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#1
06-15-2004, 03:31 PM
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A trip report
So my friend since little decides he's going to up and get married. We're 23 years old, but he's a fairly religious Jew and well, they get married fast. The bride is nice, I'll even give her cute. But she's taking away my boy (who's a solid defenceman, I might add), and weekends will never be the same.
What do you do? You throw him a good ol' fashioned bachelor party. We arrive at the Tyrolean resort near Collingwood at around 7:30 pm on Friday night, with 4 cases of Kokanee, 4 Labatt Blue, 2 Keith's India Pale Ale, and 4 Molson Canadian. In addition, there are 3 bottles of scotch (religious Jews are big scotch/rye drinkers), 2 bottles of Absolut vodka, 2 more of Iceberg vodka, 6 ounces of weed, and a box of Cohibas, fresh off the boat from Cuba. The weather is beauty, the sun is still out, 17 of us have a huge chalet, and 2 days of the rowdiest drunkenest Jews you ever saw. Jonny really wants to make you another drink Jay, the bachelor, has been issued a water bottle full of vodka/Red Bull, which he has slowly been sipping through a straw. When he goes to throw a ball around outside, he leaves it surreptitiously on the table. Unfortunately, this is not permitted at Tyrolean Village resorts; out comes the duct tape. His game of catch ends there. By 8:30pm, he's swearing at passing motorists, including the patrol car that, after a few rounds of negotiations regarding our noise level, suggested we tie him down. Shabbat is a big deal: it is the end of a long hard week of work and is time to spend at home relaxing. But it is also a time to celebrate another week of life, and what better way to celebrate than by popping the first bottle of scotch? Now, we rented both halves of a chalet that is designed to hold two separate renters. The top floor is a massive room with TV, couches, a bar and a 20 foot balcony on one side, and a dinner table and kitchen on the other. The main floor and basement held 4 bedrooms and two bathrooms each - needless to say, most of the dinner and party festivities were on the top floors. The traditional Shabbat meal of chicken, salad, cholent, and vegetables was interrupted regularly for toasts to the groom. When he began to slow down, it took little work to convince him to down the last gallon or so of vodka; our resident bartender, Jonny so desperately wanted him to finish that water bottle, that we had to hold the groom down, stuff the straw into his mouth, and plug his nose. By 11:30, Jay is face down in the toilet bowl. I decide to bring him a pillow and blanket, and he is sleeping on the pillow, which is propped against the back of the toilet, and covered in the blanket. At 4am, I pass out in bed. Friday night scorecard: 3 cases of beer, 2 bottles of scotch, 1 bottle of Absolute, 1.5 ounces of the finest greens available from British Columbia. Another country heard from I am woken on Saturday morning at 7:30 am by a well-swung pillow to the face. Jay is raging, "You assholes!" Shoes are flying, his sock is in my nose, my covers are gone, and a cup of water (hopefully not from the used toilet bowl) finds its way into my face. My roommate suddenly is roused. "How many people are in here?" "Just Jay." "Get the fuck out." We subdue him, convince him to go back to bed, at which point he informs me that his sheets are still in the washroom, and I am in his bed. Beer, Bud, and Baseball By 11 am, we're headed to a baseball diamond to play a little softball. By noon, the game has lost our interest and leaves us little recourse. Someone heads back to the chalet, and returns with 2 cases of beer and an ounce of nugs. Jay, who is slowly recovering from his night, has disappeared from his post in center field. Before long, we find him in the bushes behind the fence returning his Friday night meal to mother nature. Excellent. We have smoked joints every other inning, thinly disguised as infield meetings on the mound. By the 3rd meeting, the other team has figured out what is happening and a bat narrowly misses the group. Play ball! Off Topic Poker content We return to the chalet where the poker begins. I, frankly, don't remember any hands as I was drunk and stoned but somehow managed to control over half the money on the table. No difficult feat, as I had seen hands turned over that would make Gus Hansen blush. It begins It is approaching 6:00 pm, and we receive a phone call that the strippers we ordered will not be gracing us with their presence. Collingwood, the location, is about a 2 hour drive north of Toronto, simply too far to drive for one night, they say. Even after upping the offer to $600, they refuse. Off to town we go, in search of those who would replace them. Now, Collingwood is a ski resort town of about 12,000. We entered the local strip bar, which consisted of 5 tables, a 10-foot stage, and 3 women whose combined weight approached 1000 pounds. Back in the car. Back to the cottage. After a dinner of hot dogs, burgers, and beer, we piled into the cars and headed to town to the local bar, which could best be described as Bob's Country Bunker from the Blues Brothers. To liven things up a little, Jay is outfitted in a hula skirt and coconut bra. Despite his unsexiness, he quickly earned the attention of every girl in the place, including a small group of 6 local girls that were prepared to follow us back to the chalet. The Bachelor hasn't seen it Back in the living room, there was a particularly drunk girl, short, maybe 5', with a fantastically large set of boobs and trunk that had serious badunk. Before long, her friends were regaling us with the story of her nipple ring, which of course was proudly put on display for all except the bachelor, who was out on the patio burning one down. Outside we go, where this little firecracker has left her one-piece dress on the floor while Jay is closely inspecting the nipple with his mouth. "What is that, stainless steel? Excellent craftsmanship." Festivities continue. The driver, the sober one (and the hottest of them all), had decided she would be the wet blanket. Jonny and I had dragged two of them downstairs, with a "Look, you're drunk, we're drunk, we're out of town, and if you stick around for a bit, you're going to get fucked like you've never been fucked before." And we were off. And so upon entrance to a downstairs bedroom, from the stairs comes their sober driver's stern voice: "You have boyfriends."; Jonny turns around and asks in the most innocent of tones: "Why do you have to be such a cock block?" No response. "Really, why? You're angry we didn't want to fuck you instead?" We still had the short one putting on a show, but has put her dress back on. Sensing the danger, I remind her that the bachelor still hasn't seen it, so she stumbles outside for a repeat performance. It seemed like a good time to take action, so somehow an unopened pack of hot dogs was flung off the balcony at the driver's car. Alas, only the front bumper was hit. "Where is that short bitch?" Ah yes, she's flashing her tit-ring around. I remind her that the bachelor still hadn't seen it. Saturday afternoon/night scorecard: 6 cases of beer, 2 bottles of scotch, 2 bottles of vodka, 3 ounces of weed, 17 Cohibas. Alas, the end of the road comes at around 7 am. It has been a time to remember. It's a shame Jay can't remember any of it. 
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#4
06-15-2004, 04:05 PM
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Re: A trip report
You can continue a flame, i.e. light a candle beforehand and then pass the flame on from candle to candle. You just can't start a new one.
Either way only about half were religious. The rest were like me, where they grew up with it but don't really observe it anymore.
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