THE VIEW FROM HERE.
By Edward D. H. Tash

The other day, I got a phone call from an old friend, Buddy Delmont. His brother, Larry, was getting married again -- third time's the charm. Buddy was calling to invite me to the bachelor's party. This would be the fourth bachelor's party for Larry that I had attended, the second one having caused the cancellation of his second would-be marriage and subsequent divorce.

At the last bachelor's party, we went camping at the farm of Buddy and Larry's parents, and except for rain, mud, being shot at by the neighbors, getting my car stuck, a massive hangover and promising the State Police that we wouldn't call in any more UFO sightings, we had a great time.

I've known the Delmont brothers since I was in grade school. Larry started out a year ahead of Buddy and me, but by the third grade Buddy and I had caught up. By high school I passed them both. Larry isn't the brightest guy I know, but he's picky about his beer. He won't drink American swill.

I'm sure that everyone knows the Delmont brothers, or someone just like them. Think of that old friend that your spouse doesn't like, and you know Buddy and Larry Delmont.

The plan for the latest bachelor's party was for us to meet Saturday night and go to a strip joint that serves Carlsberg on tap. Buddy arranged for this Armenian he works with to be the designated driver. He was a really nice guy and we all got along fine until he picked a fight with a biker and we all had to run for our lives. But like they always say, nobody's perfect.

The place was a seedy joint on 7th Street. It smelled of stale beer and sweat. I had gotten all the precautionary shots (typhoid, cholera, tetanus, smallpox and plague) recently, as this is always a good idea when going anywhere with the Delmont
brothers. I won't go into the sordid details of the dancers disrobing or how their bodies gyrated and pulsated to the music. No need to bring those kinds of sleazy details into the 'Dog'. If you ever want to go to such an establishment, I recommend
CENSORED. I told the owner that I was writing a review and he bought us a pitcher if I would give him a plug.

When it was time to go, we found that our Armenian designated driver had misunderstood Buddy. He thought Buddy had told him not to drink beer, so he drank Wild Turkey instead. I know we should have kept an eye on him, but the girls were easier to spot and more fun to watch. We didn't know what to do, since we all were too drunk to drive. So, we did what any reasonable person would do -- we ordered another pitcher of Carlsberg and tried to come up with a plan. On the third pitcher our fate was decided for us. The fight between the Armenian and the biker had started, and we ran out of the bar and found a taxi just outside the front door. The four of us dove in and told the driver tojust drive.

After a few minutes and a few blocks we saw a sign for a drive-through liquor store. We asked the cabbie to stop at the window, and he said he was about to finish his shift and if we'd share the beer he'd cancel the fare. The rest of the evening is fuzzy. I do remember singing "American Pie" at a karaoke bar, eating breakfast at a White Castle and finding another taxi to take the five of us home.

I didn't make it to the wedding. I figured that it would be anti-climactic after the bachelor's party. Besides, I can always go to the next Delmont wedding -- Buddy is getting married in next spring.


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