Another one of my friends has recently gotten married. This means, of course, that another one of my friends has recently had a bachelor party. Historically, I've viewed bachelor parties as something of an unnecessary oddity. The generic image that comes to mind when I consider a bachelor party is a toned down version of the Tom Hanks film of the same name: Bachelor Party. Must see stuff, if you're into shitty 80s movies.
In that movie, Tom Hanks and his buddies party, nudity happens, someone drugs a mule (and blows it), and there's a crazy guy with a cross bow. This movie is similar to the recent Hangover films, I guess, though I've only ever seen bits and pieces of them because I don't like anyone in them. Digression.
The Bachelor Party (capital 'B', capital 'P') involves a group of men getting shit-faced, surrounding themselves with random naked women, and generally pursuing hi-jinks. For my bachelor party, I was very earnest in that there should be no naked women, because truth be told, I am a prude and feminism and blah, blah, blah.
My bachelor party involved getting up at 6:30 AM on a freezing ass cold day in March and playing paintball with a large group of friends and family. Afterwards, there was supposed to be much drinking and hi-jinks. I wanted to play stupid drinking games one last time. But alas, at 10:30, all of my friends went to bed. Assholes.
And that has more or less been the pattern with all of my friends' bachelor parties except for one. That one, in New Orleans, definitely involved hi-jinks. And there were many naked women. And at least one hilariously unintentional encounter with a prostitute, which could be a story unto itself (and not mine to tell). Moving on.
Other than that, all of my friends' bachelor parties have been the opposite of the Bachelor Party. Tame. Guys drinking. Video games. Dinner. Then me going home and passing out while watching Bachelor Party. Oh man, I wish that were true. But really I've passed out to The Burbs.
This most recent bachelor party, however, finally involved nudity again. But unlike New Orleans, or any typical chauvinistic wet dream Bachelor Party, this one didn't involve anonymous women getting naked for money. This time, the bachelor and all of his friends paid someone money so that we could get naked together.
Yes, I'm talking about the King Spa. My wife has previously tried to get me to go with her to the King Spa, but: (1) the notion of going to a spa seems strange to me, and (2) her description of what the experience involved did not seem like a good time.
"Well, first of all, there's a men's area and a women's area."
"So I'm not going to be with you?"
"Well at first. Yes."
"Then why would I go? I don't want to relax with strangers."
"Well, it's just for a bit. You go, and you get naked. And there are these amazing pools. Hot pools, cold pools. Steam rooms."
"But I'm naked?"
"Yeah, it's a spa. It's great. You'll love it."
"Are there other people?"
"Yes."
"So I'm naked with a bunch of dudes, and we get into a pool together?"
"Yes, and then there are--"
"I'm out."
"But you didn't let me fin--"
"I'm out."
So here I am months and months later. One of my closest friends, who I've known since we were six is getting married, and he wants to go to King Spa. Everyone is backing out. They're all going to meet up later for dinner. I feel like I have to go. I suck up my body image issues and decide to go get naked with my friend and four or five others.
It's an interesting thing being naked in a room full of strange men. I've not often found myself in this scenario, so I don't really know what the rules of engagement are. What is etiquette? I ask this of myself early and often.
First, before I go, I bathe thoroughly. I do not want to be the turd in the punch bowl. Upon arriving, all members of our group assert that they all have done the same. "Yes, yes, I washed first. Don't want to be turd in the punch bowl," says John. "Wouldn't want to carry a stink into the sink," Steve tells us all.
We've all bathed vigorously. And affirmed our cleanliness to the group. We make a couple of tittering jokes about how we're at a bachelor party, how we're not women, and that none of us is too eager for this experience. We're all playing it cautious.
When we get into the locker room, there is dong everywhere. First rule of public nudity, eyes up. This immediately reminds me of conversations I've had with girls in year's past where some female or another has asked me what my friend's penis looks like, because I showered with them in sports.
Ladies, it doesn't work that way. The first thing naked men do when being naked together is not examine each other's cock and balls. It's just not professional. Also, where do you get off asking about my friend's junk, high school girlfriend? That's like me asking my wife, "Hey, so your new friend Margaret, she's kind of cute. Is she seeing anybody? What's her vulva like?" Wrong, wrong, wrong.
All right. So eyes up. What's next? Time to disrobe. There's no backing down now.
Now, when you find yourself within a group of guys who are all getting naked together for the first time in a Korean bathhouse surrounded by 20-30 naked men of all ages, you have to make sure you disrobe properly. Too fast, and you're looking a little too eager. Too slow, and you're looking for a show. Or that's what I'm thinking to myself as I start to undress.
But while I've been thinking, I've unconsciously gotten fully naked while all of my friends are still untying their shoes.
What do you do when you're naked and no one else is? You wait. So there I stand, awkwardly fat and naked, eyes up, waiting for my friends to also be naked. When it's time, we all shower in separate stalls. Each of us has previously bathed, so we're mostly going through the motions. But clearly there are some people here who are making a show of it.
A 50-something bald man in one corner has been soaping and scrubbing his genitals for five minutes. An older Korean gentleman stands by a communal blow-dryer, whisking it back and forth over his pubic region.
This is once in a lifetime behavior. It never would have occurred to me to do that. I am seeing a world I never knew existed, and for which I have no concept of what society deems appropriate. Maybe the genital scrubbing is par for the course. Maybe the weirdos are the ones who don't blow dry their undercarriage. I don't know.
What I do know is that it's strange to me that father-son pairings are coming here. And that I'm extra hard avoiding looking at the 10-, 12-, and 15-year old boys that are in the great big room of naked with me. I definitely notice one man who is not sharing my conceit. Gross.
Regardless, the whole experience is an anthropological wet dream. Not because of the shapes, sizes, etc. of penises and bodies, but because of the human behavior. It's all quite fascinating. And I'll tell you, a hot pool followed by a frigid pool? Quite nice.
After the pools, we each get massages and then head off to a restaurant for BBQ. We eat an entire pig shoulder. And we shun everyone who came just for dinner.
"No food until you show us your weenis!"
We go back to my place, where I have kicked my wife and son out of the house for the evening. Once there, we play board games. Carcassonne. Blokus. Settlers of Catan. We drink beer until 11:30 and the bachelor ducks out.
By midnight, everyone is gone. My wife and child could have stayed home for this one. But hey, I've got a fridge full of beer, had a wicked massage, and found my encounter with public nudity strangely compelling. I will go back, King Spa. I will go back.
But first, Turner and Hooch.
