Alright, I’m talking to all of the Best Men out there looking to make their bachelor party planning a little easier. You want to know how to throw a great Bachelor Party for your Doomed Groom? Well, grab a seat and let’s get started.
Let me take a guess… If I’m correct – there should be one reason — and one reason only– that you would find yourself here. For some bewildering reason, your (insert best friend, relative, work-mate here) has rejected all better judgment and God-given common sense, gotten down on his bended knee, and made the choice to spend the rest of his years in a constant state of pain, humiliation, and frustration.
Well, he may indeed be an idiot, but you don’t have to be. The process of planning a bachelor party should – and can be – deceptively simple. With our very easy-to-understand B.O.D.Y. B.A.G. Method (and a little help from our little website here) you will find that many of your biggest decisions will virtually make themselves. With a minimum of planning, effort, and common sense on your part, you will find that everyone will have an amazing time, and the bachelor will have the best night of his (soon-to-be-over) life.
BACHELOR PARTY PLANNING – THE OLD WAY
All too often, it has been my experience when I’ve attended bachelor parties that the best men / bachelor party planners overcomplicate things by attempting to make the night all things to all people. Instead of simply focusing on the groom and what he wants, they try to please everyone, and consequently, end up pleasing absolutely no one – the least of which being the bachelor, himself. As the night drags on, the party becomes more and more unwieldy, collapsing beneath the sheer magnitude of its own weight.
Let’s see if this sounds familiar…
The night starts off at groom’s favorite pub at 7:00PM. It’s a great, fun place to begin the festivities – and they just so happen to pour a perfect pint of Guinness – an art in itself. The pub is located in the middle of the downtown, which, unfortunately, just so happens to be an area with limited parking. It’s really not a big deal, though. The Best Man tells you that he has made reservations at 8:00PM for an amazing Brazilian churrascaria on the East side that serves all the meat you can eat, carved off of long, metal spits. There’s plenty of time.
When the last guy finally arrives at 7:30PM – he’s huffing and puffing after running six long blocks from where he finally found a spot to park. No worries, though. He still has time to slam a quick Irish Car Bomb before everybody hops in the limo for the ride to the restaurant on the other side of town.
O.K. – fast-forward to 8:20PM. It’s a night game for the local basketball team. The off-ramp to the stadium has been clogged up, backing up the “expressway” for about four miles. The limo sits in bumper-to-bumper traffic as you watch the Best Man call ahead to the restaurant. He’s told that they will only hold the table for another ten minutes. Concerned, but not wanting to make a scene, the Groom whispers to you that he didn’t eat all day in anticipation of the feast that awaits him… And his stomach has started growling loud enough for passing aircraft to hear. No biggie, though. There’s plenty of beer in the cool… Hey! Where did all the beer go? Crap!
The limo pulls up at 8:29. WHEW! That was a close one, right? Not so fast. Upon arriving, the Best Man tells the hostess that your group is there, but she neglects to tell the manager. So, in keeping with what he told the best man on the phone – he has already split up the tables that were put together for your party. When he finally hears that your group has arrived, and not knowing whom he should talk to, the manager approaches the Groom-to-be’s “not-so-bright” cousin and tells him that it will be another thirty minutes before he can clear enough tables for the party. The cousin, in his infinite wisdom, neglects to tell the best man and promptly goes into the bar to get wasted on mojitos. Fed up from waiting so long, the best man confronts the manager and they end up in a yelling match, which makes everybody extremely uncomfortable.
By the time everybody is finally seated at 9:15, the waiter has started taking drink orders – and by 9:30 the first garlic marinated sirloin tips get carved. The Best Man heaves a sigh of relief. He’s only about an hour and a half behind schedule. But, dinner shouldn’t take too long, right?
Holy shit! Does the clock really say 10:30? That can’t be! How the hell can these guys eat so damn slow! You hardly notice, but the groom has “broken his seal” and has taken more trips to the bathroom than your weird, incontinent uncle. Luckily though, the last crumbs of dessert are being gobbled up and the only thing left to do is pay the check.
Oh – Dear – God. It’s almost 11:00 and the group’s cheapskate has finally, begrudgingly, flipped in the last $20.00 he owed in order to make the check even up. Everybody climbs into the limo for the drive to a strip club the Groom’s cousin frequents – and where he swears to everyone can get in for free. The Best Man reluctantly agrees, even though he had planned to take everyone to a club that was much closer and the Cousin’s is another half-hour limo ride away…
Well, that is – if the ballgame hadn’t gone into double-overtime! Yep, you guessed it. It’s the same traffic, just going the other way. Everybody who was arriving at the stadium is now leaving. The tone in the back of the limo turns suddenly quiet and lethargic. All the beer is gone. One of the Groom’s buddies, who had planned on sneaking a flask into the strip club, takes one for the team and starts passing it around early…but soon, it’s empty, as well.
Uh-oh… The bachelor has to go to the bathroom again, so the limo needs to pull over at a gas station. Luckily though, it has a mini-mart; so all the guys pile out and start to raid the beer and Twizzler section. By the time the Bachelor zips up his fly and the Best Man is able to corral everybody back into the limo, another twenty minutes have passed and it’s now close to midnight.
Everyone arrives at the strip club at 12:15 to find, much to their chagrin, that “free admittance,” is actually a relative term. Before they’re allowed in, every last guy will have to cough up $20 for a “Two Drink Minimum” consisting of a pair of flat Coca-Colas with a pre-masticated cherry bobbing in each one like a wrinkled and bloated corpse at the bottom of the East River.
To make matters worse, the limo driver approaches the best man to let him know that the car needs to leave (with everybody in it) by 1:00AM to get back in time. If he goes into overtime, it’ll cost twice the amount per hour that you guys are currently paying – not counting his tip. You quickly realize that if your group bands together to pay for an extra hour of limo time, the money put aside for the Bachelor’s lap dances will be completely depleted. So, forced with this tough decision, the Best Man relents and agrees to leave before the hour is up. Even if the groom has only forty-five minutes before he has to leave, the Best Man is going to make sure he gets his grind on.
After two or three blissful dances — and just as he is starting to get into the fun of it all — the groom and everyone else are rounded up and shoved into the limo for the ride back downtown. The Groom smiles good-naturedly nd thanks everyone for showing him such a great night, but you can tell by the look of disappointment on the Best Man’s face that he’d wished the entire night had gone better. It was supposed to be his last hurrah, but it turned out to be a fiasco of biblical proportions.
You shake your head and think that there has got to be a better way.
Well, there is…
Next… THE B.O.D.Y. B.A.G. METHODPages: 1 2