The Darren’s bachelor party has come and gone–much like Darren’s bachelorhood, in fact. This time next week the Darren and the Kari will be married and, in all likelihood, creating the first in an army of very attractive children. But last night, it was time for one last fling with the boys; I’d have used the word “men” except, well, there were none of those out yesterday.
The night culminated with a five-and-a-half-hour blowout at Hess Village in Hamilton; I’m assuming it wasn’t named after Hitler’s second-in-command Rudolf Hess (he’s the one on the right), although it isn’t the first place in this great province of ours with a strange Nazi moniker. The details are fairly sketchy. I do know that there was a point where we were convinced that the actual Nexus of the Hot Girl Universe wasn’t in Kingston, but rather in Hamilton, although that might’ve been the copious amounts of alcohol talking. (That’s including several shots of Jagermeister, a l’il fellow who once took me by the hand, guided me downstairs to the washrooms at Shoeless Joe’s in Kingston and left me curled over the toilet for an hour-and-a-half.) It was a wild scene. The scene got wilder when cell phones were whipped out and calls were placed to England, where an unamused Paul was passed around like a piece of bread at a Junior ‘A’ hockey tournament. Hey, speaking of cell phones, I think I lost mine in the cab on the way home…anybody got a spare?
So single Darren is dead and awaiting his nuptials in Ottawa next weekend. The obvious highlight will be the Paul/Rohit dynamic. I think I’m actually more excited about that than the wedding itself…as is Paul, I’d imagine. More to follow!