The bachelor party we threw for my friend Jack was a weekend-long rafting/camping trip. I know that sounds like the classy alternative to going out to strip clubs and getting trashed "one last time," but the intention was to bring strippers and booze with us on the trip. It just didn't work out that way.

This is the story of that weekend, or at least the parts that are worth retelling:

Part one: The Night Before

I finish work on Thursday and go to my parents' house to do some last minute laundry and pick up their clippers so I can give myself a 'warrior beard.' I had suggested to everyone going on the trip that we grow beards and cut them into weird shapes like barbarians so we could, "conquer the river." I later found out that I was the only one who did this. The rest tried, and Harrison came close, but I was the only one with thick growth and some kind of shape shaved out of it. Think Wolverine with a mustache.

I start my laundry and go to Costco, taking note to pick up some mineral water for my parents. I grab a cart and walk in. Within 38 seconds of me being inside, I'm talking to Charles behind the photo counter. "What's up with the beard?" I tell him about the camping/rafting trip and my idea for the beard that would intimidate Atilla. He thinks it's awesome and asks if I'm doing anything after I'm done packing since he doesn't work till late the next day. I can't even get through a response before a customer starts asking more questions than they need answers for, so I decided to start shopping and come back later. I pick up the mineral water and a case of Red Bull for the weekend, which were the only two reasons I was there to begin with. Rolling by the beer section, I notice they have Anchor Steam for cheap, so I grab a case of that too. With all of my shopping done, I head back over to the photo counter. Charles was busy doing something close to nothing, no different than the day before. He looks in the cart and asks just what kind of camping trip I was going on. We make plans to drink the beers in the cart and watch Wizard People.

I go back to my parents' house, finish my laundry, eat dinner, go home, pack, blah, blah, blah.

Charles calls when he's home from work and I go get him. His plan is to drink a bunch and have his girlfriend come pick him up. At home, we start drinking beers and playing Guitar Hero. After a few rounds we start Wizard People, and Charles is amazed. We keep drinking an laughing. Mal comes over, and we keep drinking an laughing. Mal is anti Harry Potter since he worked at a bookstore for a few of the book releases and a movie theater for a few of the movies, so he hates the series on principle alone. But he f-in' loved Wizard People.

We keep drinking, and Charles wants me to shave my chin for my super-beard so he can see before they leave. He wants to take before and after shots, which I was going to do anyway. His girlfriend shows up, and he voices the urgency of the situation while distracting her with Guitar Hero. I shave, he takes some pictures, then out of nowhere he wants pictures of him in impersonistic poses. He's got Van Damme and Captain Hook down pretty well. The funniest look on Charles' face (not captured with a camera) was when I answered his question, "When are you leaving tomorrow?" with "right after work." The realization that he had kept me up drinking until 1am and I had to be in Watsonville at 7:30 was priceless.

Part two: The Drive

I take everything I need for the trip to work on Friday, so I can take 129 to 101 from Watsonville. I spend most of the day half hungover and trying to make sure no one notices that I was doing no real work. Everyone except B-Wiggle laughs at my beard, and I don't care. That's really what I grew it for, to look ridiculous.

3:40 rolls around and I take off. I start driving, and continue to drive, and drive, and drive. I start wishing I was Superman so I could fly, eventhough Batman is the far superior character, but I wouldn't want that troubled youth, but I don't really want to act like a pansy in front of the girl I'm crushing on either, and so on until I come to the conclusion that I really wish I was the Clock King in that episode of Batman: The Animated Series where he could control time for specific things, including himself and the rest of the world. I would have totoally frozen the world and sped past everyone at breakneck speeds, and it wouldn't have even mattered that I got lost in BFE.

I drive through Sacramento about 7:30 and think I'm making good time. I also think that I'm almost there, and I am wrong. I continue north up to Auburn where I am supposed to turn inland. I know it's not far from Auburn so I think I am almost there, and I am wrong. I drive over the tallest bridge in California and enjoy the view. I am told later that Vin Diesel drove a car off that bridge in XXX, and I make a mental note to watch that move regardless of how crappy it is. I am told this bit of trivia enough times over the course of the next few days that I now hate every movie that has explosions... except Star Wars.

