Bachelor Party Aftermath - 11/15/2009

I was going back through my blog today and came across this entry I had from my buddy's bachelor party awhile back.  It gave me so many flashbacks that I thought I should re-post it....FYI, I was literally hungover for a week after this and didn't talk to any of these guys until the wedding.  Enjoy.   

11/15/2009 - I've had some experiences when I traveled but nothing quite like this. The goal for me on Sunday was to make it to the Raider game and home in one piece. But when you get 14 guys together for a bachelor party at a beach house in San Diego (that started on Thursday, mind you), chances are pretty slim. I'm not gonna lie, I live for this shit! The people that know me, know that THIS GUY loves this type of stuff! But the reality is, I'm 30 now and thinking I'm 21 again is pretty pathetic. From the words of my buddy Jason, "This weekend, I gave everything I had..." and fuck, did I pay for it. Fast forward to Sunday morning 4am.

After drinking for hours on the final day of this bachelor party, my goal was to crash by at least 11pm. I wasn't punking out on the rest of the guys that wanted to party, I was just doing what I thought could get me over the HANGOVER since I had the earliest flight out the next day. You guys need to understand that what I drank and ate for 3 days could kill a mature farm animal. Scary, I know. It's 4am and I wake up with the worst case of the bubble guts and for the next two hours I'd be sitting on the crapper for a 2-3 hour time frame asking God, "Why me?!" I'm tired, shaking and just want to try to shake this feeling off b/c I want to be semi-normal when I board the plane back to Oaktown. But when you realize everything you drank and the last meal you ate consisted of 3 double cheeseburgers, a big mac, extra large fry and a diet coke all under 15 minutes (my friends challenged me so how could I say no, right?), you know shit is gonna get ugly.

I get it together, head to the airport and wait to board my flight. Shit just went downhill from there...

My flights packed and the only available seating are middle seats. By the way, I hate fucking middle seats! At this point, my ass hurts from sitting on the John for hours, I feel like death and I just want to get some shut eye and keep it together. I sit by a 60 year old woman that had a body of a 10 year old girl and a fucking giant that looks like Mark Eaton (if you don't know who he is, google him. he's not pretty!). Not off to a good start. All of the sudden, I get so lucky to have a mom and her 4 year old sit behind me. Lucky me, this kid kicks my seats the whole fucking flight. This isn't helping me from yacking my guts out. Now here comes the kicker...the flight attendant does not only look like the figure skater Scott Hamilton, but the jerkoff is annoying the shit out of me, talks really loud and is wearing a red clown nose like he's fucking Patch Adams (I take one look at him and just think, "Man, this douchebag needs to get laid or something"). My head is steaming and I'm really trying to be cool at this point.

We finally take off and I'm feeling a little whoozy and I'm praying to God that I don't throw up. Not so fast...the drink orders come out and the two sitting in front of me and the woman across the way decide to purchase bloody mary's. I took a wiff of that and shit just got way real. From the bloody mary smell, that little fucking kid kicking my seat and the thought of what I just consumed for the past 3 days, I started to get that pre throw-up drool. If you don't know what that is, it's the shit that taste funny, looks like spit and once released from your mouth, you're fucked - THROW UP CITY! I gotta act fast and gotta act now. At first I looked at the seat back pocket in front of me and noticed that the barf bag they supply wouldn't even hold what I thought was going to project out of my mouth. I get up, and dart for the bathroom. This is the worst part...

I head to the back of the plane and the door's locked. I feel like shit, I want to die and feel like I'm being punished. Literally, 5 minutes later, a huge guy who looked like he could have consumed a 12 year old boy, walks out. I give him the, "Hey buddy, please get out of my way b/c I'm about to use your face as a toilet right now," look. 2 seconds later as I walked in, I realized that this guy took a shit so bad and so foul that it caused me to start projectile vomitting all over the can within seconds. I think I was throwing up so violently that I sounded like a dying sea lion. For a good 10 minutes I was heaving everything I possibly could while at the same time making things worse b/c I couldn't shake off the thought of all the Natty and Keystone Light I drank. I clean up this awful, dreadful lavatory and head back to my seat. The looks I got were not the most amusing but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do right? What a weekend and a story about my hungover ass to start the work week.