Eight of us descended upon Scottsdale, Arizona to celebrate Michael, one of my oldest and truest friends, before he tied the knot. We had a lot of fun and we spent most of it acting half our age again, and if there’s ever a time for that, it’s at a bachelor party with guys you’ve known since you WERE half your age.
We all got in from the airport at different times, so our first night was pretty loose by design, but we planned to get Mexican catered at the house (those leftovers provided a life-sustaining force to many hangovers to come). We went to a nearby bar for a bit to check out the local scene some, or possibly, to prove to ourselves that we’re not that old and that 10pm is not that late. The rest of the night was spent trying figure out where everyone was sleeping, since our Airbnb bed math done beforehand, was not adding up in person. Thankfully in the end, no one had to sleep on a pool float, although it really looked like a possibility for a minute.
Our first full day kicked off with a hike that lasted, without much exaggeration, about 10 minutes at best. Jesse to no ones surprise ventured to much higher ground, but the rest of us were certain we’d end up being airlifted if we strayed beyond the photo-op. We put much more time in at a local brewery for lunch, followed by our Airbnb’s pool, where our core conflict was deciding who would get out to bring more drinks from the fridge.
That evening we headed to PopStroke. Think mini golf with full food and bar service at every hole. It was great. I spent most of the time thinking I was doing remarkably well, only to learn I was battling it out for last place. I got a hole-in-one on the last hole though, and as far as I’m concerned, nothing else mattered. Afterwards, Michael picked a spot for dinner that was seemingly located at the ends of the Earth, but was of course worth the journey. Mexican street food meets experimental Michelin star if I had to attempt to define it. Whatever it was exactly, it was very Michael, and very good.
Day three was a double header. A spring training game followed right after by a music festival. Never been much of a sports person but it’s hard not to have fun when the Sun is shining and you’re sharing a beer with your buds, enjoying the best worst foods for you. The music festival was more of that same thing, minus the sports. I was looking forward to hearing Blink-182 but Big Boi stole the show, I didn’t realize he’d just be performing Outkast songs for the most part. We sang, we laughed, we danced, George might have cried. We were also all sporting matching Michael t-shirts all day, which created a lot of fun moments. Drew discovered for us that when someone asks who’s on our shirts, and you reply with zero hesitation, “Michael Woodward,” that 100% of people react as if they’re embarrassed for not knowing that. Would love to see some data on Google search queries for Michael Woodward that day.
With 3 nights behind us, too many calories collected, and not enough water consumed or sunscreen applied, it was time to go home. It was a quick one, but as it usually goes with this crowd, we made it count. Thankful for these memories, and even more thankful to have collected a near lifetime full of them with this bachelor and many of these dudes.
Rosa Parks by Outkast
Summer was absolutely nuts, entirely too much, and unquestionably, a lot of fun.
A week in NYC with family and friends, celebrating 40th birthdays. A bachelor party in Nashville where we probably did more damage to our bodies in 48 hours than some do in 48 years. Not something to be particularly proud of, but if there’s ever a time for it, we found it. A wedding in Philadelphia where I danced to the point of being genuinely afraid to see what the photographer captured of it. Anticipating something that looks close to a full-body exorcism. Then there was a long weekend in Seattle of chasing kids and taking in views of the Puget Sound. There were dinners, concerts, sports, dog sits, baby showers. You name it. Then of course there’s that pesky career that I keep up with in between it all to maintain a living. Also not pictured here, was an entire week long Icelandic adventure.
By the end, it was all enough to have me wishing to never see anyone, or do anything, ever again. Yet simultaneously, thankful to not only be alive, but to be living.
Summer’s right around the corner, which means I’ve just barely got around to sorting through photos from winter. Once upon a time I couldn’t imagine neglecting this place as much as I have. Not sure how much that really says though. Lot that goes on that I couldn’t have imagined.
In any case, time brought some sights along with its endless march through winter. A Santa bar crawl. A very good boy who let us adopt him for a few weeks. Fireworks on The Queen Mary. Apocalyptic skylines from the wildfires. Snowball fights with the kiddos in Tahoe. Possibly setting a Guinness World Record for most rides ridden in a single day at Disney. This was Winter.
