mandalay

what happens on the river stays on the river

This past weekend was one for the books. Friday night, I drove to Round Rock for the first of my friend Aleena's bachelorette party activities. We went to Bennigan's and I got to see her take a blow job shot out of our blushing, newly-21-year-old waiter's lap. Afterwards, I was supposed to hang out with Ashley, so I called her and she told me she was hanging out at home drinking scotch and watching surfing movies. What better way to spend a Friday night? So I went over to her new house and joined her, met her crazy white cat Clover, and we gossiped and discussed how it should be easier and more acceptable to do things like we did in high school and early college, like have make out buddies or random hook-ups where no one is emotionally attached and everyone's happy. Maybe it was just the scotch talking...

Saturday the bachelorette activities continued and I went with three other girls to New Braunfels to float the river. Aleena's mom had agreed to be our DD and drive us there and she and a friend had come from Midland for just this purpose. What this ended up meaning, however, was that us four girls had to all fit in the backseat together. It ended up feeling quite a bit like early high school and junior high, especially when a cute boy in a 4 runner drove by and everyone started making eyes and waving... from the backseat, with Aleena's mom driving.

We made it to the river without much incident, had to wait in line for 45 minutes to get our tubes, finally made it in the water and the drinking began. It was all very chill for about the first hour. We all floated with our feet up on the cooler tube in the center. Life was happy and gay. About this time, someone in our group figured out that there was a bachelor party next to us. Aleena had her veil on so it was only a matter of time before the parties collided. And oh did they. Aleena began flashing people. She always made sure that there were no children around when she did it. Eventually, demands were made that the boys reciprocate by showing their goods. I averted my eyes. Then Aleena started trying to get Trisha to flash as well. The boys took up the request and I suddenly found myself surrounded by fifteen or twenty booming male voices chanting "Trisha! Trisha!" (I feel that now is a good time to mention that I was the only single one out of the lot; both Trish and Tiffany are married, and Aleena is engaged to her bf of 6 years) When money entered the picture, $20 I believe it was, Trisha conceded and the twins came out. There was a chorus of cheers and praise and I suddenly found myself with some random guy's feet hooked under my tube, in the middle of what I would imagine a frat boy's wet dream to be like. Minus Dave Matthews that is. Needless to say these weren't my type of boys.

Now Trisha is small, probably 110 pounds. It was about this time that I started to realize how drunk she was. Trish had apparently polished off two liters of Sprite and Seagram's 7. And the boys were giving her beer. She began yelling "Tits for penis! We'll show you tits if you show us penis!" This went on for about the last hour of the float. When we got to the boys' exit point, there were 15 minutes of them trying to convince us to go around one more time or come to San Antonio that night to drink and the girls inviting them to 6th street. I invited no one. We finally escaped and grabbed on to the side of the river a little ways down to finish off the Coors light before we got on the shuttle. Trish continued to yell "Tits for penis" as people were getting out of the water. I still have the image burned in my head of a little girl with her mother in an inner tube burying her face into her mom's chest and the mother covering her ears as Trish was yelling. These antics continued on the shuttle (which was a short yellow school bus) and there was an older couple in the seat in front of us who looked supremely uncomfortable as Trish tried to convince a relatively attractive and non-exhibitionistic guy to show his package. Dear God.

When we got off the bus, Aleena had to support Trisha and walk her to the bathroom where the puking began. Oh happy day. When we finally managed to get her into the car, we decided she had to have something to eat and we drove to Jack in the Box. Trish immediately had to go to the bathroom. They brought her back out and tried to get her to eat some of the burger we'd ordered for her and tears started to roll down her face and she began to hyperventilate. As a wail was building up in her, they rushed her back into the girl's bathroom. She didn't leave the bathroom for an hour and a half, during which time, she was throwing up blood and we started trying to find her insurance info so we could take her to the hospital. Eventually we were able to move her to the outdoor area, where Aleena tried to get her to eat croutons that some biker gave us and said would make her stop throwing up. It seemed to work. We sent her home (after quite a while) in the car with Aleena's mom and Tiffany, the matron of honor. We called Aleena's boyfriend in Round Rock and he drove down to pick the rest of us up. And got lost. For an hour. It was 8:45 before he arrived, and by that time, we had been at Jack in the Box for about 4 hours. We were supposed to go to 6th street that night, but needless to say, it didn't happen. I was crashed out by 11.

Sunday, I woke up at 7:30 full of initiative, went into my living room and pulled out my paint samples to ponder. I chose the color I wanted, drove to Home Depot at 8:45, got my paint, painter's tape, a drop cloth and a roller and drove back home. About the time that I was contemplating sustenance for a day of painting, I got a breakfast taco wake-up call from Ashley. We went to Juan in a Million (my third Sunday in a row) and each got a Don Juan. Then we went back to my place and Ashley helped me tape around the door and window frames and wash the walls. When Ashley left to do some reading, I went to Joanna's for sewing circle and had coffee and donuts and talked music and boys with the girls. We made plans to visit IKEA and for me to take pictures next weekend. At about 4, I returned home, finished taping and cleaning and put on a coat of primer. This took hours. By about 8, I was nearly falling off the ladder with hungover exhaustion so I watched Six Feet Under on the furniture clustered in the center of my living room and went to bed. Such was my weekend. Hoo-ah.

posted by amanda @ 10:28 AM