Lord knows we wouldn’t dream of leaving the state to mourn the end of the Asian Persuasion’s single-life — that would be traitorous to the great state of Connecticut. Instead, we headed to Mystic…and as usual, the town did not disappoint.
The Asian Persuasion as the Maid of Honor picked me up around 3:30 on Friday and we started our journey toward the little cottage we’d rented beside the Harbour Inne & Cottage in Mystic. Now, our little cottage had its drawback, chief among them the strange smell of shit that seemed to come and go. (We started calling it the Ghost of Christmas Shits Past.) There was also the very sweet innkeeper who was a little too detail oriented — we got a rundown of just about every restaurant in town, along with a the world’s most thorough intro to the hot tub (we saw every color light that thing had to offer). But it was close to town, it housed a lot of people, and it was available despite the fact that the Taste of Mystic was going on.
Soon the rest of the party joined us and we headed for dinner at the S&P Oyster House. It’s got beautiful views of the water, and ever the cool drawbridge. Three of us got the lobster tacos which were good, but not filling enough for a night of hard drinking — so I also got a bread pudding. Mmmmmmmm… breeead puuudiiiiing. Dr. Gold drew a penis on the table and the I had the honor of crowing our little Asian, marking her for the rest of the evening as the poor sap whose sex life is about to go downhill…fast.
(On a more important note, I found a new drink that I love. It’s like the Pimm’s Cup but easier to make. The Foghorn has Hendrick’s gin, ginger ale, and lime juice.)
We gave ourselves some time to digest while wandering through the Taste of Mystic before heading over to the Harp & Hound (which you may remember from such CuT adventures as “I Know What You Did This Summer: Anti-Couric“)
We met a number of interesting people including a guy who claimed to be a priest who wanted the AP to have 15 kids, and then claimed to be a VooDoo-ist, and a sailor missing a couple front teeth who was hammered — as you would expect a guy missing his two front teeth to be.
This time, instead of finding a couple of twins to flirt with, I found us some Brits. We’d taken up residence in a big corner booth when a gaggle of ganders came in. They looked very British, and like they were probably sick of looking at each other so I grabbed the AP and headed for the bar. As I bellied us up to the bar, excusing us as we pushed our way in, I noticed one of them was wearing the big, shiny, plastic heart earring we’d forced on the AP earlier. Clearly she’d lost her cheap jewelery and this was my chance.
“Hey, you’re wearing our earring!” I said, pointing at the Brit… and the rest is history!
Before they knew it, the Brits had penis-shaped straws in their beers, and I was insisting one of them looked like House (Hugh Laurie). After I’d wormed my way into their hearts, I made my intentions clear — I wanted to get as many guys as possible to buy our engaged friend drinks. They obliged and before we knew it, she was flat out D R U N K.
We discovered this mostly on the walk home when she asked us to “slow down, I don’t feel so good.” Walking through the largely empty streets of Mystic we saw one of our British friends (who had developed a crush on the Maid of Honor running through the streets. His friends followed slowly behind, insisting that he was going in the right direction so it was fine.
Once our Brits had gone to the Hilton, and we’d made our way back to the cottage, the MoH help the Asian’s hair as she threw up in something that looked like a treatment plant of some sort, and then in the neighboring cottage’s yard. I pretty much fell fast asleep next to poor Dr. Gold, who was woken up several time during the night to sounds of me hurling violently in the bathroom.
And that, my Nutmeg friends, is how you do a proper “hen do” in Connecticut.