So Jay’s bachelor party was this past weekend in Montreal. Surprisingly no one was arrested, and the most horrible thing I did was eat McDonald’s a couple of times late night. Or maybe every night late night, whatever. Still, given the fact it was a bachelor party with us for Jay, I would have imagined much more terrible things coming to fruition, so I would say given that context it was a great success. When the only thing you are taking home from a bachelor party is +10,000 calories you are in good shape. Well, not physically good shape, but you know what I mean. Anyways, on to a short story.

The night started with Ian and I purchasing Molson Dry 1.5 (I think) liter cans. That is approx 50oz, its like a tub of beer. Anyways, this wasn’t any beer, this was special instant black out beer. 10.1% alcohol content. Sick. I barely got 1/4 of the way into mine before deciding it was the worst idea ever conceived and moved onto BLs. I am a coward. Ian pressed on finishing the entire container of death juice, and we went out. Yadda yadda yadda, here are the texts from that night, as seen by myself the following morning:

(read starting from June 28th and note the timestamps)



So that was what I read the next morning, let’s Tarantino this thing and work our way back through the night.
I got back to the hotel at 3ishhhh, and tried my keycard, no dice. Went downstairs, told them it didn’t work, got looked at like I was a drunk idiot because I was a drunk idiot and they just asked my room number and swiped it, probably assuming I was just unable to operate a door in my condition. Comforting that there was no request for identification beyond that, but that’s besides the point now.
Back upstairs, still can’t get it to work. I decide getting into the room is now my second priority, because of how badly I need to urinate. I call Brian, he let’s me into their room, and I relieve myself and peek further into the room to see what he’s up to. The desk lamp is on in the otherwise darkened room and he is hunched over something on his desk. I try to peer closer, and he is hunched over an order of McDonald’s with an extra helping of shame. I say “hey–” but am cut off by him yelling, “DON’T LOOK AT ME!” I press a bit, saying “what’s up?” and he repeats himself, this time louder and more angrily, “DON’T LOOK AT ME!!” So I walk slowly out, closing the door behind me. Time to try the room again.
Back downstairs, I get another disapproving look from the hotel staff with my request to gain entry to the room I paid for, but someone comes upstairs. 45 minutes of the front desk calling the room, us banging on the door and them trying to unlock it with a master key later the staff guy asks me, “are you sure he’s in there?” to which I think to myself.. “shit maybe not..” He then adds, “if he is in there, he isn’t alive.” Comforting. Especially considering they aren’t able to get in. He brushes that under the rug and just says they’ll give me another room. As in, if you’re friend is dead in there don’t worry about it, here’s a free room!
I get into the room and text the group, matter of factly stating “Ian might be dead or not at the hotel. I can’t get in my room and neither can the hotel staff.”
They call, ask what room I’m in and come upstairs. We go back to my room, Jay knocks on the door and Ian just opens it. If it wasn’t for the fact I actually had another room given to me, my story would probably have no credence to it whatsoever. Jay didn’t even knock that hard on the door. After the audio barrage that we subjected him to it is a mystery why that woke him and the rest didn’t.

The next night, when Ian snuck out of that club without telling anyone again (Brian asked where he was going, and Ian answered, “shhhh”) he made sure to double check the door and leave a very well thought out / coherent text stating the door is unlocked, if he isn’t answering he isn’t dead and is just asleep, etc etc.

I guess the moral of the story is, don’t drink Molson 10.1% alcohol or your friends keycard will break and they will assume you are dead.