I’m going to have to break this up into several posts, as there is just too much to tell. Here is part 1

So we got to the cabins out at Legacy Island Resort in Ottawa Lake, Michigan in the early evening. After a game of junk ball and some grilling, the drinking commenced. Being my bachelor party, that’s about where the real clear memories end. What happened that night, and the description thereof, is going to seem like reading Faulkner.

Bottom line, no seriously, the bottom line is, well, apparently I was drunk and arguing with Asian Henry (another story) and a few others when I said no, seriously the bottom line is about 10 times before I drunkenly got to my point. I’m an exuberant, if not horribly annoying drunk.

So here are a few highlights from what I remember and what I’ve been told:

Asian Henry
Haimoure went the entire first day thinking my cousin Henry was Asian. Henry isn’t Asian, he just wears glasses that make him look like it, apparently. This spawned many jokes throughout the weekend and a lifetime of teasing.

Campfire sing-a-long
I apparently got up on the picnic table and shouted England 5, Germany 1 at the top of my lungs. That, and the rest of the sing-a-longs that night completely shot out my voice.
All the cabins were very close together, so it wasn’t uncommon for people to walk from bonfire to bonfire.

Yeah man, I tell ya what, man. That dang ol’ Internet, man.
We were approached by a redneck we dubbed Boomhauer. We couldn’t understand a damn thing this guy said except when he insisted we shotgun beers. I distinctly remember poking the bottom of PBR cans, doing my best to suck up any beer that wasn’t pouring down the front of my shirt before tossing the half-empty can in the sink.

Apparently Boomhauer — whose real name was Josh — liked them big. He asked everyone Y’all like black porn? All the cabins were outfitted with Dish and he’d rented Black and Stacked earlier. He was hoping to share his love of big girls with us, but really he just creeped everyone out. Finally, Fucking Paul threw his cigarette lighter in the fire, hoping it would explode and scare him away (it did). Boomhauer had many more great quotes the next night, I’ll share them in the next post.

Drink it, goddamnit.
Shots. I made everyone do them. Whiskey, bourbon, vodka, I didn’t care. I was hammered and I knew we shouldn’t have been doing them, yet I continued to pour them. You’ll see, when I tell you about Saturday night, that karma — like a girl I once accidentally dragged behind my car — truly is a bitch.

Vito the skinhead.
We also met a skinhead — or SHARP(?) — from the East side. He knew all our old bands and venues. It was kind of a crazy, small world in that he knew all kinds of the people Nic used to run around with in the hardcore days. I’m fairly certain I sang some Dropkick Murphys with him.

Shouting about the wife
It seems — and I don’t remember one bit of this besides climbing up on top of the picnic table and politely telling everyone in the entire county at the top of my lungs that the first date with my soon-to-be wife was a Suicide Machines show. Better I’m saying something like that than complaining about her or trying to bang another chick or something…I suppose, right?

You make a hell of a Caucasian Jackie
I drank a White Russian or 20. I lost count, and I know I didn’t kill the entire fifth of vodka, so I’d say it couldn’t have actually been more than 10. Still, mix in beers and shots, and I was drunker than the Dude on a league night.

That’s all I remember, and although it was a whirlwind of drunken debauchery, it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as Saturday. Please post your memories or what happened that night and share it with the rest of us.