the French Quarter always equates to a lot happening and never being able to remember much, but there was certainly enough that I do remember to get down on paper to make for a fairly interesting blog.
First of all, let me give you a little background. It was a joint bachelor party combining my little bro's wedding party with Jeremy O's court as well. He's getting mairred in July sometime, and since most of the particpants know each other, we got 4 hotel rooms and invited around 20 people. Everyone was arriving at different times, so we were bouncing from room to room just bullshitting about what we were gonna do while waiting for other people to get there. All of a sudden, the room bursts into excitement upon arrival of a most animated member of the party. I don't want to name the person directly because of possible destruction to his professional career, but for all intentional purposes of this story, we'll call him Bobby.
Bobby is related to someone in the party, so although he doesn't know many of the people well (because they're mostly friends of the two grooms), he has become fairly acquainted with them over the course of the 4 trillion parties we've attended in the last few months. So he gets there, walks into the room with beers in hand screaming, "LET'S PARTY, MOTHERFUCKERS!" and going on and on. So everyone is sort of looking at him blankly while he's going "WOOOOOOO HOOOOO. Shit. Let's go get fuuuuuucked up. You ready? Huh?" and so forth. So we're making our way down the hallway to the elevators and Jeremy has to fill out this sheet of paper with all the cars on it to get some sort of comped deal on parking, to which Bobby responded with "I drive a Mercedes. A fine one...". Then he broke into a sprint to the elevator. We're all looking at each other with worried expressions. This was going to be a long night and we didn't know what the hell was up with him. Was he going to get us beat up, kicked out of places, arrested...
As our elevator is making it's way down to the lobby, there was a woman who was already on it who was standing as far away from us as she could get. Bobby looked at her and called her a whore or something before we finally got to the bottom floor and he ran through the lobby and out the door. We were all gathering up and looking at him outside the glass doors when this fat guy and his wife walked up trying to walk into the hotel. Bobby started dancing on the back of the woman, to which her husband looked at him and said "What the fuck are you doing, asshole...". When they finally were able to get inside, the man told us "You better watch out for your friend there because he's about to get some fucking stitches"
We were walking down Royal looking for a restaurant while Bobby was leading the way with his arms extended above his head in a Y, taking long strides and swinging his arms around. He then ran back to me, pointed at a pile of trash and said "Wouldn't it be cool if you ran up that ramp?"
I answered back, "Um, that's not a ramp. That's a pile of trash."
"Oh. Well... Wouldn't it be cool if it was a ramp?"
"Yes. It would be great."
We ended up at a pizza place. Bobby sat at the head of the table while everyone else tried to get to chairs the farthest away. Unfortunately Brandon, Jeremy, and Chris were the slowest to sit down and were stuck next to him. We were all talking about various things while he was knocking everything in front of him onto the floor. When the waiter came to take drink orders, Bobby looked at him impatiently and shouted "Whiskey!" Then he started telling everyone at the table that they sucked and everything was bullshit. Once he was given his whiskey and the waiter was taking food orders, he again tried to order whiskey. The waiter told him he had his whiskey to which he continued to ask for more whiskey before he finally gave up on him and started taking other orders.
I told the waiter to bring him some breadsticks. Once they'd came, he started devouring them and making a huge mess. When he'd finished his breadsticks, the waiter came to clean up the table. Bobby looked at him and said "Queer...". The waiter was like "What did you say" to which Bobby replied "Nothing." Knowing we were all doomed, Rhett called down to the waiter and said "Man, look. We're sorry about thim. He's been drinking all day and just not in real good shape." The waiter went and got a much larger waiter who started baitingly asking "IS EVERYONE ENJOYING THE FOOD? IS THERE A PROBLEM?" while glaring at Bobby. We finally managed to make it out on our own conditions while Bobby apologized for his actions. Over and over. And over. And over...
Then we made it back to the hotel to meet Joe, Adam, and Blain who had finally made it down. About half of us decided our next stop would be the hotel bar. Bobby decided he'd join us. He ordered a round of tequilla shots for us all. It was still a little early to start with shots, but we thankfully accepted, and raised to a toast of the two grooms. We all leaned our heads back and took the shot, while Bobby ackwardly dumped his all over his face. He wiped it off with his hand, sat and stared into space for about 2 minutes and then left. Although I suppose it was the thought that counted, Joe reluctanly paid his $45 tab as we eventually left the bar to take on the night.
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