Knowitall by Phantom Planet
Showering the old friends but new parents. Weekend getaways in Palm Springs. Mick Jagger inspiring me to work on my cardio. The men being boys in Denver. Vampire Weekend at Red Rocks. Time with the kiddos by day in Seattle, and head banging to Metallica by night. Hot chicken and endless drinks in name of love in Nashville. Dancing with Future Islands downtown. This was summer.
King of Sweden by Future Islands.
Pumkin cannons. Dace floor destruction with Maya and Arthur. Kiss at The Bowl. FaceTimes with the newest Smith. Izakayas with out of towners. Watching a dog we considered not giving back. Showing LA to New York. Disney days. Donuts with Della. Introductory handshakes with Emmett. Green beers in Long Beach. This was fall and winter, or at least the parts I remembered to take a picture of. Really need to get better at that.
Halah by Mazzy Star.
Family in Florida. Friends in LA. Lazy rivers in Palm Springs. A train ride along the Pacific. A hurricane warning in Los Angeles. Endless bands in Chicago. This was summer.
Wooly Mammoth by Local Natives
8 Planes. Countless bands. Easter in Palm Springs. Racing in Long Beach. Playgrounds in Seattle. Sunburn in Minneapolis. Toasts in West Hollywood. Nostalgia in Pasadena. A flipped kayak in Nashville. Near internet infamy in Boston. Too many drinks in Bel Air. Watching the kids get taller and friends go grayer. This was Spring and I’m tired.
We’ve Been Had by The Walkmen
Rain and Snow. Hikes and Sunsets. Friends and brothers. Sons and Dads. The Bulls in Chicago and The Boss in St. Paul. Stiff drinks and long division. This was Winter.
“Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen
Our self-professed full blown Formula 1 maniac of a friend, Duncan, had an idea to get the gang together for a Formula 1 race happening in Austin, Texas. He’s as old now as his dad was when he died, so he wanted to celebrate life, and we wanted to help him do that. Wasn’t long then till our friend Drew took the reins and made this seed of an idea into a full itinerary. The next thing I knew, I was dropping my bag in a hotel room at a city I’d never been before and heading to the rooftop bar to hug some pals who just flew in from about every corner of the country. Some of which I hadn’t seen in a long while. We were only in Austin 4 nights, and this was a few months ago now, but I’m still hesitant to say I’m fully recovered from it. To put it simply, we made it count.
Our first full day was as full it gets. This was the qualifying race day, and it started a little later than the actual race on the following day would. What this meant was, we had some time to fulfill a dream that many of us have harbored our whole lives. Having Texas Barbecue in Texas. We settled on Terry Black’s BBQ by recommendation of Drew who ironically doesn’t eat meat, but luckily happens to be an avid reader of the internet. It was a home run.
When it was time to head over to the track, we had a “party bus” take us there. A better description would’ve been “decommissioned public transit bus, with a few string lights.” It was perfect. Couldn’t ask for much more sipping a drink and watching the view through our windows grow increasingly more wide and rural with every passing mile. When we arrived at the grounds and stepped off our bus, we were still at least a ten minute walk to the gates. But the thing was, you could already hear the surreal harmony of engines in the distance. And it truly was surreal. Like nothing I’d ever heard. I turned wide eyed to Duncan to find him silently nodding with a smile. The feeling you get hearing those cars before you see them, growing louder with each step towards your destination, made me understand why people are into this. It’s powerful and it’s exciting.
Not only have I never been to a Formula 1 race, but I’d never been to any race at all. The track was enormous, with even more space surrounding it. This meant a lot of walking. Even with all that space we were still somehow just about bumping into people the whole time. Our friend Tyler put it well when he looked over at me and said, “This is very… covidy.” Apparently 400,00 people were in attendance that weekend. By the grace of God, we had seats with backs on them when we needed to seek refuge.
Although it was just the qualifying day, the powers at be upped the ante a bit and set Billy Joel to headline the night. I’m not a die-hard Billy Joel fan, but I know the hits and know how to have a good time at a show. His iconic Piano Man however, stands in a league of its own for me. I keep it in the company of some of my very favorite songs ever recorded. I’ve sung it at karaoke more time than I can remember, and hearing it live was really something. But what happened next could only be described as divine intervention, or just surgical precision planning. Just as he sang “It’s Nine o’clock on a Saturday,” I looked at my watch, and it was Nine o’clock and it was on a Saturday and then I lost my goddamn mind. The best example I can think of that captures the full range of emotions I experienced as this realization hit, comes from this masterclass of acting. It was a bucket list item I didn’t know I had.
