I picked up at a St. Paul hotel for Jim. Jim was a big guy with three big buddies, so I was quickly doing rough estimate math wondering if my crossover SUV would be ok to fit them all. It was a tight squeeze, but it worked. They definitely looked the part of “end of the night wedding guests” with various colors of button down shirts and coordinated ties, slightly sweat stained from the dance floor, and that unique combination of being exhausted but energetic from daylong festivities. Turns out they were college buddies who came up from Vegas to celebrate their other bachelor friend getting hitched.
“So how did a whole group of Minnesota boys end up living in Vegas together?” I asked with genuine curiosity and because they seemed talkative and interesting.
“We did a guys’ weekend down there three years ago where we just gambled, golfed, and got shitfaced for 3 days when Jim came up with the drunken idea that this was so fun that we should just live here. So we went home, packed our shit, quit our jobs, and went for it. Happily ever after.”
“So you’re doing ok for yourselves, then?”
“If you call 6-figure jobs, year round golf, and living in the bachelor capitol of the world ok, then yeah, we’re all doing ok,” they laughed and went on to explain that they met when they were all in school to become CPAs, and apparently there are plenty of opportunities for them in the Vegas area and compared some of the biggest commissions they’ve had over the years. When the conversation took a pause, I snuck in the opportunity to get some advice for an upcoming vacation I had with my Battles.
“Well, 6 girls and I are headed to the strip next week for a bachelorette thing, any advice for us hitting the town during the week?”
“Are most of you single or taken?” asked the lavender shirt with violet tie quickly.
“Stay away from guys like us, do all the girly shit you can stand, and you’ll have a great time, no matter what with no regrets.”