Saturday afternoon/night was my Bachelorish* party. The whole thing was pretty perfect. Considering I’d recently gotten a tetanus shot and have really awesome health insurance, I wasn’t too worried about what might happen. It started out earlier this week with an email from Jenni that just said this:
your bachelorish party starts at 3:30. someone will pick you up. you probably won’t have to ride blindfolded in the trunk.
Turns out that someone was Jenny (the former roommate for you long term blog readers!) and I got a text from Jenni saying they were on the second floor. I had no idea what it was the second floor of, but the other Jenny knew and that worked for me! Turns out we were headed to Brit’s and joining Katie, Bill, Missy, Matt and Jenni for some cocktails (day drinking!) and lawn bowling. Lawn bowling didn’t happen because the grass was wet. BOO.
So, we went to the Nomad and this happened:
There was mid-bocce game rain-out, delicious cider on tap and a shot of jay-mo down the hatch. Also on tap. And then, because it’s a Bachelorish party, both an excuse for day drinking and horrible ideas, we went across the street so Matt and I could have a shot at Palmer’s. I don’t know what else there is to do at Palmer’s, so we headed out for dinner.
Next stop: Mac’s Industrial! Easily one of my top 10 favorite places to eat in the Twin Cities. Jenny and I got there first and got the only table that was for more than two people. Surly was on sale for $3.75, which was the only reason I drank it. And then… things started to get foggy.
I know we walked to Nye’s next. On the way there, I kicked an empty box that probably could have been big enough to hold a severed head, but after a few beers and shots I clearly DID NOT CARE. And then I got my foot stuck in the box. Nye’s and white Russians happened. And Jenny, Matt, Missy, Jenni and I tried to make the photobooth happen.
And then even more fog. In my head. Not in the atmosphere.
The Otter and the Northeast Palace rounded out the night, in that order. Some dude pitching a pajama party bought me a shot. He was a weird fellow, but not weird enough to make me want to refuse free drinks from him.
Turns out the Otter gives you tattoos every time you pay for drinks. You know what those are good for? This:
I didn’t sing karaoke, because I couldn’t find Blurred Lines anywhere. Matt sang… some songs. We left just prior to bar close, because nobody wants to be walking out of the Northeast Palace when they turn the lights on. Jenny was a trooper and took me back home, where all was well until I looked in the mirror and was so confused about why I had three neck tattoos.
I had an amazing time. We could have sat around in bean bags and ate popcorn out of a tin and I would have had an amazing time. I feel lucky to have the friends that I do, both the ones that were there and the ones that couldn’t make it. I would only trade them for anything in the world.