I love weddings. I love seeing two people in love. But before you can get married, you have to have a bachelorette / bachelor party. This past weekend were Joey and Hannah's respective parties in Atlantic City. At first our plan was only to attend Joey's party and then sleep on the floor in their suite. That plan, thankfully, expanded into spending the whole weekend there, getting our own room and also partying it up with the girls at Hannah's party. It was a crazy, Jersey Shore-esque weekend, but it was a blast.
The weekend started off right away. We got to our room around 8:30 on Friday and were eating dinner with all the ladies by 10:00. I love Hannah and Suzanna so I knew it'd be fun. The other girls were nice. I feel like gays and girls go together like honey and flavored tea. We had a nice dinner, though there was a little dispute about portion size. Just a tip - ladies, just because we're gay doesn't mean we don't eat. Then it was on to Mur Mur for dancing. It was just like a scene from Seaside Heights - lights, fog, dancing, fist pumping. Everyone was having a good time.
The next morning we met up for breakfast before the girls left. Then it was off to gamble and rest before the testosterone injected bachelor party. We left the Borgata for the evening for the bachelor party at Harrah’s. We got the suite and it was exactly what I expected - beer pong, porn, sports. I think we both instantly felt out of place, but I put on a smile. We left the room to get some food and wander around the casino. We got in the elevator and then all the guys, along with older men already in the elevator, started yelling the Jets chant. It was actually scary - I almost expected them to start pounding on the walls like gorillas.
We had a decent time watching the game, gambling, etc. We headed back to the room around 11:30 to wait for the stripper. I was excited and anxious. I thought it'd be fun and one of the only times I'd be in the situation. I'd humor her ("good for you honey"). Then I thought about how degrading it must be to have a group of guys making lewd comments and you for money. It's like two steps away from being a hooker. It didn't really matter because she never showed up. I was actually a little disappointed and I felt bad for Joey. That's the big finale and then it never came. We left to go back to the Borgata after "Melanie's" non-arrival. We finished off the night with some hot, Starbucks tea, a slice of lemon cake and an episode of Sex and the City on E! Now, that's the best way to end a bachelor party.
We got up and packed on Sunday morning, while salivating for the highlight of our Atlantic City getaway - the breakfast buffet. Being a body obsessed gay man living in Manhattan, I don't overindulge. I don't really do sugar, saturated fat or friend foods. But a trip to Atlantic City is like a little escape with privileges like eating like average Americans. I got eggs benedict, apple crepes, bananas foster with whipped cream. I ate until I was stuffed and it felt so good.
But alas, all good things must come to an end. We left and made our back to the city. It doesn't take much to get back into the New York City state of mind. It takes about 20 blocks of yelling at other cars, honking, and laughing while watching pedestrians try to decide if they can make it across the street without getting hit. It was an amazing weekend with my boo. I'm so grateful to have been included in all the pre-wedding festivities. It'll definitely be something that I remember for a long time.
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