Piano Man by Billy Joel
Our ride back from the track was what could only be described as a post apocalyptic party school-bus. The driver at one point asked if one of us could literally pull on some cables by his feet for him because somewhere along the highway the gas pedal stopped working. Hell of a ride, but we still managed to stop off at a barcade for some games and a few more drinks, eventually getting back to our hotel, all in one piece.
The next day, was the actual race. The stakes were higher, the crowds were denser and people were FIRED UP. Duncan guided us through the in’s and outs of the drama unfolding in realtime, while I asked him in what way was Harry Potter related to Formula 1, since the word “Petronas” is seen everywhere. As uninvested as I was in the sport, I still found myself on my feet and cheering like a maniac for the last few laps. It shaped up to be a pretty dramatic battle between the top two contenders. I knew it’d be a fun experience, but I was surprised at just how fun it all really was. Also didn’t hurt that Duncan’s team won, and really that’s all that mattered to the rest of us.
Race day started and ended a lot earlier than the previous day, so by the time everything wrapped up at the track we still had plenty of daylight to kill. Most of us spent it floating in our hotel’s rooftop pool, with more drinks than any of us probably needed. It wasn’t long then till we headed off to celebrate Drew’s birthday at dinner followed up by a fancy cocktail bar, flaming drinks and all.
On our last full day, I found a little time to explore the city on foot, making the capitol building my loose destination. About a mile or so in, I learned that “Texas Heat” is not just a marketing buzzword for hot sauces. Jeans were a poor choice that day. Luckily, we booked out an air conditioned theater to see Dune, as guys do on a guys trip. We had a food and alcohol limit to hit during the screening which basically equated to everyone eating and drinking way too much, and almost brawling discussing whether or not Dune was or was not a good movie. It was a great time.
For our last night, we went to an Idles show. Most of us didn’t know the band very well, but our friend Drew did, and it only ever takes one of us to care about something for the rest of us to get behind it too. Of course it was a fun time, and the braver among us even pushed their way to the front where things get rough. It’s a miracle we ever saw them again.
Our last morning was spent packing up and saying our goodbyes in the lobby. It’d be fair to say we were all pretty much just fantasizing about our couches and takeout by this point. It was a fun, exhausting, memory filled trip that could’ve only happened when you get this group together. Like I said, we made it count. Most importantly of all though, is that our self-professed, full blown Formula 1 maniac of a friend, Duncan, had the absolute time of his life, celebrating life.
Bonus: Michael surprised us all with a fun video he cut together on his flight back home, what a guy huh?
Finally got around to editing some footage from Fourth of July weekend two years ago. My turnaround time for these has really fallen off a cliff, but better late than never. We hiked, barbecued, boated, bowled and found ourselves entertaining a bar full of strangers at karaoke. With twenty of us on a boat and plenty of drinks in hand, it’s a miracle nobody fell overboard. Happy Fourth everyone.
Finally got around to putting an edit together of our Nashville trip from OVER A YEAR AGO. What a time it was to be able to just hop on a plane to meet your friends in a new city for the fun of it. Our friend Jon turned 30, and a group of us descended upon Nashville to celebrate it. It was a quick two-night trip, but we did a lot with a little.
We pushed our way down Broadway, watching the bands play at one honky tonk after the other. We sang at the top of our lungs in a year-round Christmas themed karaoke bar, packed in shoulder to shoulder. Some of us were even brave enough to do it with a microphone. We learned about craft cocktails, and then drank some. We hit the dance floor at a bar disguised as an unassuming single family home. And in a period of two days we ate more Nashville hot chicken than any respectable physician could recommend. It was a lot with a little, but most important of all, we raised our glasses and wished our friend a happy thirty.
A month ago George and I had our show. I’d been holding off sharing the experience until I had the time to cut together an edit from the footage Alexis shot. To just get right to it, the night went as good as it possibly could’ve.
Family, friends, friends of friends, and strangers poured in all night. Some traveled a few blocks to be there, some a few thousand miles. The rest coming from everywhere in between. Everywhere you looked there was laughing, drinking, donuts, and of course the art. It was one of the most fun and memorable nights of my life. George would tell you the same. Couldn’t have asked for a thing more, but even more is what we got.
