The one time in college where my friends and I almost got killed by a hitman and then ended up at a bachelor party

I had a great time in college and an even better time in grad school. Occasionally I'll remember some completely random thing that happened and have to sit for a minute or two and figure out if it actually happened, or if it was just a crazy, Mexican food inspired dream.

I just thought about this one tonight.

My friends Alicea and Megan (who has since disappeared from the face of the earth, although she PRESUMABLY lives near where we went to college) were at our favorite bar, the Union, one Thursday night. Or maybe it was a weekend. Days of the week blur when you're in college. It was a slow night -- if I remember correctly, it was only us on one side and few other patrons on the other side and the bartender, Herb. We were chatting and drinking a few beers, just enjoying a nice summer night when a group of guys walked in, obviously in bachelor party mode. Loud shenanigans and drunken antics and the like.

Naturally they gravitated towards us, the only females in the bar and started hitting on us. One sat next to me and the following conversation ensued:

Guy: Buenos noches, beautiful, my name is Richardo.
Me: Really? Is that so?
Guy: Of course...
Me: Actually, I'm sure it's NOT Richardo because your name is Dan and we went to high school together.
Guy: Oh, uh. Damn! You're Amanda!

But it gets awesomer.

We started catching up and another high school classmate who was with the group joined us. Everyone seemed to be having a fine time, but a half hour later they all decided to leave and go back to the hotel room they booked for the night to continue the party. They invited us to join then and we politely declined.

Minutes later a drunk old man comes in. Not like, "that guy is just lonely and trying to relive his youth in a college bar" kind of guy -- more like the "oh crap, lock your doors and drive fast" kind of guy. And he also sits down with us. And proceeds to weave a delightful tale that he is a hitman and is paid upwards of $100 to kill people. We all moved closer to each other, scooting as far around the table as we could get from this weirdo.

He then decides he needs to relieve himself, and preferably in the restroom. We pointed him in the direction of the neon 2-P sign and and waited until he was out of sight, then ran as fast as our legs could carry us to the parking lot and the safety of our cars, whispering "bye Herb!" as we escaped.


Now I just want to go back and say, with all due respect (and this is not a secret to anyone who reads this blog and knows Megan), but she was a fan of the mens. Like, big time. And she'd had her eye on one of the party members, so of course her vote was for joining the bachelors at the hotel. Alicea and I were never ones to pass up something like this if for no other reason that to retell the story at a later date. And this did not disappoint.

So we get to the party and it's pretty docile, honestly. There were some girls in bikinis sitting in the hot tub with Richardo/Dan and a beer pong table. Alicea and I played beer pong with some of the guys and Megan tracked down her fella and disappeared for the rest of the night.

I just wanted to write this to make sure I didn't forget it and to maybe share some memories with my old college friends. I've got a whole book's worth hidden in my brain somewhere -- I'll share them when they pop up.