It’s the anniversary of my bachelorette party! Six years ago this weekend, twelve of my girlfriends sent me off into wedded bliss with a bachelorette weekend to remember in Las Vegas.
Somehow, from the moment we landed at McCarren International, everything went our way. The 13 of us were treated like VIPs and ushered to the front of every line. We were given roped-off areas in clubs to sip bottles of bubbly that were on the house and even bumped into billionaire Mark Cuban poolside who bought all our cocktails and entertained us with his normalcy. We were shuttled around in a gas guzzling stretch yellow Hummer and enjoyed the people watching at the pool (or human soup as we called it). It was ridiculousness at its best, and I don’t pretend to have had such a wild weekend ever since.
The highlight of the trip, however, was our trip to Olympic Gardens (incidentally, the one and only strip club I’ve ever visited). Despite the male dancers being extremely attractive and well groomed (and probably 100% gay), I don’t think I have ever laughed as hard in my entire life. Whereas men probably go to strip clubs for totally different reason, women go to giggle hysterically at a guy in a banana hammock pretend he’s a rogue police officer with feathered handcuffs. To this day, the pictures we took that weekend make me laugh until I have tears in my eyes and I think I catch a faint whiff of musk scented body oil in the air and my throat burns with the memory of flaming body shots.
So in addition to the ridiculousness the strippers added to the trip, I am so grateful for my girlfriends for planning and attending such a debaucherous weekend!