The road I'm on seems to never end, and the road I'm looking for seems to not exist. At this point it's dark, I'm alone in the middle of nowhere, and my cell phone doesn't work. If I've learned anything from Hollywood, it's that I do not want to be in this situation under any circumstance. I finally find the road I'm looking for and turn. This road is even less populated-looking, super curvy, and it stops at a 4-way intersection that is not mentioned on my directions, and the sign doesn't mention where I'm going. I muster up all my puzzle solving skills learned from video games, and decide to start with the left most choice and work my way around. The logic is terrible, but how long could I sit an ponder this before someone took an ax to my windshield? My plan works, left is correct, and 10 miles later, I find a heavily populated campsite. I was under the impression that Harrison would be the only one there, provided he could find it too. I drive very slowly (creepy) by all the campsites looking for Harrison's truck, and many of the campers give me stinkeye for it. I find his truck, park, get out, and it's effin' dark, and I can't see s-. Then Harrison's voice comes from somewhere, "I am so sorry." The rest of the cars show up a few hours later with similar stories to my own. Shaft even drove on unpaved roads for a while before realizing he was in the wrong place. We all drown our frustrations in beer, and the night ends well for everyone.

Part three: The Chute

Saturday morning, we wake up way earlier than we want to, since we had stayed up drinking the night before, and we didn't start drinking until everyone got there. We pack up and drive out of the BFE campsite, and I'm glad Harrison takes the lead, because I would never be able to find my way out of there. We drive to some parking lot behind some lumber warehouse, and there's buses and injury waivers waiting for us there. We park and start getting "river ready," as they call it. We fill out some paperwork and crack some beers, not to be outdone by another bachelor party which has already done so. We get on the bus and head to the put-in spot. On the ride down, someone pipes up and asks what to do if the guide falls out. They dude at the front answers, "We just don't fall out, because if we do, we have to buy the rest of the guides beer." This statement, though comical in nature, is a bit reassuring.

After an orientation speech about how not to die, we carry the boats down to the river and start the adventure. Now, to be fair, they must deal with idiots all day, every day, because the things they told us about basic survival on the river were the simplest of skills anyone would possess if they ever managed to leave their dwelling. It pretty much came down to, "Do what we say, when we say it, and you won't get hurt." If I'm not already an expert in some unsafe activity, and an expert is within 10 feet telling me what to do, I'm gonna do it.

Once on the river, we ask our guide, Joe, if anyone actually defies the survival expert's advice. He tells us about one of his worst days on the river. He had a high-school wrestling team and the coaches. The first thing through my head is that a team of any sort should be able to take direction and work together. We had the Long Beach rowing crew with us, and they were owning the river from the start. It was obvious that some others in the boat thought the same, until Joe explained that wrestling is not a team sport. Furthermore, the sport is filled with super-independent fearless meatheads. He tells us that on the first rapid, they were all out of sync, paddling when they weren't supposed to, etc. Once that rapid was done, he gave them a small pep speech about staying in rhythm together and executing his commands when he gave them. The coach, the effin' coach, turned and looked at him and said, "I know when to paddle." We guarantee him that we won't pull anything like that. Joe was actually really cool, and like Harry P, a badass.

A few miles down the river, all the boats pull over, everyone gets out, and Joe makes another speech (he had made the initial speech about how not to die). He gives us the lowdown on the next rapid, known as Tunnel Chute. Back in the day, there was a f-ton of prospectors looking for gold in the American River. The middle fork used to go around part of a mountain, but the prospectors blasted a hole through the mountain to divert the river, so they could mine out the area around the mountain where the river used to be. There plan worked out well too. They pulled 1.2 million dollars worth of gold out of the dried up section... maybe it was billion, it was tough to hear. Anyway, now there's a kick-ass rapid that ends in the tunnel. He tells us that we'll have to work hard to set-up the way our guide wants us, then we'll all sit down and enjoy the ride. On the other side of the tunnel, all the boats gather to make sure everyone is alright. One of the guides admits that he swam , and Joe puts both fists in the air and yells triumphantly, "BEEEEEEEER!"

