My bachelor party
We held my bachelor party last night. It was nothing very strenuous. I figured I was too fat to fulfill my longtime dream of playing soccer, so I planned only to have a meal.
As the meal began to wind down, various partiers excused themselves. The others wondered what we’d do next.
“We could go to Barnes & Noble,” I said, “and each of you could buy me a book.”
A few more of the partiers excused themselves.
Martin arrived late. A graduating high-school student had chosen him as his most influential teacher, and Martin had been obliged to go to a ceremony to be honored by him. The student hadn’t attended the ceremony.
“We could go home and watch TV,” I said. “Those are the two things that I enjoy doing. I like to buy books and to watch TV.”
“Shots!” said my friend Brandon.
“No.”
My tone was curt. I didn’t want to drink shots.
“I mean, penalty shots!” said Brandon. “Soccer shots!”
That seemed like a good idea. Kicking penalty shots wouldn’t require too much effort.
Brandon and David and Stephen and Martin and our other friend Scott and I got into our cars and headed over to Bethel to take penalty shots at the goals there. But one field was being sprinkled, and the other had players on it, and the remaining goals were chained away out of reach.
“The Kroc Center!” we said.
“Peace out,” said Martin and Scott.
Brandon and David and Stephen and I went to the field at the Kroc Center. It was full of child lacrosse players, playing in some organized league. I felt some resentment toward the middle classes.
“The Trinity School!” we said.
The field at that school is sometimes accessible. We tried our luck. The gate was open.
We played three penalty shootout tournaments. My objective was to score at least one goal. (At a bachelor party, it’s important for the groom-to-be to score at least one goal.) Once this was achieved, I basically stopped trying and let the ball sail wherever it wished to.
Tomorrow, Karin & I’ll get married. I feel the momentousness. I’m slightly quieter than usual.
As the meal began to wind down, various partiers excused themselves. The others wondered what we’d do next.
“We could go to Barnes & Noble,” I said, “and each of you could buy me a book.”
A few more of the partiers excused themselves.
Martin arrived late. A graduating high-school student had chosen him as his most influential teacher, and Martin had been obliged to go to a ceremony to be honored by him. The student hadn’t attended the ceremony.
“We could go home and watch TV,” I said. “Those are the two things that I enjoy doing. I like to buy books and to watch TV.”
“Shots!” said my friend Brandon.
“No.”
My tone was curt. I didn’t want to drink shots.
“I mean, penalty shots!” said Brandon. “Soccer shots!”
That seemed like a good idea. Kicking penalty shots wouldn’t require too much effort.
Brandon and David and Stephen and Martin and our other friend Scott and I got into our cars and headed over to Bethel to take penalty shots at the goals there. But one field was being sprinkled, and the other had players on it, and the remaining goals were chained away out of reach.
“The Kroc Center!” we said.
“Peace out,” said Martin and Scott.
Brandon and David and Stephen and I went to the field at the Kroc Center. It was full of child lacrosse players, playing in some organized league. I felt some resentment toward the middle classes.
“The Trinity School!” we said.
The field at that school is sometimes accessible. We tried our luck. The gate was open.
We played three penalty shootout tournaments. My objective was to score at least one goal. (At a bachelor party, it’s important for the groom-to-be to score at least one goal.) Once this was achieved, I basically stopped trying and let the ball sail wherever it wished to.
Tomorrow, Karin & I’ll get married. I feel the momentousness. I’m slightly quieter than usual.