I'm a strapping young lad about to get wedged to my betrothed. My best men, and they are deserving of the title, live in Oklahoma and Georgia. They defend our nation as officers of the United States Army. As good as they are at killing our enemies, they are too far away to plan my selfish debauchery. My backup best man is like a brother to me, but he did not slip out of the same canal as I did, so he must bend to my wishes. I need a bachelor party.
Stop. No strippers/hookers/dancers. Why? I've been here for damn near 30 years and I've seen it. Yup. I know what a hooch looks like. I know it is the driving force of all that goes on. Yup. If I wanted to walk a dog with a bone and not have Jackie about, I'd go to sublimedirectory.com. I've just recently been made aware that I am a best man in my buddy's wedding and I'm trying to make it fun (We're going to ATCO, (Victory meet if it rains), then boozin all over Philly, which is what he wanted). As much as he is stoked, I want something else.
I want, for my bachelor party, in true American selfishness, to drive this Stelvio Pass - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia by my self in an air-cooled 911 (or a Zonda). Keep in mind, this is self financed. I'm not being a kokk about it.
Am I wrong for foregoing my rite of debauchery? TriState (all 5 of you), tell me why. Plz.