My typical weekend in the Big D usually commences with a relaxing morning, consisting of a healthy, high-fiber breakfast, followed by a few chapters of a good book, and a long workout. I then return home, eat lunch, continue reading, possibly watch a movie or watch Ross watch a movie/game, and when I want to get crayzay, I meet friends for dinner or have a game night. In bed by 11pm, rinse and repeat! The only thing I need to complete this picture is a few cats and a bathrobe…
This weekend…oh, this weekend…was so different. This weekend marked my ‘colleague’/best bud, Jill’s bacherlorette party! Her sister and maid of honor, Julia, went no holds barred for this trip. What I thought was going to be a relaxing time drinking Texas Teas on the lake morphed into the embodiment of the “You Only Live Once” (YOLO) mantra of Jill’s younger sister, Jane, fresh off the college Spring Break boat. Here’s what happened when fifteen of Jill’s friends gathered at a lake-house in Austin, to send Jill off into the married world:
The Beyonce Experience. It’s possible the t.v. did not have cable. It’s possible no one knew how to plug their phone into the stereo system. It’s more likely CeCe and Julia are just really obsessed with the Beyonce Live in Concert Experience. As much as I tried to insert my house music into the mix, Beyonce won every time and was the official music of Jill’s bacherlorette extravangaza!
The girls put together a spaghetti dinner, which breeds an interesting conversation between Jill and Hope:
Hope attempts to scoop out the spaghetti with a spoon. Jill notices this:
Jill: “Just scoop it out with your hand! Much more effective!”
Hope: “Okay, let me just wash my hands.”
Jill turns toward me, to explain this hand-washing phenomenon: “Hope is a nurse…”
Hope: “Jill! Everyone washes their hands!”
“I’m on a boat, no joke!!” Fifteen of us get on a boat with a max capacity of twelve people (Do we care? Hell no! YOLO!), drink a few cold ones, dance and pee in the ocean, almost sink the boat after being fiercely circled by a vicious gang of sharp-toothed sharks (some dudes on jet-skis who clearly do not speak English), and proceed to get “wasted, fools”.
After returning the boat, we head to the resort pool as uninvited guests (YOLO!), drink $150 worth of pool-side margaritas (YOLO!), get ever-so-slightly lost on the one-mile drive back to the lake-house (YODO!), and carry on to drink as much as possible between 6pm and 9pm…when a special guest is arriving for our misplaced entertainment…
In an effort to drink as much as possible in a short amount of time, I decide the most efficient route to achieve this is through my (in)famous haircuts! As a renowned hairstylist, I have performed my haircuts in a variety of settings, including but not limited to: handball tournaments, racquetball tournaments, track meets, birthday parties, and pre-gaming events. I begin the haircut by sitting the client down comfortably on a seat (usually, toilet, but the high-end clients get a bar seat, while the clients who have not made an appointment get the floor), tilting their head back at an 85° angle, pouring their non-alcoholic beverage of choice in their mouth, mixing with their alcoholic beverage of choice, and topping off with the former non-alcoholic beverage of choice. And ze haircut iz complete!
*A side note* I never did very well at track meets, or racquetball tournaments… maybe I took a few too many inches off…
The special guest is….wait for it….a STRIPPER (are you shocked and dismayed? So was Jill). As soon as I sense the stripper is getting near, I retire to my futon for a mid-evening power nap. I briefly wake up, peek into the living room, see the stripper shaking his booty and quickly decide to go back to sleep. I later learn Jill tried to divert attention by engaging the stripper in conversation: “So, how did you get into this business? Do you like what you do?”…unfortunately for Jill, the stripper wasn’t much of a chatter.
After the stripper leaves, we promptly get picked up by a limo, destination: 6th street!!
Highlights of 6th street:
– CeCe singing on stage within (no joke) 3.5 seconds of arriving at Bar #1.
– CeCe and I taking part in pizza, part 2. After eating, I turn my head for one moment, and CeCe has disappeared…well done, Houdini, well done.
