Ohhh What a Night...

It was late December, back in 63'

Something like that...

It seems all too appropriate to draft this post at 3 am. Being that 24 short hours ago, our bachelor madness had finally subsided. The fact that I woke up all of 11 hours back, should be a clear indication of what we may have achieved.

I feel I should keep this in chronological order, to avoid misplacing any details. The day at the office was ran short, by a 3:00 in Solon. Point of note, avoid doing business with 95 year old men, he was signing paperwork, and I honestly believed he might just keel over. Even yesterday, during office hours (as they're so often called), preparations were still being made. Not to say we'd assembled this excellent event in the 11th hour, but the final touches were still to be made. What you've got to understand is the plan got a few hitches implemented into it late in the game. Suddenly, we need to move the limo from Saturday to Friday, and all the guests need to be updated. It wasn't the easiest thing. I'd not say I was presumptive in assuming Saturday was the best night for this madness, but it's difficult to inquire appropriately while trying to maintain the level of surprise.

So, it's yesterday, round about 6:30. I'm trying to get out of my place, and over to mom's house. My duty at the moment was to get Reilly out of the house to get all the guests in. Unfortunately, my landlord was about, finally repairing things that should've been done well before we moved in. He's a bit chatty no less, so it took me a moment to get out of here.

I'm racing between that point where 2 East meets 90, talking to my girl on the cell because she had to leave town for the weekend. It's closing in on 7, and i'm losing my window. I get to the place, and we do the hellos. I try to be sly, try to keep up the guise, but I sacrafice a bit of the bondness to get Reilly to the coffee house. So, we're at the coffee house, Reilly orders a mocha, I opt for the same. It actually scares me that 2 mochas can cost 7 bills, and I should've made Reilly pay, simply because i'll illustrate the math on the evening a little later on. I get a call on the cell from Uncle Scott, informing me that he was at the place and only lil John was there with him. While this initially bothered me, as we were already suffering attendance issues, it served as a fine reminder of the time. Soon after I unfortunately had to sacrifice the surprise to keep us relatively on schedule.

So we're in Reilly's buick, which is infact a huge step up on my own, and not really his. We're in good fortune, because Reilly is a professional. The man drives ambulences, and usually drives them mighty quickly. So we're cruising down some side street, and i'm sure i'm sweating because we easily hit 50. Amazingly enough, we arrive at 8:03.

As we approach the house, the limo is already out front, do remember I already ruined the surprise. Lil Scotty was peeking out from the drive, to watch for our arrival. The two Thomason's had stopped by to give their good wishes as the elder was unable to join us that evening. Our attendance woes sprung from all sorts of reasons, almost all of which I blame on my own poor planning. B, Davie Boy, lil John, were there. One dark face was missing from the crowd, never to be found that evening. The limo driver was on time, not that that was really a bonus in retrospect. Our cock ass neighbor was doing his best to be an asshole, forcing the limo driver to move our evening's vessel. Round about 8:15, i declared us off.

The limo drive started with a little story telling, reminiscing as it were. Well, correction, the limo ride started with the limo driver pissing me off. For some reason he was unable to put the ride on my card... Which they kept on file. We had lil John DJ'n from our rather limited selection, mostly Kanye on the way to the restaurant. I'd called ahead, once more to push our reservations. Not that it mattered all that much, accordingly Mr. Richards who i've done some work with didn't convey our reservations to the location. Nor of course did he mention that we were to be taken care of. The limo driver was feeling a bit scrappy, why else would you take a route through east cleveland to get to the west side of town? As much as Reilly suggested it was infact the fastest route, we arrived at the restaurant at 8:48. It's quite litterally never took me 33 minutes to get to Lakewood from Euclid.