We were honestly shocked at the amount of enthusiasm we received for everything we’d done. The look on George’s face up top really says it all. He showed 9 pieces and sold 7. I showed 36 and sold 31. We raised several thousand dollars for a charity we decided on together, called P.S. Arts. They’re a nonprofit that works to keep art programs alive and thriving in underserved public schools and communities across California. Growing up, art was obviously always my favorite subject. Can’t imagine having gone through all those years without it. Who knows where or who I’d be, if that fire was never stoked. Guess I’m just trying to say it was an easy cause to stand behind.
In the end, It was all a lot of work, but was all entirely worth it. Sure, the months and weeks leading up had their stresses and snags along the way. Some literally up until the hour before the doors opened. The thing is, you can make short work of just about anything with the kind of friends we’ve got. From day one, they just wanted to know how to help. And each in their own way, they did exactly that. Truly grateful to call these people friends.
Thank you to everyone who shared their support, regardless if you made it out or not. Really, truly, means the world to us.
Happy 40 George, we did it.
My good friend George Danelli and I have talked about having a joint art show together for almost a decade. It’s finally happening at Kingswell in Los Feliz, Saturday May 4th, from 8p – 11p. So come see some art, have some free drinks, dance, and wish George a happy 40th birthday. All artists sales will be donated to charity. More info to come, but save the date. Link to the Facebook event page here
First comes love, then comes marriage they say, but there’s usually a bachelor party somewhere in between there. From left to right, Drew, Ryan, Giov, Michael, Jesse, Duncan, Jon Kim, Giancarlo, me, Mike, Levi, Ricky (George and Charlie not pictured here). We were a pretty big group. Fourteen strong, coming from all over the country. We chose to party in Denver, Colorado. Most of us hadn’t been before, and It was pretty close to meeting in the middle geographically. It felt right.
We did a lot over 4 days and 3 nights. Usually it’s your best man who puts these things together. My best man was my brother, but planning really isn’t in his wheelhouse. My friend Drew offered to take up reins and get it all figured. He’s a good guy to know to say the least.
We had a Haunted Tiki Party. If you host it, they will come.
One day my friend Drew told me he wanted to move into a new place with his girlfriend Kelsie. They really hadn’t been dating very long at all, and the new place was a pricey two year lease. There was never a thing not to like about Kelsie, but I still owed it to one of my best friends to warn him he might be rushing into something here. He agreed he was rushing in, but rushing into the right thing, so why wait. I remember thinking it to be pretty bold.
Turns out, they just signed a lifetime lease, and tied the knot. They married near Palm Springs on April Fools, because well, it’s Drew and Kelsie we’re talking about here. It was a beautiful Saturday.
Drew E. Cohen, the leader of the pack, had a bachelor party and it was one for the books. Twelve of us shared a cabin in North Lake Tahoe. There was poker, a hot tub, alcohol, billiards, a personal chef, monster trucks, karaoke, and eight feet of snow. As alcohol often does, it led to some heart felt speeches and even some tears. Though, none of mine of course.
Jesse’s first time in the Pacific Ocean.
I asked the girl I’ve been crazy about (and driven crazy by) since the day I met her, to marry me. How we got from there to here is a long story. One that I’ll save for another time. But today, I want to tell you about the best day of my life.
Celebrated my 30th in Palm Springs, poolside with some cold drinks and the best people. They came a long ways and spent a good bit of money and time to make sure I knew damn well that 30 ain’t so bad.
Been friends with this one for 11 years now. Glad to have been around to see him make his 30th wish.
Few weeks back at Jenn and Duncan’s wedding. Was an honor to be their guest, and a night to remember. I’d like more images like this to live here. They’re more important than the things I make.
Another day, another bachelor party. This time Jon was up. We went into it fresh off of Michael’s bachelor party in Arizona hardly two weeks prior, but that didn’t stunt anyone’s energy or enthusiasm, which is frankly unbelievable at our general ages.
There were 11 of us total, and Jon decided on LA as the destination. The city’s been the backdrop to a lot of our friendship origin stories, and a lot of this gang has since moved on to new places, including the bachelor. So naturally, the weekend ended up being a reliving of a shared chapter in our lives that’s many years gone now. And let me tell you, it was a hell of a chapter.
