We sat in the airport in Minneapolis. We were flying from Milwaukee to Las Vegas and we had an hour layover here in the twin cities. Our gate for the connection was right across the concourse from our first flight, so we had time to kill.
"Want Starbucks?" I asked Zane.
"Yeah, a small black coffee would be great."
"Dude, it's called a tall" I jested with him. He just rolled his eyes. I walked down the concourse and stood in line. I got our drinks and carried them back to Zane.
"Fucking airport. These two drinks cost me more than a good pizza."
Zane reached out and took his coffee and squinted at me. "We're going to a bachelor party in Vegas and you think THIS is expensive?" he motions to his cup. "This whole 'double bachelor party' is a terrible idea, I just know it."
He's been against this whole trip since it came about. Our good buddy Owen was getting married and he originally wanted a regular old bachelor party but his future brother-in-law wasn't having it. He insisted we blow it out in Vegas. His words, not mine.
"Owen is so love sick right now, he'll do anything Cecelia wants, including letting her "swishy" gay brother plan the bachelor party." I took a sip of my iced coffee and then continued, "Truthfully, I'm sure this is her plan. Have Dorian keep an eye on Owen, you know?"
"Speaking of swishy, dude, the way you just sucked on that straw. That was swishy."
"Fuck off Zane."
Zane kept talking, as usual. "Wouldn't it have been easier for Dori to watch Owen at a club in the city? Vegas will be harder to micro manage. And I can't even imagine the actives he's planned. I swear dude, if we end up at a fucking gay strip show, I'm going to lose it."
"Okay. First, don't call him Dori. It's Dorian. You sound like an ass hole. Second, what would happen if we did end up at a Chippendales thing?" He looks like he's about to answer me but I continue, "you might see a mostly naked man, oh no!" I said sarcastically.
"Alright Dylan, I get it. I'm the caveman here." He says it so dryly that I know he thinks I'm overreacting. But besides Dorian, who we're stuck with because he's tied to Owen, there will be at least one other gay guy on this trip.
"You just have to watch it, please. I know you're not a bigot, but come on man, it's the 21
st
century, get woke" I can barely say the last two words without chuckling. I love to push his buttons.
Zane's really not a bad guy. He works for a lesbian and he's got nothing but respect for her. She owns and runs a gutter cleaning company and he's worked for her for four years. Owen had been bringing Dorian around for the last few months. Dorian is Cecelia's twin brother, and her Man of Honor in the wedding. Dorian is really smart and funny and very flamboyantly gay. He says "fabulous" constantly, but he's a good guy and easy to hang out with in our group.
Besides Dorian, the other gay guy I expected to be on the trip was Dorian's best friend, Jose. Jose does IT at some bank in Brookfield. He's the second bachelor for this weekend's double bachelor party. Jose actually got married a few weeks back to an older guy he met online only a couple of months ago, if Dorian is to be believed. Dorian forced him into this trip, too. I'm pretty sure Dorian is the only person who wants to go to Vegas.
The boarding announcement finally comes and we stand and shuffle to the line. We're seated in the middle of the plane. Zane can't stop checking out one of the flight attendants. She's short and plump with a really pretty face and nice hair. I can hear the gears turning in his head before he even speaks.
"Think I could get her to initiate me into the mile high club?" Zane says as he leans towards me, eyes still on the girl.
All I can manage is a big, deep sigh. Vacation Zane is the worst version of Zane you can get. He's a hard worker at home, a steady friend and he's a great son. He takes care of his mom and his grandma. He does their lawns and shovels snow at both houses. His younger half brother looks up to him, with good reason.
But when on vacation, Zane drops all pretenses of civilized behavior and becomes a rude party animal. This party animal hasn't gotten a beer in his hand yet and hasn't shown off at the bar, so he's acting like an ass instead. I might not survive the next few days.
Zane and I met freshman year of high school. We'd gone to the same junior high, but we weren't in the same cliques, so we didn't know each other beyond our names. We met at try outs for football. We both made the team and we hit if off and became best friends. We've remained close ever since.
We got our first shared apartment when we were twenty. Neither of us went to college. He did construction jobs and I worked at a car dealership as a detailer. We lived together for five years. He moved in with his girlfriend after that and I bought a small fixer upper.
He broke up with that girlfriend shortly after they shacked up and she moved out. He decided to keep the apartment they had had together and he declared his new permanent status as a man whore. That apartment preceded to see countless girls paraded through its bedroom for the next three years.
Zane is a very good looking guy. He has olive skin from the Greek side of his family. Dark hair and dark blue eyes. They almost look black most of the time, but every once in a while you see the blue. It's really unique. I've never met anyone else with eyes like his. Working construction and now climbing on roofs all day has given him a fit, firm body. He also works out three or four times a week. He shaves his dark facial hair, leaving him a square shadowy jaw line that the ladies love.
I'm not too bad looking myself. I have an easy time with the ladies, that's for sure. I'm six feet tall and have a pale Germanic complexion and hazel eyes. My hair is brown and a little wavy. Even though none of my features are spectacular on their own, they combine to make a sum better than it's parts. I have been wearing a trim beard for a while. Zane calls it my hipster beard because of course he does.
I moved up from detailer at the dealership and eventually went to work for a huge car auction facility south of the city. I'm now the sales manager and I'm making great money. I buy new used cars for myself at least every twelve months. Working at the auction makes it way too easy. I sell what I'm driving and buy something else. Whatever strikes me in the moment.
I still live in the house I bought three years ago. I fixed it up and it's a really killer bachelor pad. I have a big yard and two awesome dogs. I built a bigger garage and it has the two cars I've bought and kept in two of its three stalls. I got a vintage Cadillac as my first big purchase after starting at the car auction. I love that car even though it runs like shit. In the middle stall is my 2015 Corvette. My splurge. My baby. Its goes so fucking fast. It's the best worst decision I ever made.
My daily driver is a slightly lifted F150 FX4. I am a truck guy now. I will probably never not drive a truck for the rest of my life. It's practical for my hobbies, my home repairs and it's so damn Wisconsin, I just can't help but love it. Zane drives a hideous hand me down Corolla with Packers stickers from the previous owner all over it. I'm embarrassed to even look at it. He can afford something nicer, anything would be nicer, but he's cheap as hell. Another reason he's hating this Vegas trip.
After landing in Vegas and catching a shuttle bus to The Luxor, we checked into our room. Excuse me, our suite. I guess if it has a separate bedroom it's a suite. I'm confused though. There's a king sized bed in the bedroom and a pull out sofa in the living room. How and why did we get a fucking expensive suite with only one real bed? I feel myself releasing another huge sigh.