-While searching for Bar #2, I come across a Kirby who has had one too many haircuts, and an Ann that has clearly not had enough. Ann points me in the direction of Bar #2, and we proceed to dance the night away!
– Pizza Part 3 and limo ride home. Surprisingly, everyone makes it back to the lake-house in one piece and we have a de-brief session over….Pizza Part 4. Head to bed at 4AM, for a 7AM wake-up…
a relaxing morning of a high fiber breakfast eating pizza at 7AM and frantically running around, getting ready to head to Marble Falls for a fake triathlon! In typical Tracey fashion, I have ambitiously made a poor life decision: Perform a dry-run of my upcoming triathlon course, the morning after a bacherlorette party on 6th street. YOLO!!!
Whitney, Valerie, Patty and myself meet up at Val’s friends’ lake-house and decide to re-arrange the order of athletic events to account for the chilly weather. The bike will come first, followed by the run, with a nice swim in the lake to finish ‘er up.
We follow the extremely complex biking instructions (Go 3 miles north on highway 281. Continue north on highway 281. Pass Pecan street, and continue north on highway 281. Turn around and go south on highway 281. Continue south on highway 281. Surprise–continue south on highway 281!)
Unfortunately, it gets dicey a few miles later, when the shoulder of the highway disappears, and Whitney gets a flat tire. She expertly replaces the tube and continues riding. Five minutes later, the tube has popped, she has no more spare tubes, and a limited supply of CO2 cartridges = trouble. She gingerly replaces the second tube with the first tube, straps the tube across her back like a true warrior, and hopes the leak is slow and will enable her to ride the remainder of the 25 miles without hitchhiking. The tube holds up and we finish the bike ride, many an hour later.
We gear up for the run, heading for the lake. A few miles in, Whitney and I notice Val and Patty are nowhere to be seen…they’ve decided they have had enough, leaving Whitney and I to find the lake and swim it out solo.
After receiving directions to the lake from a cute, elderly couple (“You girls sure look like you’re working hard”), we arrive at the
sewage tank lake. We debate the probability of contracting a disease in this lake, weigh it against our desire to cool off and finish this darned faux triathlon, and take a diving leap in.
Within a few minutes of swimming, Whitney decides while she is OKAY with the potential diseases in the water, she is uncomfortable with our proximity to boats speeding by (“We may die by disease but we’d definitely die if we got struck by a boat”). I re-assure her my brightly colored swim cap will surely alert drunk boaters to our presence, and that will we stay close to shore. We continue swimming in the disorienting, murky water, periodically crossing into each other’s paths, laughing, and resuming the swim. After crashing into one another, we take a break and Whitney lets out a bloodcurdling scream, “SHARK!! I mean, gah… what is this?!”. She has stepped on the Loch Ness monster! Actually, it was just the floor of the lake, as the water levels are so low, we can literally sit on on the bed of the lake, while keeping our head above water. We swim for another 20 minutes, allowing small breaks for Whitney to scream bloody murder after bumping into a log she believes is a sewage shark, and negotiating the distance we will swim:
“Let’s go to that house over there”.
“What?! No, that house is SO far! How about that buoy?”
“That buoy is 50 feet away! Compromise to the chair in between?”
“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”
Whitney and I eventually finish the swim, and drag ourselves out of the water, so tired we are forced to walk the remaining 3 miles back to the lake-house. We blend right in, walking through downtown Marble Falls (6th street –full circle from last night!) in our tri one-sies, looking like we’ve just been through a battle zone. After cleaning up, we head to the nearest restaurant we can find, down a burger and sweet potato fries in 2.5 seconds, and I begin the four-hour journey back to Dallas, keeping a keen eye out for a McD ice cream cone. Unfortunately, I have taken a back route through hodunk towns, with no McD in sight (WHAT!?) and am only able to get my ice cream when I reach the Dallas line. I get home, turn my room into a disaster zone, and promptly flop face-down into bed.
All in all, a slightly more eventful weekend than typical.
HAPPY BACHERLORETTE, JILL!!