In my closet hidden away is a small photo album that holds the evidence of a few of my girlfriends’ last night as a single woman. In some cases, these celebrations were weeks or months in advance of the wedding but enough risque things happened that warranted their exclusion from the general public photo albums.
I spent my last two weekends celebrating this rite of passage with two different girlfriends - the first in Vegas and the second in Lake Geneva.
The Vegas bachelorette party started tame enough, with mom and the group hanging out on the outside deck of a bar atop one of Vegas’ many casinos. The view was nothing short of amazing, the conversation entertaining and the weather permitting. We left while it was still fun, put mom in a cab and headed to, well, an adult entertainment facility. The picture above is intentionally fuzzy to protect the innocent.
This is how I know I am getting old. I’ve been to this establishment before, years ago when going to Vegas for bachelorette parties was all the rage. Perhaps I had a bit more to drink before I got there, but I remember being - yes - morally opposed but (sorry to say) having a damn good time. This time I was overwhelmed by the mob of men that swarmed our group explaining the various pricing structures. I was thankful for my spot in the middle of the booth, protected by girls on both sides. We purchased the requisite lap and stage dances for the bride and quickly made our exit before the two drink minimum was enforced. I excused myself from the dance club at 3:30 AM, for fear my feet were going to fall off and very thankful I did not crawl in at 5:30 AM like the rest of the crew. Another sign I must be getting older.
The true test of my age was last weekend’s bachelorette party, which I have described to many as “the perfect amount of fun.” After having a birthday brunch with my mother, a coworker and I arrived in Lake Geneva early afternoon. We dropped our stuff off in the room, greeted the group and spent the next few hours hitting all the shops on Main Street. We returned to get ready, joined the rest of the girls for pre-party presents and headed off to dinner. Conveniently the restaurant turned into a dance club, so we sipped drinks while the bouncers threw the tables and chairs out the front door (quite literally). Shortly after, the music starts bumping and the space where we ate was filled with fog. The group headed to the dance floor while I waited for an appropriate song to make an entrance. Bust a Move? Why yes, it is only appropriate. After dancing for a while and enjoying the outside deck, we decided to call it. We were back in the hotel by midnight. Midnight!
The perfect amount of fun - dinner, drinks, dancing and a decent night’s sleep. Yes, I am old.
But rested.