Photo © Equipment Development Company, Inc., used with permission


Five young men, with woven strands of nose hair hanging from each nostril, sorted empty beer cans onto an oversized checker board. “It’s my turn to be Natty Light.”

“No way. You’re in the losers bracket. Losers bracket plays with Bud Light.” The young man adjusted the tiara that rode his close-cropped hair. “Can I just say that this is the lamest bachelor party ever. Barry, I love you like a brother, and I’m glad you’re my best man, but this sucks.”

“What are you talking about? We got our nose hair braided. What’s a better vehicle for male bonding than excess body hair?” He tugged on his braids, then yelped like a chihuahua after a door slammed on its tail.

“Yeah, but what’s the point of coming to Hawaii to do that? We could have gone to Duluth.”

Barry massaged his nose. “Do they have pineapple rasslin’ in Duluth? Only in Hawaii, my friend.” The others nodded and shrugged their shoulders. “Besides, the strippers are here. Close your eyes.”

A grin spread over tiara-man’s face. He closed his eyes and leaned back in a recliner, arms and legs splayed for maximum relaxation. “How many did you get?”

“I said to send a whole crew over. Don’t know how many that is.”

Four noses pressed into the bay window looking out to the oceanside drive. “Uh, Barry? I don’t think …” A flurry of shushes from Barry stomped out the conversation.

The hard thuds of steel-toed boots gave way to the even harder thud of heavy equipment landing on the floor. A crowd of laborers with knee pads and sweat-slicked shirts hovered around a floor stripper. “You want us to do the whole house?”

“Better ask Dave.” Barry said. “It’s his bachelor party.”