So a bit of back story…. Loudass, Scoutmaster and the Giant Drunk Russian came out to Vegas this past Interbike with a plan to throw me a little pre-wedding bro down, which I guess kinda happened, in that we all got drunk and nearly thrown out of the Peppermill. See, of all of the people in this world, the very last person I could think of who would desire a prototypical bachelor party in Vegas, complete with all of the trim(mings) would be me.
Something a little more my speed would be hanging out with some buddies in the woods with bags of beer, a box of donuts and if a stripper happened to come along, that would be ok too.
Funny thing is, that’s pretty much what we got into this weekend.
Since my dad is my best man, and several hundreds of miles away, it was up to me to kick my bachelorhood out the door in style.
Strippers? Seen em.
Drugs? Done em.
Benders? Had em.
Woken up with a naked stranger in my bed? Only a couple times.
The point is, I haven’t been shy with my bachelorhood, so the only way I could go bigger would be to shoot cocaine straight into my balls and sling shot myself to the moon. Besides, bachelor parties have always seemed to me to be for guys who feel as though they are soon to be locked in a life of domestication and linear experiences.
With neither of those looming on the horizon, I opted for the easiest, and as it turns out, the most pleasurable denominator.
Now then, you’ve gotten this far in the post, and ordinarily I would attempt to convey the idea that this was being written in real time, but the fact if the matter is, my plan on writing a post ride report which woulda had images like this;
ended up kinda being derailed by this;
Yep, that right there is JMac… Otherwise known as JMetallicabagal, post high side of a corner, resulting in a tripple fractured collar bone.
Bummer for him, and bummer for us.
Fortunately it wasn’t a whole lot worse and happened to occur during the final minutes of our day, but the fact remains that he’s blown out and Monday’s post is for not.
So in light of this, let us all light a white candle for old JMac and burn some sage for his recovery, because crashing your face off sucks real bad, but crashing your face off, and losing a collar bone in the process is just about more than any mortal man can contend with.
At this stage in the game, my head hurts, it’s late, and we have just shuttled J off to his home with Bert the care taker.
I have no way to cleverly wrap today’s post off aside from reminding you not to crash, and if you are hankering for a really good read, you should go back and check out Friday’s post. It was like, the best thing I’ve written in months.
With that, I’m signing off. Feel free to insert something clever here.