Groom to be has trouble remembering parts of stag night

TSAWWASSEN and VANCOUVER, BC, August 18, 2007. Groom to be Greg "Steve" Cunningham has foggy memories of Saturday night festivities at The Keg Caesars and part of the night at Brandis Show Lounge are "a complete blackout". The atrocities began about 20 kilometres away and five hours earlier, in Twawwassen at a local paintball field, where about 18 grown men dressed up as greasy mechanics, complete with fake name patches, and pelted each other for four hours with gel-filled paintballs. In one of the games, "Steve" and his best man "Gilbert" were given a 5-second head start, after which all the other players summarily swarmed the two unfortunate runners with a barrage of paintballs, leaving little of their backs un-bruised. "Mendozaaaa!" was the cry that could be heard through the trees, as Mendoza, playing for team Blue gunned down the last of team Red in game one. The games began with deliberate, careful shooting, and ended with the constant percussive sound of machine-gun fire as the 4,000 odd paintballs were consumed.
Later at The Keg, the players showed off their welts (real and imaginary) and the drinking commenced. "Which wines come in Keg Size?" whispered Greg to the sommelier, whose face showed just a hint of a sneer, like the face of a waiter in a fine steak restaurant after a patron asks for steak sauce. "Never mind," continued Greg. "I'll just have whatever will give me a buzz the fastest." The sommelier snorted and walked off in a huff, returning with shooter after shooter of Jagermeister, B-52, tequila, and some nasty shit that looked horrible.
The crowd eventually made their way up to Brandi's, but not before going through the security theatre production at the foot of the elevator. Two surly, bossy bouncers checked ID, yelling things like "take it OUT of your wallet!", and passed a fake metal detector over everyone before granting them the ultimate honour of being allowed in the elevator. At the top of the elevator, more security theatre, as IDs were swiped, photos taken, and more surly bouncers gave mean glares at everybody. "No pictures," growled one of them to our photographer.
Greg was not shy, accepting graciously the invitations of well sculpted blondes to join them for a "dance", while the other party goers watched scantily clad ladies remove their clothes in a viewing circle. The shooters continued, and later in the evening, Greg was heard shouting deleriously "Global warming is real, and it is man-made." Greg does not remember much after that, other than "puking when I got home."
Greg's bride to be also had a party, a stagette, but no details were released.

P.F.