Saddest Stag Night Ever

In My Humble Opinion
1

My hubby was at a stag do yesterday that turned out to be pretty much of a fizzle – the stag party, along with groom-to-be, moseyed off around 11.30 to an ale festival, drank a bit, then went off to a pub to watch the football match. This was naturally meant to be only the warm-up event; I think the plan was then to go for a curry and then dancing or whatever. But the groom-to-be, who started off the day complaining about what a bunch of ‘lightweights’ he was out with, ended up rather abruptly tossing his cookies all over the table in the beer garden around 6 pm – to the surprise of all the others, who were nowhere near that drunk yet. They cleaned him up best they could and got him home and in bed (comatose) by 8 pm. That sort of killed the party mood. I gave hubby and a friend a ride home around 9.00, and the consensus was, gawd, what a weenie. What a flop. What a pathetic stag do.

Any others?

2

I went to a stag for a rowdy friend from high school. He had a ball and chain locked on his ankle. The event was kind of spoiled because a couple of guys, including the groom’s brother, walked him around pouring eight ounce shots down his throat, knocking him out cold before the party even started.

We still managed to party hearty. One guy stripped naked and jumped into the middle of the poker table, spilling all the chips and cards. The players flung him down and screwed a beer bottle into his anus. He then flung open the doors to another meeting room in the complex where we were having the stag and bellowed “has anyone seen my beer?” to a Knights of Columbus or Rotary Club meeting or something. As the suits stared at him in stunned silence he turned and walked back out with the bottle sticking out of his ass.

This is the stuff of legends.

3

With friends like that, it’s a good thing he’s getting married. Then somone will be on his side, at least for a while.

4

Although I obviously never mentioned it to my friend Scott, one of the most boring, awful times I’ve ever had was at his stag night, when I was “designated driver” when a bunch of us went to a strip club. Folks, going to a strip club stone-cold sober is never, ever a good idea.

On the other hand, my sister met her new BF when he and his mates were celebrating a stag night in New Orleans (obviously said BF was not the main beneficiary of the night). I hope the man did not have too good of a time that night. Since I have not been arrested for a gun-related offense in the past ten years, he’s got seven days to get out of town if he did :wink:

5

With friends like that, who needs enemas?

Thank you! I’ll be here all week!

6

They were mostly upset that they missed out on the curry, I think. :slight_smile:

Hey, they cleaned him up, at least. And didn’t screw any bottles into his anus. That’s what I call true-blue buds.

Stompy

7

Went to one which consisted of just a small bunch of guys where we all sat around and got drunk. One guy got too drunk, got belligerent and had to be punched once to settle him down. We made sure he was OK, then tucked him in a spare bedroom to sleep it off. Someone puked on the floor and since I was the only one with an Iron Stomach, I got to clean the mess up. Then we just B/Sed until near dawn and fell asleep wherever we were sitting.

Went to another that was a bit more fun. Two girls were present, one of whom jumped out of a huge ‘wedding gift,’ but, wisely, she went out on the balcony with the other girl and smoked as we watched stag films. Everyone got drunk, made passes at the girls. Then everyone but me, the groom and one girl left. While I cleaned up the major part of the mess, the groom tried real hard to seduce the girl and almost succeeded, but she left and shortly after, so did I.

8

I was invited last minute to a bachelor party of someone I didn’t know. Forgetting my Ms. Manners, I brought a HS friend who definately didn’t know anyone. Didn’t matter to them; it was party time!

One of the two girls hired to strip chickened out, but the other went ahead. (They were both amerateurs.) At the “bar” in the basement of the party house, I found out the girls was someone I had got to church camp with! I mentioned this to the bartender (the same guy that had invited me), and said I didn’t want to kill the party, but that she might chicken out too if she knew I was there. He said wait a sec, and went upstairs.

He came back down and said that she was cool with it. She actually put on quite a show, one of the best I’ve ever seen.

9

It was actually pretty fun.

My wife pretended we were going to dinner with friends the night before we were driving up to her home town for the wedding. She said we were going to a local strip club/restaurant; they have excellent food, and my wife’s pretty open-minded.

Of course, it was a surprise, with about 3 of my co-workers and 4 other friends there to show me a good time.

From there, we went to about 3 other clubs. My friend JM stayed fairly sober, so as to get me home safe. (I, however, got trashed.) We decided to go home after they closed the last bar. :slight_smile:

Once home, he got me in the door, then went home. I proceeded to stumble to bed, knocking down pictures, and yelling, “Lucy, I’m home.” My fiancee was not pleased. To express her displeasement more, she had me take the first shift driving.

(What I didn’t know at the time was that one fo the reasons she broke up with one of her BFs was that he was an alcoholic that always reeked of beer.)

The “Lucy” comment came back to haunt me later. In the movie Fools Rush In, Matthew Perry’s character yells, “Lucy, you have some ‘splainin’ to do!” Because it remined me of my drunken arrival home, I cracked up. My wife glared at me. :eek:

10

I do know one thing not to do concerning stag parties, and that is have them the day before the wedding. The groom is not usually real happy when he shambles down the aisle, hideously hung over. I usually try to persuade party planners to have them the weekend before the wedding or at least two days prior.

