A Full Re-Enactment Of Bill’s Bachelor Party PtII

The big day has finally come. Bill’s second bachelor party, it promised baseball and beer…an honest good time, well planned out with drinks, tickets & transportation…and only a couple surprises.

The trip started perfectly, I was early and everyone else was pretty much on time, except for Weso who wanted to make sure Bill’s parent’s old house was still standing in Lemont. He was happy to report that it was still there. Our man Donovan arrived in our sparkling white limo and we were off like knights in a shining white queermobile. Seriously though…I may be focusing on it a bit too much, but six guys climbing out of a white limo at a cubs game screams something other than heteros on the prowl.

our trusty steed
Our rainbow roadmaster in all its glory.

So after we dismount our pearly white steed we head across the street to Hi-Tops bar to try and start our stay on the north side off right…I mean come on, we gotta find Billy some pussy! And honestly, I don’t know what kind of fox urine Bill was wearing, but once in the door he could barely take a step without catching the ladies eyes. You’re the man now dog!

the first of many to find out what bill means when he says he cares deeply...
Oh Billy, I know I can’t keep you forever, but don’t forget about me…

While HiTops was great, and Bill was getting a lot of action while we were there, it was time to go to the game. So we leave HiTops, cross the street, enter Wrigley buy some beers and start walking up the ramp. And we’re walking up the ramp, and turn the corner, then up the ramp some more, then around another corner, then up the ramp some more…and it keeps going like this for another 10-12 minutes. Now I understand the supply/demand economics of a Cubs game and I feel priveleged to have been invited to the festivities and I am very appreciative of Doug who did an excellent job organizing and fronting money and everything else …but… had I known we were going as far up as we were, I would have brought along some oxygen and a sherpa. And to qualify this point, when we finally got to our section, the lack of oxygen had apperently already effected the people who had arrived before us…either that or we were in the ‘persons with mental handicap’ section.

Seriously.

Section 504 Roll-Call!

The Bearded Rocking Guy:
fer real
Cubs Game, Cubs Game, Cubs Game, Cubs Game, Cubs Game…

The Headphones Lady:
the cheap seats
I’m pretty sure they weren’t plugged in to anything.

The Fishhat Guy: (Who we yelled at for most of the game to turn around, but he would only lift his fish-hat off his head each time we yelled ‘HEY FISH-HAT!’)
Fishhat!
You can’t trick me into turning around!

The Tartar Heckler: This guy was one of us. During our quest to get a good look at the fish-hat guy we had bought some hot dogs, because honestly, heckling can really build up an appetite. So the hotdog vendor passed a bunch of condiments down the aisle to us with our hotdogs. We didn’t want condiments. What do you do with condiments you don’t want? That’s right. You throw them around. Someone yelled out ‘Throw some mustard packets at the fish-hat!’ and out of nowhere this guys yells ‘Throw some tartar sauce at the fish-hat!’
tartard
TARTAR! TARTAR!

And the Turkey Testicles guy:
Bird Balls!
Seriously. Who told this guy it was appropriate to where a jacket commemorating the eating turkey reproductive organs?

So things are going well for us; we’re watching baseball, having some laughs, drinking some beer (well technically Derrick was drinking Mai Tai’s, but that is neither here nor there), and right about the seventh inning it begins to drizzle. Five minutes later the drizzle turns into a steady rain. Another five minutes and the heavens open up, the tarp goes on the field, a guy falls under the tarp and we get up to leave.

On our way down the ramps toward the exit something happened. It was something big. Bill began to float six inches above the ground and a bright light shone from above his head. It was as though bill was sent down from the heavens with a flashing sign above his head that read ‘Hey ladies, I’m still single who wants to make out take a photo with me’. And it was like the instinct that led the animals 2 by 2 to Noah’s Ark. The ladies began to show up from nowhere. Some brought gifts of incense and mihr, others brought gifts of kisses behind the consession stand. It truly was a miracle.

the one on the left is preggers, but she still wants him
Bow chicka bow bow

First there were 2, then came 3
cam-whores
Hey Billy!

Then came 3 more with kisses
uh-oh, early release
Say Cheese

When the word spread that his Bill was taking women to the holyland these 4 ladies showed up and begged for the favor of his attention. I know what you are thinking…and while ponchos are not the normal attire for an orgy, they end up working out pretty well. Oh and the one on the left only gets to watch.
in the face!
Dressed to impress

As you can see in the previous picture, Bill began to taunt the ladies with his Gene Simmons-esque tongue, which only drew in more hunnies.
ying & yang
Rock and Roll all night! And Party Every Day!

After Bill ate all the hotdogs and crackerjacks he could muster inside Wrigley Field we try to high-tail it across the street to Sluggers for some drinks, but wouldn’t you know it, there are people playing buckets on the curb, and as many have witnessed before – Bill has a disease that forces him to sit down and play buckets any time he sees them. I would have to say that his disease is getting worse though, as this time it forced him to play the buckets for about thirty seconds then jump up, put the bucket on his head and stagger around the middle of Waveland Ave. Poor bastard, if only there were a cure for this type of behavioral disorder.

After a while Bills psychosis wore off and we were able to make it into Sluggers alive. We all seemed a little bummed about the rain-out and as Bill had spent every last ounce of energy trying to leave in Wrigley Field alive, the mood seemed to drag a little.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do in this sort of situation.

I danced.

I walked slowly up to the empty dance floor with visions Dereks Dance Grooves flashing through my head. Trying to remember what I had learned in the past. Jump, Spin, Shuffle, To the left, To the left…So when I finally got to the dance floor I gave it everything I had…

While there is no actual footage of the moves that I laid down on the dance floor I found a clip that pretty much summarizes everything that I have.

one and two and...

And you know what? If worked. Hunnies started showing up out of nowhere. I don’t know their true intentions for flocking to the dance floor…maybe it was to laugh at the only idiot busting some moves or maybe, just maybe it was to dance!



We had to leave so quickly that we didn’t have time to hit the latrine on the way out…and this led to some problems a short while later.

We were heading south on LSD when Bill decides he’s got to go NOW. We empty 2 bottles of water out the window, Bill is in the very back of the limo, turns around, pulls down his pants and fills up one bottle. He hands it to D who hands Bill an empty, then directly proceeds to dump the full one out while we are blazind down Lake Shore Drive. What we didn’t know was that Bob, our driver, was watching everything we were doing and reporting it back to his boss. We found this out somewhere around 63rd Street while we were in the express lanes of the Dan Ryan going south. Bob pulled over to the shoulder and began threatening to make us either pay up and get dropped off at the police station or get out and walk from their.

Doug tried to reason with Bob, ‘Relax Bob-O, we didn’t do anything’. To which Bob responded, ‘Dont Bob-O me… i know what piss looks like!’. Bob had us by the balls. We told him we would pay up and please take us home. He pulls back onto the expressway and heads south.

95th street comes up, Bob exits, goes 3 blocks west and pulls up next to the police station. I wonder if we are gonna get booked, or just have to walk home. Turns out Bob is merely trying to scare us into paying, which doesn’t make sense cause we were planning on paying regardless.

Bob.

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