Today's story covers a universal feminine ritual known as the bachelorette party. Modern society considers it to be a feminist response to the bachelor party, but actually it has roots in ancient traditions. Virgin brides were instructed as to what the bridal night's revelries entailed, and were given useful hints for dealing with any contingencies such as a drunken groom. The old rituals usually covered several weeks of domestic training and the preparation of a trousseau. During these times women gossiped about pregnancies, childbirth, child care, husband beating and other pertinent topics concerning the state of marital bliss. However, in Unalaska some women have reverted to even more primitive forms of the rituals, and so I will relate to you this tale of:
JJ beat the odds and found true love on her return to the island. All the matrons of the local warhorse society wanted to give JJ a proper send-off into connubial bliss from the Elbow Room. As a part of the festivities a game was planned that was a spin-off, or should I say "sin-off" of the child's game, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. VD wanted me to draw a life-sized naked man, sans external organs in the nether region. The women at the party would try to rectify that matter during the game. I went to the lounge at Carl's Bay View Inn, where VD worked in the afternoon as a bartender. I used the floor as my drawing table since the picture was going to be so large. VD was impressed by my efforts, stating that she wouldn't mind meeting a guy like the hunk I had illustrated on a vinyl piece of table cloth. I kept my opinion to myself for once, but I felt that complete anatomical correctness would have enhanced the subject's appeal. I considered putting a note next to the groin, but since the players were going to be blindfolded, "put penis here" would have been a useless attempt at direction. I also refrained from marking the spot with a big X. In any event I didn't think there were going to be any women at the party who didn't know where a man's "hood" hung. I had been invited to the party but I had to decline. I worked the night shift as a cab driver back then. My boss was a work-a-holic who didn't believe in time off for anything except death. I don't think she would have accepted that as a valid excuse to miss work except while state licensing regulations didn't precisely state the holder of the permit had to be living, they did imply it. Our cab company had an exclusive agreement with the Elbow Room, so we were always called when they needed transportation for their customers. During the evening we were frequently called to the Elbow Room. The two male drivers got the first few rounds of calls and they commented on how wild the party must be. They said their customers were all men and they were complaining about being scared out of the Elbow by the women. When I finally got a chance to pick up a call from the Elbow I saw two men running out the door as I pulled up. A fisherman's wife who was a friend of mine was chasing them down the street with a wooden ruler. She was yelling, "If you measure up you can come in! Just let me measure you!" : I didn't see anyone else come out and my friend stopped chasing the men at the corner, though they kept running like the devil was after them. When I asked the manager of the bar where my fares were I found out the two men who had been running away were it. It seems my friend the fisherman's wife was the bouncer for the party. She had decided that a minimum length rather than a minimum age was in order for the event. Apparently some men were shy about exposing their most tender parts in the proximity of a wooden ruler. I couldn't help but wonder if they had gone to catholic school. I have heard the nuns used to be very handy with a ruler. On another call to the Elbow there were a bunch of women standing outside in a little cluster. One of them was VD and she was holding a huge replica of a phallus made from cotton and nylon stocking material. It brought to mind Lorraina Bobbitt, who had cut off her husband's penis, though I doubt he was so well endowed. "Hey Lorraina!" I yelled at VD, who was going inside, "can you go in and see where my fares are?" VD had to come over and ask me what I had called her since she couldn't hear me over the engine of the cab. After teasing her a bit about her "game piece" I asked her again to check on my fares. She assured me they hadn't run off this time. As it turned out it was two women and they were pretty upset. I knew the older woman and considered her to be something of an evil hag. The younger one was howling about having been done wrong and was obviously southern. I listened quietly to their tale of woe and didn't believe a word of it, but kept silent about my opinion. They were claiming that another woman, SL, had beaten them up for no reason at all. In the hag's case, quite frankly I had wanted to pummel her on more than one occasion myself. As for the young banshee, I thought she needed to be thrashed just for making such a racket. The next day I went down to visit VD before going to work. She always has the straight scoop on everything and she has no problem with doling out the dirty details. It seems the young banshee had cheated in the pull-your-bra-off contest. She was wearing a sports bra and had hiked it up around her neck before the contest. When the official said "go" she pulled it over her head without any hesitation while everyone else was trying to find a modest way to unhook their bras under their shirts and get their arms out of the straps. She was cited for cheating and began her howling. SL had just stepped in and was assaulted by this cacophony of grief. Apparently the banshee thought SL might feel sorry for her and get someone to give her the prize. While the banshee was seeking SL's sympathy the old hag, who hated SL, came up behind her and started telling her off. She kept poking SL in the shoulder really hard while she was doing this. SL is a big amazon of a woman and simply snapped an arm back to get rid of the hag. It was a small, but efficient movement that sent the hag flying. There were two men sitting in an alcove known euphemistically as "the blue room." Local legend has it that particular part of the bar was once a little room until the walls were removed, and that it had been painted blue at one time. One of the men who had been in the blue room was sitting in Carl's as VD related the night's events. He broke in at this point to tell us his version of what happened next. "Larry and I were sitting in the blue room when suddenly something went flying past us and landed on the floor. When we looked down to see what it was, there was this woman laying flat on the floor and out cold. 'My god,' I told Larry, 'it's a woman!'" With this the man shook his head at such goings on and continued with a chuckle, "Larry just said, 'Well, looks like the party is getting good!'" On top of the minumum size, the game, the contest, a lot of drinking and the fight, there was supposed to be a male stripper. When he looked at the fierce gazes from the circle of women around him he lost his nerve and couldn't dance. The man who had jumped into VD's and my conversation at Carl's and several other guys who had braved the minimum length requirement ended up volunteering their services and the man's comment about the women was, "You women are way worse than men! You should be locked up!" I told him that men are always complaining about there not being enough women on the island, and then when they have the undivided attention of a bunch of lustful wenches ready for action they chicken out. "You men don't know what you want, you big babies!" I decided with an aggressive tone that caused the man to turn away and talk to another man who had moved to his other side.
From what I hear, the groom's party was pretty tame in comparison. At least nobody got beaten up.
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