This is my update after a long absence to my blog and also a letter to my good friend Chad. Chad has been away at an establishment of more concentrated learning, or prison as some of the laypersons would call it.
Since September 22nd my life has seen mileage and marriage, all the while I was very able to manage. I travelled from Knoxville to Wilmington to Atalanta to Negril, Jamaica to Atlanta to Knoxville. All in all, over 2200 miles, many hand rolled cigarettes, 35 Red Stripe and a hand painted piece of art from a local Jamaican artist later I ended up at a keyboard ready to tell the tale.
Headed back to Carolina Beach, NC to join friends and family and to meet up with my brother, also my best man for the bachelor party. The wedding was Saturday night and it was Thursday and time to get a little loose. We hit up a club I will allow to remain nameless. First of which was this place we will just call… Shooters. Shooters had this waitress that looked like a less talented Brooke Hogan. Not that Brooke Hogan “appears” talented, you just realize someone might be interested in doing a show about her, unlike our waitress. She smiled as the group of comedians and family delivered orders laced with jokes and jabs. My brother felt it appropriate to order me intentionally corrupt combinations of alcoholic beverages. I passed on the Sammy Adams Soltice Ale or whatever the fuck it was called and went straight for the whiskey. At one point I think I consumed a purple hooter. I only know this because I was trying to get the taste out of my mouth, which I figured I wouldn’t have to do until AFTER we left the strip club. After we had exhausted all options of continuing to buy affordable drinks and watch thirty games at the same moment we decided it was time for the guy fun.
We arrived at the club and my friend Mr. James Furey immediately recognized one of the guys sitting in his car in the parking lot. It was a gentlemen that dated a woman he collected rent from each month. After a short to-do and an awkward question of whether his tennant was working, we headed inside. Once inside we realized why you don’t do bachelor’s parties on a Thursday night in Wilmington, NC. I am not going to say these women were ugly, that would be mean and inconsiderate. I am going to say that it was obvious that the girls that paid their way through school only worked on weekends. These wicked weekday wenches were funding diapers and formula. Now, there is nothing wrong with being a mother. There is just something wrong with being a child of a stripper….
A few more drinks and the failed intention to do open mic stand up comedy at Nutt Street Comedy Room in downtown Wilmington (A club my friend Timmy Sherrill recently opened-AND IT ROCKS) I ended up on Kure Beach, outside the condo my family had rented smoking and drinking and eventually passing out.
I awoke at 7:05am on Friday morning. It was the eve of my wedding and my brother Nathan’s daughter Neveah was awake and so bubbling with excitement to show me her new dress that she had to wake me. (Apparently according to my brother she woke up before he did and went out from bedroom to use the bathroom and on the way back noticed my happy ass passed out on the sleeper sofa in the living room. She came back and said, “Daddy, some man is asleep in the living room'” After he explained who I was she decided to get dressed and show off the new dress. My mom awoke and made some coffee and off to the ocean front porch we went. When I got out to the deck, coffee in hand I realized that James had either slept on the beach or not slept at all. I felt bad because I didn’t know if in a drunken stupor we had left him out there or not… Turns out it didn’t matter. It was a BACHELOR PARTY NIGHT anywho. At least we didn’t end up with a baby and a tiger…. (reference to the movie The Hangover about a Bachelor Party that will be the first film you should watch when you get back Chad..:)
To Be Continued….