Friday, May 27, 2005

My Bachelor Party

Cammy led me through the crowded bar by the hand. At least six different times from Point A to Point B, she stopped and punched out a different guy.

"Keep your hands to yourself you fucking pig!"

She was a tiny thing, but in the span of two minutes, I had witnessed several occasions where Cammy knew how to throw a punch that had meaning. Since I was walking behind her, I thought it might be a good idea to put my free hand in my pocket, to assure that I wouldn't be mistaken for a gratuitous ass-grabber. A black eye awarded by a stripper would not be something I'd want to explain to my Fiance. Harley Flannigan? Badge of Honor. Stripper? Endless jokes from my friends.

At Delilah's Den, the Gentleman's Club we visited an hour before, couch dances were given on actual couches in a black curtained VIP lounge, away from prying eyes. At Show & Tell, however, lap dances were a public event. Cammy led me to a row of what can only be described as stalls. There were about 12 lined in a row, facing out into the crowd of drunk and horny dudes who could watch every gyration because the stalls had no doors. Keep in mind that I went through 3 years of highschool without taking a single dump at Central Bucks West HS because the stalls didn't have doors. I was a real-life "Shitbreak." Now I had to get a lap dance with everyone watching.

"Cammy, I've had eight of these things in the past 45 minutes. If you just want to hang out, sit on my lap and talk, I'd really like that."

Cammy shook her head in disagreement and stripped down to a thong in front of me. She gave me a look as if to say that she was going to dance me in half. You'd think the only thing that would be on my mind at that point was the beautiful female form in front of me, but I still couldn't get over the fact that I was in full view of basically anybody who wanted to have a look.

Just like any good public restroom, Show & Tell's stalls were fitted with those handicap/earthquake hold-on handles on either side of the stall. Cammy grabbed onto them like they were a set of parallel bars and launched into her routine, riding me to the music, giving me every view that a $20 bill from Dave Byrd could buy me.

At one point during the dance, Cammy used the handicap/earthquake hold-on handles to flip herself around and launch her thighs onto my shoulders so that I had an up-close backside view. She somehow managed to free one of the hands that she was supporting herself with to pull her thong to one side -- giving me a good look at what I would describe as, a very lovely vagina.

As I was checking out what will probably be the last non-Fiance/Wife vagina that I will ever have the opportunity to be that close to, I had this lurking feeling that I was being watched. I mean, I knew I was being watched -- I was in a fucking stall for petesake, but something was amiss.

As I gazed into Cammy's beaver, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed familiar faces. I adjusted my line of sight a few degrees above the vaginal treasure chest before me to see...that members of Jade Tree Records and Lifetime were laughing at me.

As it turned out, me and my crew weren't the only Hardcore Bachelor Party in town. Darren Walters was getting married the next weekend. In his crew was Sceamin Dan Yemin, Tim Owens, Hard Carl, and soemone else from Paint It Black. In my crew, it was Alfred Ortiz, Matt Smith, Justin Phillips, Dave Byrd & Kevin McCafferty.

Later, Darren and I ended up talking for a little while. I was telling him what I remembered about the last time I met him, which was 17 years ago on the Ocean City NJ boardwalk with Steve Crudello. He must have thought I was insane. As we chatted, we were watching a spectical on the main stage. A couple male patrons were dragged onto the stage by two of the establishment's lovely employees. Each guy was disrobed above the waist and handcuffed to a pole. Once properly secured to the pole, each dancer took out a huge leather belt and just absolutely BEAT their asses (and I mean "oh, that's gonna leave a mark, she's hitting him so hard I can hear it above the blaring music" BEATING). After that, each dude was handcuffed to a chair where they each got a roughriding lapdance. Each of the guys got slapped in the face frequently throughout the entire dance. It was just...BRUTAL.

Apparently, this pleasant display was a bachelor party specialty. Darren told me he could probably deal with the humiliation part of it, but he wouldn't want anybody smacking him around and hurting him. I told Darren about my brother's edict to all members of my bachelor party, that if my name was called over the loud speaker so that I could be abused by a man-hating lesbian stripper, he would kill them in their drunken slumber.

A few minutes later, Darren was called to the stage.

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Funniest moment of the night: at the behest of Dr. Dan Yemin, I approached Tim Owen (who I had never met before), and asked him if he was ever going to send the Four Walls Falling 7" I ordered back in 1988. Ha!

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