April & Whitney, Jen's former roommates from UK, had booked us a couple rooms at the 21C Hotel in downtown Louisville and made dinner reservations for us at the swanky restaurant next door called Proof. Everyone who didn't have to pack clothes for the next 6 months in a single suitcase got all dressed up and beautiful, and Jen even debuted fake eyelashes for the occasion.Then out came the champagne. The pasties. And the crotchless underwear.
At 7:30, we headed into what would be named "The Gone with the Wind dinner" by Christina, one of Jen's sorority sisters who has incredible eyes and a reliable stash of Chex Mix. Three hours of nibbling and waiting and being a little ignored later, we stepped out into the street and let the wind quite literally push us to 4th Street Live and the Maker's Mark Bar.Here's where things turn kooky.
Now, I've only been to a couple bachelorette parties. At Heather's, we all dressed up like cowgirls and went to a honky tonk bar and rode the bull and drank beer with penis straws and hired a gross man stripper and did the two-step with ugly guys. At Megan's, Liz and I sat at the bar at Marikka's while Megan enlightened us on the value of balancing your checkbook. Even with my limited experience though, I know that the bachelorette party is supposed to push the bachelorette out of her comfort zone... if for no other reason than she'll be spending the rest of her life there once she's married.
So while everyone was classily sipping their Bourbon cocktails (except for a very brave and pregnant Tara), Kara, Jen's friend from UK and my friend from Spanish class, and I decided we needed to spice things up. We decided Jen needed to get 30 kisses on the cheek from 30 different guys before she could go home and call it a night.
The first guy I asked said he couldn't because his girlfriend was right there, but I asked her if it'd be okay, and she said sure. One down, 29 to go.
At one point Jen power grabbed every guy who passed us by and pushed his lips into her cheek. It was then Kara and I realized we probably should have attached a consent clause to the 30-Kiss Challenge.
While the man eating was fun and definitely shifted the evening from regular girls' night out into bachelorette party mode, the real good times started when Jen clamored up onto a bull in a honky tonk bar full of shame. Yes, she objected at first. Yes, she tried to negotiate. Yes, she whined. Yes, she refused. But when push came to shove, that bachelorette climbed her coiffed side braid self up on that mechanical beast and held on for dear life.
Seeing Jen on a bull. That was way better than watching her collapse under the weight and sloppiness of a stumbly bachelor in the middle of the street who was one of her 30.Thanks for being a good sport Jen (& Mike). Hope you had a good time. And the best part, you never have to do it again!
