Want to gauge how cool your best friend’s future wife really is? Just tell her you’re planning beau-to-be’s bachelor party.If she’s cool with that, they’ll be together forever. If she’s not, hey, at least he can look back on that one incredible night before he got locked up.
But we’re not talking any bachelor party. We’re talking one that folks will write songs about. One that preferably involves police sirens, little people on trampolines, horses, tassles, and enough booze to hospitalize a six-foot-seven African American lady dressed as Wonder Women (this will make more sense later).
It’s up to you to make sure he has the best send-off ever, so whether you already live in Los Angeles or you’re planning a trip with the boys, we’ve got you covered for a Hollywood (and surrounding) bachelor fest you’ll never remember.
It’s LA. Traffic is terrible. Get over it. You know what’s worse? Being the drunken idiot who blocks a busy street with his car after he gets pulled over by the cops for driving on the sidewalk. This is the last night you’d want to be behind the wheel—and cramming the boys into your ’82 Civic is out—so make the donation rounds to the groomsmen and get a limo bus—preferably one with a bathroom in back. Trust us.
Get a Room
Doesn’t matter if you were born and raised here; get a hotel room or two. Sure, a two-bedroom suite at the famed Chateau Marmont starts at around five grand, but if you ever wanted proof that glamorous celebrities get as disgustingly sloppy when they party as everybody else, this is where to find it. Another stellar historic haunt is The Roosevelt Hotel right in the heart of Hollywood, which isn’t nearly as wallet-busting and houses several popular entertainment options, including multiple bars and a pool that promises to be more chlorine than pee until you guys get through with it.
Maybe you don’t know a thing about racing. Maybe you think a thoroughbred is just a really thick piece of toast. Who cares? Start the day early by banging down to the Hollywood Park Racetrack just three miles south of the LA airport or Santa Anita east of Downtown. Put a few bills on black at Hollywood Park’s onsite casino, then take your winnings and bet it all on whatever horse reminds you most of the future bride. Hopefully it’s not Bridle of Frankenstein or Will Run For Food.
Doesn’t matter if your bro’s a foodie or not – you take him to Taco Bell for his bachelor dinner and you can kiss any groomsman role goodbye. And that means no bridesmaids. So man up! If you’re in a rush to get the night started, drop in to Wurstküche downtown, where exotic sausages like rattlesnake, duck, and alligator complement two dozen craft Belgian and German beers on tap.
Library Bar is also a cool nearby gastropub and lounge, or better yet, go with some tradition and dine like real gentlemen at Musso and Frank, a Hollywood institution with enough steak and whiskey on hand they should rename it Steaskey! Whisteak? We’ll work on it.
After dinner, pop on over to Hemingway’s, one of the best bars in LA for specialty craft drinks, a swanky vibe, and vintage library digs with over 10 thousand books stuffed onto towering floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Reservations are a must – and perusing a few Cliffs Notes isn’t a bad idea either if you want to impress all the pretty ladies in attendance with your faux literary skills. Just remember this advice from the legendary womanizer for which the place is named, “always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.” Also, Moby Dick is about a whale.
Even if you didn’t book The Roosevelt, head on back there for a chance to experience one of the weirdest clubs in LA: the subterranean Beacher’s Madhouse, a throwback vaudeville-inspired spectacle where you’re as likely to see a little person fly through the air as a tiger, a dude dressed as Big Bird, and a six-foot-seven African American Wonder Woman traipse across the stage (now it makes sense!).
Advanced reservations are equally important at this speakeasy-meets-asylum hotspot, but it’s totally worth the prep. Just remember one of the house rules: You can’t feed alcohol to the little people. And even though they are dressed the part, calling them Oompa Loompas is totally not cool, dude. Don’t be that guy.
Once the show is over, it’s time for the real traditions to begin. But don’t settle for just any strip club, gentlemen. Even though LA can’t compete with Las Vegas for its sheer quantity of scantily clad joints, there’s still Crazy Girls in Hollywood, where everybody—from the bouncers to the DJs to the girls themselves—is usually ripped from open to close. Introduce your boy to Candy, Tiffany, Sunshine, Autumn, and Destiny, and let him disappear for the next hour or so.
For a slightly tamer but still ridiculously sexy experience, get over to Jumbo’s Clown Room, where the women might not be totally naked but the bikinis are small, the burlesque leaves little to the imagination, and you can buy your boy a few more rides at his last rodeo.
Cap it all off with a few to-go orders from Canter’s Deli, where the pastrami is magic and plenty of dolled-up A-listers stumble in at 5am to unapologetically stuff their faces. Dust the crumbs off back in your hotel, or screw the hotel all together and have the limo take you, the little people, the tiger, Wonder Woman, and the trailing drunken crazy strippers up to the famed Griffith Observatory in Griffith Park, where you can watch the sun rise over the rest of your forever after perfect life.
This post originally appeared at Party Earth.
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