The food was great. The hibachi is always fun. I think it's the massive scrapper used to clear the remanence from the huge hot plate. Either that, or the knife skills of the chef himself. Back to you Jim. Eventually, most of us grew tired of the esteem that comes with chopsticks. Well, actually, I dropped food in my lap, and said to hell with it. I've always liked Sakura, ever since I first stepped foot in that place, it has a certain charm. Again, dinner was great, I had steak and chicken... Even though I couldn't remember for the life of me what I had infact ordered.

When we got out of the restaurant, it was already 10:15. Again, the limo driver was being a dick, he'd tried to insist that we exsist from the back door. We had to head bback to the east side, to drop lil John off, and pick up 2 very special packages. First of which, was Ricco. Being the avid party animal that he can be, we thought it best to include him in this madness. After a brief conversation with Reilly's mother, we'd picked up the second package. Being as we're almost half way into the first decade of this 21st century, this was almost an antique. VHS Porn. When we piled back in to the limo, the drinks really started flowing. There was some outrageous rule that we couldn't drink in the limo with a minor on board. Now of course that we were minor free, excluding of course Ricco's midget member. We'd stopped at the Sunoco on Euclid and 260th, I grabbed 2 duece duece's of Miller lite to start me in on my own private path to inebriation, and a liter of Pepsi for the Jim Beam. We still had the Jaggie and way too much ice. So, Jack and Coke it were for most of the rest of us. Well, Jim and Pepsi I guess, but it's really not got the same ring to it.

So, we had a few drinks on our way down to the Flats. See, the Flats is where all the good feigned affection resides. As i've in the past conveyed, strippers bother me on some level. When we got to Diamond's i wasn't really drunk. I don't think any of us were all that drunk, five reasonably sane gentlemen enter this sinful playground, and absolutely none leave. Not to say we never walked out, but we weren't all that sane.

I'd also like to further discredit the limo driver, by mentioning that he did nothing to negotiate a deal with the attendant at DMC. So we entered deep into the belly of the beast. While I think it appropriate to place a plaque above the door, something along the lines of... Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Dare To Enter, perhaps the owners percieve it as a bit morbid or degrading to the clientele. Titties everywhere. Titties masked slightly by skimpy yet expensive uniforms. Ahhh yes, the uniform of the whore... Clear heals and all. Obviously, from my retelling, I wasn't quite drunk enough to get past my moral conflicts with such a classy establishment. There was some skill in the room though. Strippers have the amazing ability to do what normal woman will not. They've got a certain mystique about them, the graceful motion it takes to come so close to rubbing your taught lil ass on my crouch without actually making contact... Skill, a skill required by almost no other profession. As much as these women all had a desirable level of ability there was this one. One of the best we'd ever met. Infact, so much we were forced to throw business her way, each individually. If there are infact a few women of the night reading through this by some dumb luck, let me let you in on an industry secret that's most definitely got to be shared. For the betterment of the whole. When you lean in, and thrust your chest into the customer's face, make an effort to moan and nibble in their ear. It'll do well for business, i'll personally guarentee it. Nothing says friendship like buying your best friend the company of a professional. We all did it, we all did it many times, for the bachelor and what not. Eventually, all of our wallets had run dry, and the attention of the professionals wained away from our bitter hearts.

Thankfully, we had good old uncle jaggie to soften the blow. The limo ride was as riotous as to be expected. We put up the retaining wall between us and the driver, so as we might smoke in the back, and really put the screws to that bastard. Even better, as our evening came to an end with him, he'd mentioned that i'd accidentally stiffed him 10 on the ride, as well as begging for a tip. Being as I'm sort of a resentful drunk, i think i might have told him to fuck himself, even if it were barely audible. B was kind enough to cover the remainder of our tab, as well as toss the sorry bastard a $20 for his efforts.

Eventually, the night drew to an end as it often does. I passed out, and when I say passed out, I mean like, i think he might be dead passed out. All in all, it was an excellent evening, memorable beyond many others like it.

All in all, Good Times.

-Rys4K

p.s.- I know I did well, Reilly left me a letter in appreciation, like i was some one night conquest of his dirty sinful past...