The Thomas Lee Bachelor Party
A night he will only hope to remember
I’ve never been a Best Man. This realization came to me late one night at my dinner table. It was around midnight, long after a party I’d thrown was over and Thomas Lee and I we talking. Or, more to the point, Thomas was asking;
“Wayan, will you be my best man?”
This was an odd question for me. Both because I’d not been a best man before, but also because I’ve not been to that many weddings. Yes, I’ve been to mine, both of them. But I didn’t pay much attention to what Sean, my best man for both was doing.
Outside of those two moments of sheer
Yet, here is Thomas Lee asking me to lead his. What do you say to a friend you’ve known since Beijing? Who you helped think of dates for the girl he was dating then, and now is his fiancÃ©? Only one word: “Yes”
The first task, the bachelor party. I’ve experienced two, both my own. The first one was wild – I was restrained in a leather harness, let loose on London with the Stud Cuz and way too much booze. I don’t think I sobered up till the wedding reception the next afternoon. The second one? I was home, sober, by 9 pm.
Just to set the tone for Thomas, and make sure he would be set loose on DC, I sent his friends this bachelor party organizing email:
And so when the appointed Saturday night arrived, we were all ready with choice props and plenty of beer money. This would be a night Thomas would only hope to remember.
We started out with warm-up drinks at Fox and Hounds, telling tales of single and married life. A few of his friends were like I, ball and chained to beauties that gave us great passion and frustration. All of us had the glory days memories of moments long gone.
As Thomas got tipsy, we started to reveal our gifts, and start the challenges. To the dog leash and the blindfold, we added pantyhose and my favorite, the Force Cup.
Bought in an unassuming Northern Virginia CVS, the Force Cup took on a whole other meaning when part of a bachelor party. And that other meaning was clear to all those innocent women who suffered through our night of drunken debauchery.
Innocent women like the dancers at Archibald’s Gentlemen’s Club. There, with wings on the table, drinks in hand, hot, nubile ladies shook their moneymakers at Thomas. At every other guy there too, until we had Thomas loaded up with a wad of $1’s and too much booze.
For the sake of his enduring reputation, let’s just say a good night was had by all there. And the last I saw of Thomas, he still held tight to the the Force Cup.