Bachelor Party Tales

Back before 9/11, anyone could

Pass through airport security and

Go to wander the concourse,

Watch the planes.

When a man was about to be married,

Phil and friends dressed him in a

Superman costume, with an unexpected

Addition.

At the airport, they tried to go through security,

But Superman couldn’t get through.

A man with a metal-detecting rod came,

Checked him out.

Superman of any type is not something you

See every day. But this Superman had

Balls of Steel, BBs sewn in the area of

The crown jewels.

I heard another story, where friends

Blindfolded the groom and stood him up

And took turns shooting him with a

Paint ball gun.

“We laughed because he acted as if

It really hurt him. All good fun,

Until we saw his back the next day,

Bruises everywhere.”

I’ve heard stories about Phil’s own bachelor party.

Boulder lacked public nudity laws,

And, as I understand, safety laws as well.

One hurting friend

Stood up in the back of a truck,

Exercising his freedom. I wonder if

The driver suddenly glanced in the rearview mirror to see

The crown jewels.

This is all funny. It was less so when

The best man picked Phil up overhead,

Something he’d done in college

Regularly.

But he was weaker, Phil was heavier,

And he dropped Phil like a stone

On some river rocks.

“Sorry, man.”

And so Phil entered matrimonial bliss,

Purple bruise from shoulder to elbow.

The few ribs broken made it sometimes

Hard to breathe.

I think about these stories, in wonder

At the <em>cojones</em> of the first man,

To brave the stares and try to enter the airport

As Superman.

I wonder about the second man,

Why he stood there, taking the shots,

And didn’t rip off his blindfold and

Charge his friends.

And for my husband, whose story I know more:

I wonder how he managed on our honeymoon

To row the boat against the wind,

To play tennis.

I am in wonder still.