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.
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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.