It is the infamous right-of-passage for a man on his way to monogamous husbandry; the "bachelor" or "stag" party. I prefer the latter. For one thing, it has less letters and for another, it is a wild animal, with horns....in addition, Hugh Hefner wanted to name his men's magazine Stag Party, but someone threatened to sue and the world is better for it.
This is easily the most important dude-only party of a man's life, and the money, planning and sin that goes into it should reflect that. A man gets three good parties in his life (not counting the wedding itself): 21st Birthday, Stag party and, assuming the first two didn't kill you, your 50th Birthday. Yes, there are plenty of great mitzvahs and French Christmases along the way, but these are the big three every man deserves.
A bachelor party, boiled down to it's base essence is this- Imagine an atom. Good, now imagine an atom with a groom for a nucleus, but instead of protons and electrons, orbiting it, you have instead strange vagina and familiar penis. This is the raw blueprint. There are many different kinds of bachelor parties, just as there are many different atoms. Some have many moving parts, others few. (If you're a science geek, you're probably already imaging Hydrogen's bachelor party) Whatever you decide, be sure it suits your character. If you're not into booze and strippers, but better like a good bird-watching, then don't let yourself be talked into anything else. After-all, it's your day, Helium.
Now, that being said, also at it's root, a stag party is really for the pleasure of the stag's best-beloved men. Speaking for myself, I can say that there are few greater delights than attending someone ELSE'S stag party. Yes, there are plenty of awkward and sometimes painful experiences for the groom. The more heinous they are, the more the crowd screams for more, and the more paper money floats through the air. It is a gift from the tribe's men to one of their own, who is on his way to leaving the pack of woman-thirsty hounds in favor of a more pastoral lifestyle with just the one woman. It is also a punishment for being so stupid as to do that same thing. The night's activities and attitudes reflects that duality.
You are now ready to Stag. But first, things you may need:
Duct tape- So useful, not only for restraining people but also to wax your labia.
Hush Money- Small bills are best. It is awkward to ask a prostitute for change, especially after what the best man did to earn her hush money.
Umbrella- To be used as a weapon, or if it gets dicey, a helicopter.
Condoms- The only things condoms work 100% of the time for- smuggling drugs in your rectum.
That thing you shake in the air that sounds like a turkey- Do I have to explain how great it would be to see 20+ well-dressed men walking into a bar to that sound?
Rattle snack Snake Anti-Venom- This just makes too much sense.
3 quarts of O negative blood- Keep it cool next to those brewskis on ice.
Slippers- They are both practical and comfortable.
70% Isopropyl Alcohol- to sanitize wounds, or to be used as hair of the dog.
Garbage Bags- Poncho, flotation device, discard evidence, prophylactic etc.
Phone card- You're cellphone will die, sometimes for good. Cops take them away when you get locked up anyway.
Vitamin A&D Ointment- You'll want to apply this to your fresh, poorly-thought-out tattoo.
Something to start a fire.
Something to put out a fire.
Things to expect...
"See, you can drink in the lobby..."
"GIN & Tonic. You fucked it up."
I had been saving my quarters for weeks, as I'm told exotic dancers fancy a tip. However, I also had a lot of laundry to do, so I got to feel the metallic sting of a handful of dimes thrown in my face instead.*
"They're strippers and I'm going to treat them like strippers."
Being booted from a gentleman's club within two hours of arriving, including having dinner.
Having one of our party wake up handcuffed to a hospital bed.
Having one of your party bleed from the ear.
Eating three dinners.
Tremendous gas.
Screaming, "Richard Dreyfuss" down Michigan Ave. At 2AM.
Hotel security final warning during, "Colors of The Wind"
Losing your dignity, along with your hat.
Paying for more than just a night's stay at the hotel.
As a general rule, the stag party isn't over until someone dies, with midgets and prostitutes naturally counting as a half. In case you were wondering, she was still breathing when we dumped her in front of the E.R. but those present and conscious all agreed it counted.*
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* = Bullshit