It gives the groom time to recover from the festivities.

11

About a month ago, I attended a rather uninteresting stag party.

The groom’s best man was a woman. She didn’t do ANYTHING in terms of organization for the party. The bride-to-be called me up on the Tuesday before the party asking me if I could come and meet them at a bar.

There ended up being 9 people at this party. The groom, his “best man”, myself, my fiancee, another friend couple of ours (total of 3 women), the father of the bride, the groom’s brother, and another friend. That was it. We stayed at the first bar for a couple of hours, then hit a strip club (even the women came - you get preferential treatment at strip clubs if you walk in with women it seems). We all went home at closing time.

The groom got pretty drunk, the “best man”, who was a pretty strange woman to begin with was telling stories to the bride the next day about how my fiancee was only there to keep an eye on me and the other woman who was with us was hitting on the groom all night :rolleyes: … And I was a designated driver… ($7 for a coke at the strip club - WTF?)

My own batchelor party is this Friday night. I pray constantly that is goes off better than the one described…

12

Strainger, this cracked me up! :applauds wildly: You rule!

I’ve only been to one bachelor party. We got a hotel room up in Chicago. For some reason we started out by driving over to Gary, Indiana for gambling. In case you don’t know this, never ever go to Gary, Indiana. For anything. What a hole! We all lost our gambling money pretty quickly. That part of things sucked. The rest of the night was spent at a high-end strip club and in a bar, being rowdy and having a good time, so it all worked out.

13

Disclaimer: I’ve told this story before; but this seems a highly appropriate time to bring it back up again. And I never get tired of telling stories about myself.
Just two months ago, I went to a bachelor party that should have been the suckiest one I’ve ever been to. The groom was a conservative Catholic and the best man a conservative Jew, and the groom insisted that his fiancee attend the ‘bachelor party’ along with him. Needless to say, most standard bachelor party activities were right out.

After convincing the groom that bowling really wouldn’t be a good idea for a bachelor party (I shit you not, that was the groom’s original idea), the best man manages to score tickets to a comedy club. I was invited along as SO to one of the groom’s best friends (who was, of course, also invited).

It was… okay. I mean, yeah, we were going to get dinner and see some comedy acts (the headliner was Greg Valentine from King of Queens), and I’m not particularly interested in strip clubs any more. But still, it just seemed so… so… so antithetical to have a bachelor party that was really no different from a Saturday night out with friends. It’s supposed to be the big bash, the last chance, the “go for broke 'cause soon you’ll have a wife and two kids and no time or affinity to get a beer bottle stuck up your anus again” kinda thing.

But dinner was okay, and the opening act was pretty good, and the people at the party were nice to meet and hang out with (again, they were my SO’s friends, not mine, so it was kind of an unfamiliar crowd), and Greg Valentine was pretty funny, and the groom seemed to be enjoying himself, and then the headliner cut his act short so that, as a surprise, Jerry Seinfeld could come out and test out an hour of new material for an upcoming tour and I got to see one of the masters of stand-up comedy in a tiny little club the way stand-up should be seen.

So it actually kicked ass. Could’ve knocked me over with a feather.

14

Well, the worst one I can think of happened in Las Vegas. How can you have a crappy bachelor party in Vegas, you ask? Well, read on…

Me, Juan (the groom, and my brother’s friend, not mine), Marcos (another of my brother’s friends), and some dude none of us knew went out in Juan’s Explorer; my brother, who was supposed to join us, was MIA. While driving down the Vegas strip (which was choked with traffic), the dude we didn’t know started hitting on the girls in cars next to us. While we were stationary in the stop-and-go traffic, the dude jumped out of our car and got in a car with three girls (this dude was married, mind you). Shortly thereafter, he came back. The girls he’d been hitting on were, erm, of high school age.

So, we got to one of the many strip joints in Vegas, the Palomino Club, which is a touch more upscale than most. Cover price was a steep $20 apiece. There was also a two drink minimum; a cola was $6, and prices went up from there. Lap dances cost $40. Well, the place was a little too rich for us, so we split, but not after Marcos power-drank his Long Island ice teas.

This is where it gets truly fun, because, as it turns out, Marcos is one of those mean drunks who likes to pick fights when he’s toasted, and the LIITs are kickin’ in big-time. We find a club and wait to get in. About 30 minutes later, the line has barely moved, and Marcos is pissing off everyone in line, so we bolt. By this time, Juan and I were pretty sick of Marcos and the other dude, and my brother was still nowhere to be found. Juan and I dumped the Two Drunken Asses at a seedy strip joint, which I wager they were kicked out of pretty quick. Juan, the groom, who’s had to deal with drunk violent Marcos all night, plus has had to battle Las Vegas traffic all night, drops me off at my hotel, where I find my brother and his wife, asleep.

A total waste of an evening, not to mention a waste of money, not to mention that it shoulda happened to my brother instead of me, not to mention that poor Juan got the worst of the deal.