A Legend of a Night

I arrived in hot, muggy Brisbane late this afternoon and after a quick ride on the AirTrain checked into Bunk, a very swanky hostel in hip Fortitude Valley. I chose this location because it's close to ground zero for the evening's main event: Damian's bachelor party.

I met up with some of the boys at a nearby bar called Mango's, then we moved on to the official start at Luxe, a restaurant rated by Wine Spectator as one of the best in Queensland. The food was brilliant, but nothing compared to the reunion of friends I haven't seen in years. The reunion was nothing short of fantastic, an evening that made the preceding week's events seem insignificant in comparison.

That's the beauty of a wedding - people you love but haven't seen in years all come out of the woodworks to celebrate together, and it's probably the one aspect I most appreciate of friends' nuptuals over the past few years.

Anyway, I won't reveal any sordid details of Bucks' Night, simply because there aren't any. Ok, some very well-endowed blonde kept rubbing her endowments all over me as we talked at the bar. I love Australia...

Moving on... we shifted the party to Cru, Brisbane's finest wine bar, and not long after, the bachelorette party ran into us. We were pissing and moaning about the violation of the rules, but Damian made a good point - how often does he have all his friends in one place to party? We saw the reason there and decided to all join forces and party together.

We ended up drinking and dancing all night at the Press Club, and it simply rocked. It was like a pre-wedding reception, with plenty of funk, Bundaberg rum, and more funk. And for one shining moment on the dancefloor, I was Rick James, bitch.

The party thinned out not long ago, and several of us hung out and danced a bit longer. When we emerged from the club, we were in the midst of a harsh tropical downpour, as in droplets the size of watermelons.

Ok, not quite watermelons, but they came down huge and fast. It made for a very sticky goodbye as hugs were exchanged through soaked clothes, and I'm still wet as I sit here at Bunk's internet terminal. Despite my clothes clinging to me and my head dripping water, I have to say, it was a truly beautiful night. The music could've sucked, the drinks could've been weak, and I could've been even more tired - but none of those could ruin the joy of being reunited with friends.