magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

I stopped into the office this morning to turn in my time-sheet for the week, and then headed up to the rented van, waiting on 50th Street, for the trip to Atlantic City for Mike.S and Dave.C's combined bachelor party.

There was a joint and a couple of Bud tallboys passed around the van on the way down (not to the driver). And the first thing that we did after checking into the Tropicana was to head down to a bar. After a couple of drinks we all went, still as a group, to find a pool, which turned out to be tiny, and then to the beach, where I, not currently in ownership of a bathing suit, sat in a white plastic beach chair and drank another beer in the sun.

Most of the party split off at this point, not content to sit on the beach and drink, and headed back indoors to, of all places, Hooters. After one round the rest of us headed back in to meet up with them. My impression of Hooters, having never set foot in one before, was not terribly far off. Pitchers of cheep beer, vegetarian-unfriendly bar food. Waitresses in tight shirts who smile at you, but as soon as they think you're no longer looking seem like they hate their jobs.

At this point, five or six beers in, we all split up to do some gambling before meeting back up for dinner. I ended up in the poker room, at a low-stakes ($2/$4) table with Greg, who's pretty into his poker game. Gambling drunk is a bad idea. I'm a pretty good poker player, and when on top of things could probably break even if not actually win some money. But drunk, I had a hard time following the probabilities and had a hard time keeping in mind that my dwindling stack of chips represented real money. Two hours later, when John.S came to find us to see if we were coming to dinner, I was just starting to sober up, but was down nearly $40. I decided to cut my losses. Greg, who seemed to be down about $20, stayed and played. (I found out later he won about $160 on the night.)

We wandered around for a while, with no real plans of where we were going to eat, and ended up at Caesar's Palace. This was about 8.30 on Friday night, and there were lines at all their restaurants. We ended up in a fairly fancy bar, which served fairly fancy (and expensive) food. I ate an overpriced (but tasty) salad, and drank a martini. Rounds of tequila shots were bought, and drank.

On the way out, there was a cute blond girl, sitting alone at the valet stand. I turned once or twice and caught her eye. The third time I turned, she was getting into her red car and driving off. 'That was my chance,' I thought.

We stopped at a liquor store on the way back to the Tropicana. Cheep beer was bought. Some hard liquor. I bought a bottle of VO and a bottle of ginger ale. And so back in the hotel, whiskey and ginger, vodka and Red Bull, more pot.

Then the strippers arrived. The whole thing made me terribly uncomfortable. It seemed demeaning to everyone involved, and I didn't know if I should be more embarrassed for us, or for them. They were all over the grooms to-be, then the best men, then everyone else. Milking each step of the act for as much money as they could. (They were already making $600. For one hour? Two?) When it came my 'turn'. I resisted. I really wasn't interested at all. 'What's the matter,' she asked, 'do you have a girlfriend?'

'No, actually,' I said.

'So what's the problem.'

And I didn't explain, but really, that is the problem. This is not a sexual thing for them. This is their job. For the guys who do have wives/girlfriends, they are just playing along. It's a bachelor party, it's what's expected. But for me? Other than a little bit of harmless physical flirting, I've hardly touched a girl in eight months. Do I really want it to be a business transaction? Obviously, no.

On top of which I was feeling the first stirrings of a migraine headache.

Later, not having had enough of strippers, or out of some commitment to bachelor party tradition, or because the alcohol was talking, everyone headed out to a strip club. By this point my migraine was in full swing, and I just wanted to curl up and fall asleep. Which, as they all left, is what I did.

I woke up at one point, head still throbbing, and turned the air conditioning down. And again when people started coming back, and climbed under the covers.