Okay, almost a week later I feel like I’ve recovered enough brain cells from the bachelor party to recall what happened. First of all, above the guys, from left and back around the table: K, The Ed, SternO, David (lil Shoo), Josh, Roommate Steve, barely functioning Shoo, and Philly G.
The day started out by going on a tour of the Anheuser Brewery in St. Louis. The place is like the Disney Land of beer. Seriously. Two, very good looking, from what the guys tell me, guides take a group of 50 or so camera toting tourists around from building to building. On the tour, we passed the Clydesdale’s, some massive tanks that hold beach wood and beer, some historical sites, the bottling area, and then a multimedia video about Anheuser the company, which isn’t anything more than brainwash material with pretty people. At the end though, they make it worth your while and serve you free beer and pretzels.
Afterwards, we headed over to the Schlafly Bottle Works brewpub. We feasted on venison, bison, goat cheese, and beer bread; all foods of the manly food group. Oh, and drank more beer. After the feast, we took a tour of the brewery which was more like a pony ride at the state fair compared to AB. Our guide, not hot because he was a dude- or at least that’s what the guys tell me, was super knowledgeable. The one tidbit that I learned, and will remind myself each time I order a Bud, is that the rice, considered a cheap filler, in cheap beer (Natty Light, The Beast) is what causes splitting headaches after a long night of drinking. That’s not to say that you won’t feel like crap with a hangover if you just drink good beer. It just means no splitting headaches.
With that knowledge in hand, we headed to the liquor store for cheap booze to take back to the hotel. At the hotel we bonded over old drinking stories, watched the World Series, and ate the best TWO Papa John pizzas, eve-r.
Now this is the part of the story that gets fuzzy, but I will do my best to recall censor what happened. We hoped a shuttle headed to a casino that we fully intended not to go to. Our decision as a group to which bar we would go to was decided by the hottest officer, as the guys tell me, on the street as she passed us by. “Officer, no.” I won’t even try to recall the name of the bar as to protect those that might have witnessed the dancing Shoo. But this unnamed bar contained a waitress doctor named Dr. Anita Hardon, which leads me to the next day, as I am totally not blogging about the rest of the night, when we’re recuperating at Steak N’ Shake in Collinsville and Josh is trying to recall the name of the good doctor in front of the, not so hot- I can verify this one, waitress. Josh who is notorious for his projecting voice questions the rest of the group, “Dr. Ani… Dr. ANITA HARDON!”
Yes, the whole restaurant gave us the evil eye.
Guys, it was awesome weekend. I hope you had as much fun as I did.
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