The bachelor party (Or, what I remember of it)

The bachelor party was pretty simple: They came, we drank, ate and did guy stuff. The end.

Here's a picture of us at Hooter's on Saturday night. Not pictured is my brother Pablo, the best man, who got hungry before dinner and ate, then went to go hang out with his buddy Ben who was coincidentally in town. This was a fun night. I know because I remember.

Such was not the case on Friday night, when I was determined to drink whatever the guys told me to, and I think I pretty much did until a switch came on in my head that said xXxdrunkxXx...
... the next thing I remembered was waking up in my bed, all the guys in my room talking really loudly about how drunk I was.

And thank God for Pat, for damning me for not having a hangover, despite how apparently trashed I was.

Among the great stories: Chucking a bottle on accident at a security guard. Throwing up within five minutes of entering a strip club. The guys navigating back to the apartment by the light of the stars (I'm three parsnips under Orion's belt).

On Saturday: guns. casinos. hooters. rhino. Lots of fun, not many pictures. I guess that's what a bachelor party should be...

Thanks, fellas!