I’m not sure why, but it seems like everybody gets married at 26. Like there’s some unspoken timeline that tells you to wait four years after college then pop the question. At least among my friends.
I went to three weddings last summer. Before then, I hadn’t been to a wedding since I was 8. They’re always fun and it’s a good chance to catch up with college roommates I don’t see anymore. So I’m not complaining.
But I’ll admit, I’ve grown lukewarm to the whole bachelor party idea. For some reason, these parties have ballooned into bigger-than-life, bank-account emptying extravaganzas.
Let me explain: The first of my friends to be married gathered a group for a weekend in Baltimore to watch the college lacrosse championships. Sounds nice right?
Another is planning a fishing trip on the Chesapeake Bay. Even better. But others are organizing a trip to a New Orleans jazz festival, and even a long weekend in Las Vegas.
It’s almost like each has to be bigger and bolder than the previous. Since when? My dad spent a night in a dive bar with some old pals.
I blame part of this on the movie “The Hangover.” I didn’t think much of the flick. But it’s popular among 20-somethings and seems to suggest a bachelor party doesn’t count unless you end the night in jail or with a tattoo.
To me, all these escalating bachelor parties sound dizzying. And I’m not quite ready to spend my life savings on hotel rooms in New Orleans and Las Vegas.
So I say tone down the bachelor party. Let’s keep things on the East Coast, at least.
I never really thought of myself as settling down. I planned to travel the world instead. Or at least avoid marriage until middle age. So there will be a lot of bachelor parties before my own. And at this rate, I’ll have to come up with something big.
I’ve heard the private space industry is really taking off.
Maybe we’ll all fly to the moon.