It all began with a short email from Brian, my best man. His message simply stated that he would be picking me up around 2:30pm and that I should wear clothes appropriate for mild activity, to err on the side of comfort over formality. I had previously learned to expect something of a late night as Brian had informed Meaghan of when I’d be expected home. With my sense of adventure in hand I donned my jeans and home-star runner t-shirt, packed a pair of smart pants and a smart shirt into a bag, and headed off with Brian to start my final afternoon as a free man.
Our first stop was just off I5 almost North enough to be in Washington at a shooting range called The Place To Shoot. A shooting range is something I’ve always wanted to try and I was pretty excited to see that this would be more than air pistols. All of my friends were there and before long we were unloading .38 revolvers, 45mm semi-automatic pistols, and a couple of 9mm into zombie targets down-range. The thing that stands out most in my mind from the shooting range is just how unprepared anyone could be for how loud the .38 revolver sounds when discharged. Without failure at least one of our party would jump slightly every time a round was fired from that gun. The 45mm made a lot of noise and had tremendous kick but there was something unique about the boom given off from that revolver that just sticks in my mind. I’d been curious about trying a shooting range for a while and I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. Enough so that I’m hoping to go to another shooting range later this month as I can see it becoming a new hobby. There is something about blowing holes in paper zombie targets that is quite cathartic.
We were left with a little over an hour before the planned start of our next activity and so we decided to reconvene at Ground Kontrol; a classic arcade in downtown Portland. I pwnd at SF2 and SFA3, then got very pwnd at Ghosts n Goblins, reminding myself that games made in 1985 were a lot more brutal to mistakes than modern titles. We all had some fun with Ms. Pacman, Frogger, and several other arcade classics. I even took the opportunity to bust out a few moves on Dance Dance Revolution.
As six o’clock approached and more of the plan was revealed we changed into our smarter outfits before meeting everyone at The Agency, an ultra-sport lounge where we had a private area to watch UFC 100. I had a suspicion that UFC 100 might be on our plans. Brian knows I’m big into mixed martial arts and the card for their 100th event was superb. At the sports bar we had our own sofa, big screen TV, and space to sit back and watch the fights in comfort. The bargirls provided great service while looking damn hot and the night was off with a swing. Brian handed me a viking helmet, Matt handed me a beer and a tequila, and before long we had our predictions written down, drinks in hand and were ready for the opening fight. The fights were great and by the end of the night I was really glad to have the private area as the place got rather busy. As an added bonus the Agency were running a raffle that night. Our waitress dropped off several tickets at our table when we first arrived and in a stroke of luck I ended up winning Steve Miller tickets for the following evening at the McMenamins Edgefield.
My personal memory of the evening has mild data integrity issues from this point forward with margin of error increasing linearly across time due to a segmentation fault. However, the best available data suggests that our group migrated to a nearby scotch bar for a round of more serious and refined libations. Continuing software faults inhibited both the refinement and seriousness involved in the consumption algorithms. Fortunately the relevant I/O channels remained unaffected. Several scotch, tequila, jagermeister, port, and waters were consumed, magic tricks with naked-lady cards were performed, another round of hat-wearing commenced, and general bachelor party behavior continued unabated.
Upon leaving this establishment segmentation faults and commit transaction failures hit a new high, while data integrity hit an all time low. It took a backup and restore the next morning, in the form of discovered images on a portable camera, to establish the approximate chain of events. Photographic evidence of myself and @mstave at Voodoo Doughnut substantiated claims that indeed a visit had been made.
The next reliable frame of data that occured was the memory of waving farewell to Brian from my own doorstep, thanking him for a great evening, and then turning to Meaghan and saying “Hey bbaby…I think I…might have had a…drunk…a little bit tipsy” before clambering upstairs to bed and falling asleep passing out.
The following morning I awoke to the sound of a thousand angry gnomes all beating gongs in my head while spinning my eyes from the inside and filling my ears with cotton wool. I took it easy for most of Sunday laid around the house groaning like a plague victim, satisfied in my knowledge that my friends had helped me to celebrate my bachelorhood in time-honored fashion. I decided to give the Steve Miller tickets to Meaghan, who took her friend Holly to see the concert and had a thoroughly fantastic time. The tickets had come with VIP wrist-band passes that turned out to be rather cool as they entitled the bearer to a private seating area, private set of bathrooms (no portapotties!) and private access to the bar.
A huge shoutout and big thanks to Michael, Jesse, Scott, Mark, Matt, Dan, and of course Brian for organizing such an excellent party and for taking such great photos. I’m lucky to have such great friends and the memories of such an excellent time together.