We kicked things off at a Lakers game. It was my first time seeing them, even if George swears that’s not true. We’re both willing to stake our lives on being right, so let’s hope we never figure out who’s wrong. Mainly I remember thinking, LeBron doesn’t seem all that tall, but then you realize everyone next to him is in the neighborhood of seven feet also.
After the game, we figured we should turn in early and save some energy for the nights ahead. But in the spirit of reliving that debaucherous chapter of years gone by, we headed to not one, but two bars before we finally grabbed some street tacos and called it a night.
The next day we lounged around some at our Airbnb, which was an absolutely stunning house in Los Feliz, which I didn’t take a single picture of. I attribute this to spending most of my time there either asleep or in the heated plunge pool. I can’t say what that thing Darth Vader spends his time floating in to heal is exactly, but it looks warm, and I totally get it. There’s something about sweating it out in hot water that always brings me back to life.
After a light hike and some pool time, we headed out mid-afternoon to hit our old stomping grounds, and we hit ’em hard. 4100 is a bar that our gang has been to maybe more than any other in our lives. Honestly, I don’t really remember why we came here as much as we did. Best guess, we could walk there, and well, it was open. In any case, none of us had been in many, many years. We had fun reminiscing about the good times, and some of the more precarious ones too. Like when I kind of, accidentally, sort of, made the perfectly honest mistake of starting a very small fire inside the bar… No one got hurt. It seemed worse than it was because they keep it so damn dark in there.
Afterwards we headed to another staple of our 20s. Korean BBQ. This was something we used to do together regularly, and of all the things, I think it’s the one I miss the most. It’s still readily available to me. There are probably no fewer than 20 KBBQ spots within three miles of me as I write this. It’s really not the same though if you’re not taking over the biggest table in the place with your best buds, feasting like kings and drinking like maniacs. That soju really creeps up on you. Also, there’s the fact that Jon speaks fluent Korean, and watching him command a small army of servers in Korean has always been a sight to behold. Having no knowledge of what he’s ordering, but knowing he’s totally got it.
No night of revisiting our old stomping grounds could ever be complete without karaoke. Whether it be in someone’s house, in a bowling alley, or in a private room in K-town, we’ve ended more nights together this way than I could ever dare to keep track of. There’s just something about singing “Gangsta’s Paradise” for the 500th time that never seems to get old. Perhaps that’s thanks to the inebriation.
We’d arrived at our last full day, and like we always do, we made it count. After some pool recovery in the morning, we hopped on a party bus and headed down to Topgolf. I’d never been to one, and I can’t even tell you which century we were in the last time I was at a driving range. What I can confirm is that I did remarkably bad. Somehow, I was able to regularly send the ball flying behind me, in the opposite direction I swung. It certainly brings an unprecedented level of spectator engagement when you’re having to dodge rogue golf balls. Jon loves to golf, so I got my enjoyment from just watching someone know what it was they were doing.
I generally don’t know much about sports, and practically nothing about soccer, which is perfect since after Topgolf we headed to a soccer game. Or is it a soccer match? Can’t tell ya who played, who won, who lost, the name of the stadium, you name it. What I do know is that I had fun. I’ll always maintain that so long as you’re in good company with good drinks, everything else is just a detail.
It was getting late, and our last night was drawing to a close by this point. The party bus was meant to take us back to our Airbnb, but we got the brilliant idea to have the driver instead drop us off downtown at La Cita for one last hurrah. La Cita is another bar that we all have a long history with. It gets packed and rowdy in there, and this night was no different. We danced, we drank, I sang in Spanish with no clue as to the translations, and we had a lot of people fired up to see us all wearing the same shirt with this handsome Korean guy plastered on it. We lost some water weight on that dance floor, and I still might have a hairline fracture in my toe all these months later. We gave it hell.
The next day, one by one, we all went our separate ways. Hungover, tired, mildly concerned to look at our bank statements. We made it count. Particularly because I think many of us had a pretty strong sense that this was it. Our last bachelor party together. Bitter because it means we’re old and getting older. Sweet because it marks a new chapter. One that holds the chance of providing more than the previous one ever could. Thanks for the memories dudes. Upwards and onwards.