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25 days to go: acknowledging our cultural heritage
Alex’s bachelor party, or at least the elements he retains memory of, was a five part affair. For months prior the details were cloaked behind a Berlin Wall of silence, until his Best Man called at 10:30 PM the night before to inform Alex that he was to show Times Square Hilton the next day at 2:45 PM with an overnight bag, bathing suit, flip flops, pad of paper and a pen.
He was excited like a kid the night before Hanukah.
“Maybe we’ll go to the beach! Or … oooh, maybe we’ll go shooting! Go Karts? Nah, we already did that for another one. Paintball, too. A beer festival? Snorkeling? Peter Lugers? ...”
It’s amazing he got any sleep at all.
After checking into the hotel, Alex was forced into a fire engine red hammer and sickle t-shirt and an authentic Russian fur-edged leather hat, despite the broiling heat; he was yelled at every time he tried to remove it. They headed to the Russian bath houses on East 9th Street for public scrub downs, then to the KGB bar, only to find it was closed. Never to be kept from their mid-day schnapps, they went to Odessa [sense a theme here? Hey, did I ever mention Alex is Russian?], then a Russian restaurant on Second Avenue, before going up to the Russian Vodka Room – where Alex was to do a shot with each reveler and write down a quote from them – and coincidentally the last part he remembers with any clarity. By the time the strippers (ironically, not Russian) arrived at the hotel room, Alex was riding the porcelain train.
That’s my boy! My one and only!
The girls and gays been asking me for months what I want to do for my bachelorette party, but suffering (ha) from too much fawning over my premaritial state these days – the engagement party, bridal shower, birthday party, and a photo shoot tonight – I told them I only wanted something simple… wine, patio, pretentious snacks.
But that was before Alex’s eleven hour Russian Cultural Festival. Now, I must compete. Penis shapped cookies. Shirts with Livesavers sewn onto them for strangers to snack on. Tiaras that blink the word “bride” and a pink veil. Strippers that look like Jon Bon Jovi. In fact, the possibilities are endless.
Consider it homage to my own native culture – Central Jersey.
comments (12)
hysterical! love the russian theme!
my man and his bachelor crew also made a trip to the baths pre-bach party where his ass was beaten with oak leaves, but thats where the russian fun ended
1 | cristina | August 3, 2005 03:58 PM
You mentioned KGB but forgot all the four other Russian themed bars that preceded Russian Vodka Room. Seth and I dranks "dirty hipsters" - a can of PBR and a shot of Jaegermeister (ick).
2 | You know who! | August 3, 2005 04:53 PM
Hey, I'm just basing my story on what the highly-hungover bachelor can recall. Which, as we know, is limited.
Dirty hipsters. How very.
3 | deb | August 3, 2005 05:07 PM
you go girl
4 | Master Foley | August 3, 2005 05:08 PM
Oh, yeah... I forgot about the dirty hipsters. That was Blue & Gold. I'm not sure how that connected to the overall Russian theme, but I've always liked the bar.
Cristina - I also had the, um... "pleasure" of the oak leave massage/pummeling, administered in the Radiant Heat room (~130 degrees F) by some dude who looked like he just escaped from a Soviet-era gulag.
5 | Alex | August 3, 2005 05:29 PM
the russian restaurant on second ave, wasn't anyway cafe, by any chance, was it?
everytime i've been to rvr, i don't recollect leaving... ah, being russian has all the perks!
6 | writersbloc gal | August 3, 2005 06:03 PM
Well, if you end up *NOT* having a bachelorette party before the wedding, you're formally invited to my un-bachelorette party, honoring all former brides that never had one of their own (i.e., helenjane) as well as us singletons that want nothing more than to wear a big faux rock on our left hand and be bought free drinks all night. At each bar, a different girl gets to be the 'bride' so by the end of the evening, I predict that we'll all be toilet-huggers ourselves, courtesy of silly guys who like to throw their cash our way. You game?
7 | Aubs | August 4, 2005 09:38 AM
OhmyGOD yes. Does that mean I get to take a trip to California? I'll go home and get my suitcase right now!
8 | deb | August 4, 2005 09:57 AM
Either we'll all convene on the Big Apple or y'all can head down to the dir-tay south here to Hotlanta.
I'll make up the spare room now.
9 | aubs | August 4, 2005 10:36 AM
Heh. My bachelorette party involved my favorite pizza place, my closest friends, a Father of the Bride viewing, and a game my MOH invented called Jennifer Jeopardy, in which said friends competed for prizes by answering questions in such categories as "Teenage Jennifer," "Ex-Boyfriends," "The Wedding," and "Jennifer and Kirk." Of course, it also involved a naughty scavenger hunt, penis straws, and a collage made out of a Playgirl magazine reminiscent of Reservoir Dogs (in that it contained a lot of dick).
10 | Jennifer | August 4, 2005 07:45 PM
My friends went the way of interesting and unique bachelorette parties for all my friends.
One girl had mini-golf, hayride and bonfire followed by pumpkin carving; another friend had a "coming of age" day - where we started out being silly like little kids, with hopscoth, sidewalk chalk and balloon fights and ended with massage appointments, girl party primping time (including henna tattoos) and a night on the town dancing; another friend had horseback riding, an afternoon picnic and an evening watching the best drag show in town.
The best part of each one was that it was tailored to the bride. There is nothing better than your friends pampering you by planning an event they just know you will love.
11 | Melissa | August 5, 2005 10:21 AM
So, flasks of Basil Haydens all around? :)
12 | deb | August 5, 2005 10:33 AM