Last night we went out and had a bachelor party for Marcus in Michigan's great capital city. Many many adventures were had and, being a dork, I used my camera phone to document them.
The day started at a place called Rum Runners, which is a duelling piano bar, but the pianists never duel. They just play the same song together and cooperate. Call me old fashioned, but I need to see one of them dead when the duel is over. Anyway, the place was seriously lacking in places to sit. As I recall, there were three and a half tables, a hole, several TV trays, and a fat guy, and most of those were taken up by the three bachelorette parties that were going on. They had $1 drafts until 10, though, so that made up for it.
After deciding we've had enough of the noise and didn't want to stand on top of each other's shoulders anymore, we moved on. We moved on down to the next place which was called 621 or 623 or 6.02 * 10^23 or something. Although we were able to all sit out in the patio, we couldn't get a drink if our lives depended on it, and dammit it did! Looks like I didn't take any pictures of that place.
We ambled once again and ended up at Moriarty's, I think. On the way we found a bicycle in the bushes.
Moriary's is an Irish-esque bar that had an Irish-esque band playing. It wasn't a bad place. I shared a few Guinnesses with some friends. The bar had a dark corner where they had a dart board (real, honest to goodness cork dartboard) and some shelves with photo albums in it. I guess I'm not the only one that likes to record and document the drunken adventures of me an my friends. After flipping through a few, I decided that they wouldn't miss one, so I snagged the most ridiculous photo I could find. Enjoy.
After a while we decided to move on down to some other place that I can't quite remember the name of, but it started with an 'S'. The place had shuffleboard tables, and Marcus sat next to one of these and said "What's with the fucking bowling alley?" Marcus was a source of amusement from this point on. He attempted to smoke the business end of his cigarette, he took about half a minute to match up his lighter flame to his cigarette, he stumbled around to the bathroom, and we never had any clear idea what he was talking about. You were great, pal!
We closed the bars down and began our journey into the great "what the hell do we do now?" unknown. It was a long journey with many perils along the way.
We walked down to Ed's car and bid him and a few others farewell, then decided we wanted to eat. We had to walk back to my car, which was conveniently parked in front of the last bar we ended up at, several blocks away from where we were now. On the way we some some guys kicking some other guy's ass, and his buddy comes out and fends them off with a tire iron. That didn't stop a lot of them, so they continued to fist fight. Rich tried to break it up until we grabbed him before somebody plugged him one. A truck's window was smashed, the cops were called, and within minutes the whole place looked like the end of The Blues Brothers, except with fewer car accidents.
We ate at Denny's for God knows why, and I had their Moon Over My Hammys, which is the worse name for a food item ever. The host may have noticed that we just brought the most intoxicated people not in jail to his restaurant, but he seemed cool about it. We ate, we laughed, we gave some shit to the people sitting in the next booth over, it was great. So great in fact that I forgot to take pictures.
We all crashed at Luke's place around 4-4:30 am. I was up at 7:30 because my internal clock doesn't have a snooze button. It was hot as nuts in Luke's house when I awoke, so I decided to sit outside for a while. It felt really good. Then I found out that his door will open from the inside even if it's locked, so I was locked out. I decided to just drive home at that point.
That was the best adventure I've had in a while.