Part four: The Wrap

The rest of Saturday was pretty uneventful. A lot of calm water, then one large section of constant attention and intensity. We all like this part since we really have our heads in the game, and we're not scared anymore. Everything just clicked, and we really enjoyed it. Joe tells us that Sunday's trip is like that all day. We are excited.

We finish rafting, go back to camp, and are amazed by how content we are with the trip. We agree that we were happy enough with what we had, and that we could go home. But we've already paid, and we should really see this one through. We drink beer that Jack made and all pass out early, such pansies.

We wake up, pack, and get on a bus headed for the north fork. Joe tells us that we'll split four and four today. Smaller boats, more maneuverability, and the Long Beach Rowing Crew can paddle together one last time. So our boat is me, Harrison, Albert, and Cray. The other is Jack and three rowing buddies. I pause to wonder which boat will have a smoother, hassle-free day, then I realize the answer is in front of me as they paddle away. I am not afraid, as our guide, Kelly, appears to have no anxiety about her first commercial trip down the river.

As promised, the river is all long sections of intense rapids that require focus and aggressive paddling, and we're having a blast. The company owner is guiding the lead boat, and it quickly becomes clear that he is annoyed with the family he is taking down the river. He makes sure to yell strategies at Kelly before each section of rapids, and it becomes clear that Kelly would rather deal with the river in the moment than listen to him ruin the surprise. I like this attitude and stop listening to him too. Before one of the sections, I hear him yell something about a "big rock" and a "hard left," but Kelly had yet to fail us, and our four-man crew seems to be holding our own pretty well.

Something that was explained to us in Part three, but I did not relay, is what the result of boat vs. rock on the river. If a boat hits a rock sideways, the water pushing on the upstream side will make the downstream side slide up the rock, thus putting the bottom of the boat against the rock. Water then fills the boat and continues to push it against the rock, causing it to wrap around the rock, and it is a pain in the effing A to get the boat back. The second best method of preventing this (the first being to not hit the rock at all) is to move all available bodies to the rock-side of the boat, so that it will not slide up the rock and eventually work itself around one side or another. This is commonly referred to as "high side."

I bet you can guess what happened to us. We don't hit the big rock mentioned above, but we hit the smaller one next to it. Kelly yells, "high side!" and I jump across the boat, but I only make it as far as Cray, who has fallen into the center for safety. I push him to the edge of the boat, and all five of us are as far over as we can be without falling off. It's too late, and the boat begins to fill with water. We have wrapped on this rock, we are all still on the boat, and we all look to Kelly to see what to do about it. She tells us to climb onto the bigger rock, one at a time. I'm the closest, so I get up and scale the rock. As soon as I'm up, the boat starts moving, and all I hear is, "be ready to jump back in here!" The boat settles again, and I get ready to catch some paddles and help people up. The owner appears on the shore and starts yelling about how we're going to get out of this. The plan is to jump in the water, one at a time, and swim the next rapid, then swim right to the calm water. There's a big-ass rock to the right, so we don't really know what we're getting into until we swim it. The other three go, then I climb down the rock, into the water and swim the rapid. This rapid was nothing worse than being in the ocean, except the water moved quickly. I clear the rock on the right and start swimming. From the moment I see how far I have to go, I am confident that I will make it, and I do.

I stand up on solid ground, and it's high-fives all around. The four of us are stoked about how cool that was and are telling stories about what each of us were doing, and how we got into that situation to begin with, and how rad it was to swim a rapid, etc. One of my favorite topics of conversation was about how pissed and annoyed all the other boats were because they had to wait around for a half hour while we were involved in an evacuation mission and loving it. Other guides help free the boat, and Kelly paddles it over to us. Withing 50 feet is another set of rapids, and though we are timid from our most recent experience, we nail 'em solid. We refer to them as The Confidence Booster Rapids, and we are warriors once again.

The rest of the day is pretty relaxing until Joe provokes the rowing crew into a race with us. Obviously they win, but not by much, and both Joe and Kelly laugh when we explain to them that their boat spent all of college working out and rowing, while our boat spent all of college drinking. Cray and I reveled in the fact that we would own them if we were doing drugs and talking about music.