A Wet Bachelorette is Something One Never Forgets (Abridged Version)
Last year I had the oh-high-and-mighty privilege of being my best friend's Maid of Honor, and at 20 years of age, I thought it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Oh, how utterly wrong I was. I figured it'd be easy, nothing to fret about, I'll have everything under control once the Big Day rolls around. Little did I know that the Bachelorette party would turn out to be one of the worst nights of my life. A night of which I will try my best to forget, but at the same time want to remember, an awful outcome on a fateful June day, a horrible experience that I've become nostalgic about.
Picture this: drenched forest floor, flyaway tent tarps, soaked clothes, and all happiness drained from my body. Confused? Let me explain in short: my best friend denied my plans of a nice dinner at a resort in the Alaskan mountains; she then told me she wanted an "outdoor" party full of "Alaskany" things; she then gave me links to different campsites; I then had to go out and buy $200s worth of necessities for this campout; I then reserved a spot early that morning of the bachelorette party, built a fire, shook my fists at the sky above, hoping the thunderstorm warning was just a fluke. Got the picture in your head? Yeah? Alright. Now imagine this: girls arrive; everyone talks; everyone drinks; the bride's younger sister (who was 11 freaking years old) kept trying to steal champagne; I downed two beers within the first half hour; and then--
BOOM!
Thunder. Lightning. Rain. Lots and lots of rain. We found ourselves drenched and all 12 of us were soon huddled in a tent meant for five, squished against each other, nudged in places we didn't want to be nudged in, squeezed inside this raincoat material shelter, trying to make the best of the situation.
It was pushing on midnight when I noticed everyone was rather out of it, their heads bobbing, their mouths slurring, their eyes wandering, their bodies going limp from the rush of Screwdrivers and Peach Schnapps. A mess. Quite humorous, quite a sight to behold, but still a mess.
"I love my dddoooggg," one girl slurred, bobbing her head.
"I have a cat but it died and now I don't and it's sssooo sad I might cry but I won't because it's kind of funny...." another spoke, hiccuping before taking a shot.
"I have a cat," the bride's sister, Tina, spoke, the only one besides me who seemed not to be a drunken disaster. "Her name is Lily."
Now, in retrospect, I should have intervened right then, should have leaped across the tent and body-slammed my best friend to the ground, clutching her mouth shut to keep her from speaking. But, I was too late for any hindsight and the next thing I knew my best friend opened her liquor-soaked lips and began to speak in a high-pitched drawl, "You knooowww your cat isn't a girrrlll."
Shit. No. My throat went dry, my eyes bugged, my jaw opened wide. What was she doing?! I looked at Tina, hoping she didn't hear the wasted bride; but she did and she asked her what she was talking about. And so, my best friend scoffed and said the one secret everyone kept from Tina for the past 9 years, "Lily isn't a girlll...it's a he...or at least it was a he...before it got fixed...now it's just an it...."
Everyone went silent, nothing but the pounding rain and quick gasps of drunken breaths.
"An it?" Tina squeaked, tears springing.
"WHY THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY THAT?!" I screamed, giving the bride a disdainful glare.
All she did was shrug. "What? It's the truuuttthhh." She looked at Tina. "You were going to find out sooner or later you knowww..."
"AND YOU THINK NOW WAS A GOOD TIME TO TELL HER?!"
Tina began to bawl. No. She began to weep. Sobbed tears of sadness and anger, sniffled dripping snot and hiccuped choking coughs, eyes red, cheeks red, ears red, everywhere I looked on her she was red. Man, she was an ugly crier. And then, through her trembling mouth and livid eyes, she bore into the bride and sneered in a whiny, hiccupy, sniffly, all around pathetically induced voice, "YOU'RE THE WORST SISTER EH-EH-EH-EH-EEVVVEEER-ER-ERRR!"
It was by far the funniest thing I have ever seen. The girl was a mess, I had already been loathing her the minute my best friend chose her to be one of the bridesmaids, and now she looked like an angry Smurf with post nasal drip, suffering a bad case of Ugly Crying and Pathetic Wussiness, and I know it's awful to say this, but it made me want to laugh and smile and laugh and laugh until I cried tears of joyful entertainment. I didn't though--I bit my lips and tried to bottle the ridicules that pounded against my ribcage, scratched at my throat to burst out.
Tina bawled like a blubbering buffoon for two hours straight, not stopping until my best friend threw up the Peach Schnapps from her gut and apologized for what she said about Lily. The rest of the girls were passed out in the tent, dreaming lost dreams of mimosas and bachelors; my best friend threw up again as Tina sniffled the last of her hideous sobs; and I, still holding in laughter, let out one little giggle. One tiny chuckle. One minuscule laugh that helped me get through the soaking sleeping bag, the crusty snoring of drunk girls, the drip drops of the leak in the tent, the sleepless evening of the worst night of my life. And all I have to say for that is this: thank God for ugly criers.
{Based on true events}
[Believe me, I wish it wasn't...]