Six to Eight Black (Drunk) Men, Part II

Make sure you read Part I first.

So this was my involvement in the bachelor party of a wedding I'm not even attending:

After I got off work at night, I went home to quickly scarf down a leftover chicken skewer and noticed a lot of quiet, drunk men sitting in the yard, before heading off to Pix for a very ladylike evening of white wine and chocolate cake/truffle/vanilla ice cream concoctions (recommended by my old senior seminar classmate who works there). We were joined by sober, or at any rate calm male acquaintances. We lingered until midnight when they closed.

Then, as Katy mentioned, we went to pick up the guys. There were seven bachelors, and somehow we got the phrase "six to eight black men" stuck in our heads, although there were indeed exactly seven and none are black. But it seemed appropriately hysterical.

Bronwen tried to follow Katy and I as we careened madly across downtown, trying to locate the bachelors at their alleged locations. Katy left a succession of increasingly irate messages on Keith's phone when he wouldn't answer. Finally, we pulled into a gas station to wait for them to come to us.

Three of them stumbled into the parking lot. No one would get in a car except Keith. Bee decided to head back to our apartment while we waited for the rest of them. She had two free seats, and after much shouting of "get in! Get in! Do you want a ride or not?" two bachelors were persuaded to get in her car.

I got a call from her a few minutes later.

"Are you almost here? Cause they didn't want to be in my car. They kept talking like I wasn't here and saying, "Fuck it, we're in some girl's car, where are we going?"

So much for acts of kindness.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (or downtown) we were trying to persuade two more guys into the car while the bride picked up the rest of them. We lured them in by promising to salsa dance once we got home.

Once we got home, there was a swirl of activity. Steve did indeed decide to walk to get whiskey, but instead came back with mismatched beer and six-pack holder. There was indeed a cat. In fact, it was the largest cat I've ever seen. Not the fattest, although it had eaten many good meals in its day, but the largest - large head, large eyes. It was a little spooky, and it made itself right at home. Katy, trying to play hostess, curtly took drink orders while we cowered in our seats. Eventually everyone headed off into the sunrise, except for Keith and the two bachelors who crashed on our couch/floor again.

I believe the lesson in all of this is: if they insist on having a bachelor party, make them take a cab both ways.

Also, it's really funny when your roommate's mom comes by with a check, and she finds the door opened by a strange man. At least everyone was dressed by that point.