this weekend passed not without some drama. i was whisked away in the night, steadfast and asleep, through darkness cascading hillsides, man-made untouchable lakes, and one dutch haven. it was bachelor party weekend for my friend jim and there were a few of us who mustered the strength to drive a whopping three hours to santa ynez. arriving shortly before seven a.m., matt, jim and myself holed up on the trampoline while awaiting jim's brother's awakening. i was transported to a bed while the three aforementioned dudes reconvened to a cozy cafe known simply as the stella umbrella where stellas were swallowed and coffee was consumed. i awoke somewhere between three and four times in the night, moving from car to trampoline to bed until finally rising to take on the day around eleven. luke, jim's brother was already working on the keg, drinking it and straightening out the kinks. the train started really rolling when the discussion of whether or not the tradition of a bachelor party should remain intact, untarnished by the female voice, and entail a striptease wonder. personally, i'm not a fan of a room full of guys, raging boners, sweat and degradation. as homo-erotic as that sounds, our bachelor party would not be outdone. you don't need whores to have a gay old time. you need guys, spirits, and a little shirtless tom foolery: wrestling, tossing of grown men by grown men into pools, punching, slapping.
Nightfall approached and the hunger set in. The men were growing ever more beastly and the time was upon us to fulfill said obligation to attack our bellies with the flesh of some land monster. i said to myself: "it would have to be burgers, i'd have it no other way; so, we loaded a truck with ingredients and bar-b-queued away." suddenly i was in an olde tyme fairy tale, i guess: "unfortunately, drugs reared their ugly face and to my chagrin were put in my face. it was a golden opportunity and i took jim's advice, i was strong and powerful and i said no, twice."
it was a long day but i managed to pace myself well. drew made the trip up by himself. by the time he arrived, everyone else had done themselves in for the most part so, he was forced into the age-old drinking game known as catch-up. so he did and we ventured out of the house finally. we were ready to take on the wild wild western storefront of the Maverick Saloon. walking through the entrance, all eyes barreling down on us, into us, feeling our hearts and our souls connecting, it was clear we belonged. This bar and our group were a match made in heaven. these people, these country folk, lacquered with after shave that makes the lip curl, and the words drawl; dressed in fabric carrying the colors of painted desserts, sherbets and sorbets, that bury themselves in the high waisted jeans; latched together with leather, boots, and buckles of gods and cowboys, which in some towns means the same thing; they were our soul mates that fateful evening that saw a man in his eighties creep up and attempt to freak college co-eds from behind to the soft sounds of fergalicious.
jim resigned to his sleep deprivation and slipped off into a dark world of consciousness, one usually inhabited by yours truly. it was the first time my eyes laid on jim's in that way, staring off in the distance, warrior style, as someone who's seen some shit, was in The Shit. one young whippersnapper made the unfortunate mistake of looking at jim just one second too long. a finger was directed at him stemming from a hand that was a part of an arm on a body beneath a head of curls that surrounded a mouth forcing out words spelling don't look at me! it was time to go anyhow. we enjoyed out stay, arm wrestling on the bar, getting 86'd and so forth. the cowboys waved as we rode off into the night. they shed a single tear that night and took vows to never forget.
on our walk home, we pissed on mail boxes, screamed at the top of our lungs, and attracted all the attention we could get just shy of any bright young officer's face. garret, a friend of jim's brother, who was already accompanied by a passenger, stopped next to the five of us and warned that if we continued on our walk we would undoubtedly be incarcerated by the local officials. he said that he knew because it happened to him that he was picked up simply for walking in broad daylight which sounded believable to me so, the five of us crammed into the back three seats, matt sprawled across our laps. no one questioned this seating arrangement nor it's illegality, nor the intoxication level of nice-guy driver garret. soon as we were back on the ranch, jim dove into a mattress made of virgins' hands, lulling instantaneously into a realm of soft lighting and obscure sexual references. we tucked him in and sent him down his surreal river.
a party ensued but being on new york time i kept close watch on my watch and the couch. the minute i noticed the couch open its arms to me, i crawled in between its stains and loving limbs, and put on a somnambulist mask.
sunday morning was less gang busters, more sunday. it was a slow roll out of bed and a calm ride to the longhorn cafe, the greasy spoon proud of its lack of vegetables, where alrick, the viking drunkard, touched the precious belly of our impregnated watiress. we were sent spiraling into his awkward dementia as he demanded avocados where there were none. our waitress quickly threw down the kibosh on his declarations, corralling him back into his cage, and our meal went well the rest of the time we were there. we did a little yard work before making our way down the path to a few of the vineyards nearby. we tasted some good wines, ending up in the reserve and library area of sunstone, and the bar at kalyra. it was a good buzz on a golden day. i picked up a bottle of wine and returned to the the sun batting sweet eyelash kisses at us, seducing us as we lay in the plum droppings that littered the long grass in the front yard.
the night fizzled as went went for night swims and dips in the jacuzzi. i ended up falling asleep making social commentaries about howard the duck with drew. around three am my phone rang and i spent the next three hours in a dream.
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