It’s 4:53 AM, according to my truck’s radio. I remember falling asleep in the driver’s seat; my tailbone still aches. Now I find myself in the back seat, using a combination of kid toys and coats for a pillow. The imprint of a seatbelt digs deep into my side. The high-pitched buzz of mosquitoes circling around my head makes it tough to fall back asleep. I dig around in the floorboard and find one of Mason’s windbreakers, which I use to cover my head and drown out the noise of mosquitoes and rain. As I close my eyes once again, I go back over the day’s events, tracing the path that led me to this point.

Saturday, at 8AM, I picked Jeff up at his house. From there, the two of us met up with Scott at the Waffle House. We’re there to have breakfast before hooking up with the rest of the convoy, heading out to Andy’s bachelor party which is taking place at his parents lake lot down at Fort Cobb. Despite the fact that I’m on a fairly strict diet for a weight loss contest at work, I already knew all bets would be off this weekend, and I got the anti-diet started early with an omelet, bacon and sausage. At the Waffle House we may have met the world’s worst waitress; she wasn’t rude, but painfully dumb. Her parting comment to us was, “I hope your change is right, or close. I’m not so good with math.”

After meeting up with the other guys at Andy’s brother’s house, we began the drive to Fort Cobb, about an hour southwest of Mustang. Upon arrival we unloaded all the food, snacks and beer into the cabin. After hanging out there for an hour or two, we headed down to the lake for several hours of drinking, fishing, and hanging out. All the fishermen complained about the weather (windy and overcast) but it felt perfect. There were enough lawn chairs and ice chests for everyone to have a seat. I didn’t bring a fishing pole but Jeff brought his son’s Rocket Fishing Rod for me to use. After several hours of fishing hunger began to set in, so a few of us went back to the cabin to get the grill and loaded it into the back of someone’s pickup. Back lakeside, we had a literal tailgate cookout.

After chowing down on burgers, brats and hot dogs (but no fish) we headed back to the cabin, where after a bit of down time the night’s poker tournament was organized. With eleven people playing we decided to have two tables going at once.

By this time all of us had been drinking heavily, some of us more heavily than others. Not that there was anyone sober at this point in the game, but the “less drunk” people obviously had an advantage over the “more drunk” people. I’m not saying which group I was a member of, but the last hand I played I anted a chocolate doughnut, went all in on hopes of flopping a pair of fours, and fell out of my chair at least twice.

Eventually the losers migrated to the living room where we played a few hands for fun. At some point the room began to spin so I went outside to get a bit of fresh air. The next thing you know, it’s 4:53 AM, and I’m sleeping in my truck.

Around 8 AM Sunday, Jeff, Andy and I (all of us with pounding headaches) picked up the cabin a bit while everyone else slept before beginning the very long drive home. The ride was mostly quiet, save for the wind blowing in through the cracked windows. After dropping Andy and Jeff off at their respective destinations, I went home, crawled into bed, and slept another five or six hours.

Here’s to ya, Andy. If the success of your wedding is decided by the amount of fun we had this weekend, you guys should stay happily married for about 370 years.