"Meet us at Piedmont Social House," my co-worker said as I attempted to chug an off-brand version of Pedialyte. Sighs.
The last time I'd gone to PSH was for a random after-house party. Before that? I'd gone to meet with the marketing manager about the grand opening. Both times? I was either working on a hangover or hungover wearing the same clothes I'd worn the night before.
In other words, I wasn't sure going there was a good idea.
Last week, I mentioned in my column that I ended up having to forego CIAA events for two reasons. The first being I partied too hard on Friday in French Quarter after planning just a drink or two after work with coworkers. The second being those same coworkers had planned a bus party. Now, if you've followed this column for a while, you know this isn't the first time I've gone on a party bus with these same coworkers to PNC for Weenie Roast and a Dave Matthews Band concert. Both times, I wanted to run for my life and grab an Uber by 9 p.m.
Nevertheless, one of those coworkers found out he was having a baby and why wouldn't my amazing friends think we should throw a party in his honor? That's when the concept of a "Dadchelor Bus" came to be. Oh, you didn't know? According to Google, it's a thing. A Dadchelor Party, or Man Shower, is a celebration of baby-making for the fellas. Welcome to the feminist movement of 2017?
Don't get me wrong, every party bus we've been on has been epic, but I was definitely scared. Especially given the fact that I'd gone to grab a beverage that I despise because it "prevents dehydration and replaces nutrients and electrolytes lost through vomiting and diarrhea."
By the time I started feeling better, I'd been at the dealership getting my oil changed for an hour and I was running late for the bus pick-up in Southend. That's when my coworker called suggesting I just meet the crew at PSH. That meant they were already well on their way as far as pregaming goes and I would be showing up completely sober to the beginning of a hot mess.
When I arrived by way 30 minutes later, all my friends greeted me with the warmest, happy-drunk welcome ever. While taking group pics (without the party bus in the background because apparently that was a faux pas at that point) I knew I would have to make a break for the bar to catch up ASAP. That's when one of my coworkers pulled out a baby bottle filled with a mixture of vodka and Gatorade. Ingenious. A Dadchelor-themed party bus complete with baby bottle party favors for every guest?! Too bad, Gatorade isn't a thick enough chaser for my palate, I couldn't even stomach the idea of sucking on a baby bottle nipple that anyone else had already suckled on. One RBV later accompanied by nausea, and we were hopping back on the bus for what seemed like the longest ride back to Uptown ever.
Soon after boarding the bus I realized I was nowhere near ready to rally. I know, I know, what a buzzkill I was, right? That's when baby bottle nipples were being thrown in my face. "Aerin, you're not tipsy enough, you need to drink it." "Oh no I'm fine, just chilling," I responded queasily. That didn't work. All I could think was, "This. Is. Happening. Get over it." What we didn't factor in, however, was that this was the first time we would be party busing without a "pot (or parking lot) to piss in." So imagine a bus full of full bladders riding on a bus with no bathroom and no destination. Yeah, I couldn't even focus on drinking a beer or music because after each bathroom break my anxiety went through the roof wondering when we'd stop by a bathroom again.
It wasn't until we were dropped off in front of Tyber Creek for Tyberpalooza and those of us that made it until 9 p.m. were nonsensical that I realized I was tipsy but still not drunk enough for the shenanigans. The line at Tyber was absolutely ludicrous and I was seeking shelter for my inner circle. I looked for anywhere we could find refuge, and that's when my eyes landed on Big Ben British Restaurant & Pub. I'd never been or knew anyone who'd been, and yet, there we were asking if we could stash our cooler anywhere, baby bottles in hand.
Needless to say, this party bus trip was one we will never forget, and I drank Pedialyte and survived the following morning like a Queen of the City should. The next time you're trying to get weird and can't find anything to do, hit the road in style and safety, grab a crew and rent a party bus!
