By Sean Cronin
Intense sunshine and parched, high-elevation air have all combined to sabotage your buddy’s epic bachelor party bacchanalia in Lake Tahoe. By the time everyone arrives after battling long plane flights and Bay Area traffic, you’re starving. Luckily, just over the California border in Stateline, Nev., The Lucky Beaver Bar and Grill serves up a great selection of beers and the best burgers in town 24/7. It’s been far too long since you’ve all been together in the same place, so despite your fishing charter with Tahoe Sport Fishing Co. early in the morning, the IPAs keep flowing. Inevitably, shots are ordered ensuring someone in your group is destined to lean overboard and chum the waters with a regurgitated Gambler Burger. The alarm goes off shortly after sunrise, having gone to bed not long before. The weather is forecast to be perfectly sunny, but you’re still a bit foggy so you grab a beer, thinking the old “hair of the dog” approach is going to help your cause.
Five hours of fishing in the sun at a two beer per hour pace, having left your sunscreen in your carry-on, you’re in desperate need of a nap. Your friends have a different plan. Pulling into the dock at Zephyr Cove Beach, the single guys in your group spy a gaggle of beautiful local females playing volleyball. They quickly devise an ill-formed plan to impress them with their waning athletic prowess on the adjacent court. Having not set, served, or spiked a volleyball in over a decade, you reluctantly agree to their antics. More sun, more beers, and time passes. As the sun passes its apex in the sky and everyone’s thoughts start turning to food, you all Uber to your Airbnb in the Tahoe Keys to sh*t, shower, and shave. Easing into the evening’s festivities, you all head to The Coachman, a newly renovated boutique hotel just a few blocks behind the Stateline casinos. It’s the perfect place to chill for a bit and have a coffee, some wine, or a beer. You all agree this place is pretty dope, with its relaxed atmosphere and quiet outdoor fire pits. But this is a celebration of your buddy’s commitment to one woman for the rest of his life. It’s time to turn the dial up a bit.
Since you’re all grown-ups with real jobs, you beat feet to Friday’s Station Steakhouse on the 18th floor of Harrah’s. Towering floor-to-ceiling windows provide a spectacular view of the pink and purple hued sunset and a bird’s eye view of the 2nd deepest lake in the U.S. from which you reeled in that trophy Mackinaw Trout waiting to be grilled at the farewell dinner on Sunday. The talented mixologists whip up tasty libations like the peach flavored Royal Flush and decadent Cappuccino Martini. The steaks are cooked to tender perfection. You’d have shanked someone had they tried to come between you and your first-course onion soup. Yeah, it’s that good. The bill is presented and you throw your card in the hat hoping the bachelor doesn’t snag it during credit card roulette. Everyone’s anxious to keep the party going so you knock back the remaining Silver Oak Cab in your glass, dumping more sugar and sulfites into your bloodstream.
With full, distended stomachs, the crew crams into the elevator and jumps in the VIP line at Peek Nightclub, Northern Nevada’s hottest spot with gorgeous go-go dancers and rockin’ DJs. A few straggle behind to take a chance on the pass line at the craps table. You opt for a Red Bull and vodka and scope the scene inside the club. The DJ is killing it, the place is maxed to capacity, and everyone is having a blast. The last time you drank a glass of water was literally 32 hours ago. Since then, you’ve had about 3 cups of coffee, 14 beers, and half a dozen other random alcoholic, dehydrating beverages. It’s quickly 3am, half of your friends are unaccounted for, and you’re beyond hammered. Congratulations!! It’s a bachelor party after all and that should be one of your main priorities.
A ray of sunshine pierces the window of the vacation rental and shines directly onto your crusted eyelids. You peel your eyes open and take your bearings, hardly knowing where you are or how you got there. A few half-clothed friends are fumbling through the kitchen. Doritos and warm PBR are no way to start your day. Barely awake, you find yourself crammed in a car en route to The Getaway Cafe in Meyers, Calif., just a few miles outside the South Lake Tahoe city limits. Someone got word of their homemade Coconut French Toast and Chorizo Hangover Helper.
Breakfast helped, but let’s face it, the best cure for a gnarly hangover is being under 30. Now in your mid 30s, every bachelor party weekend seems to hurt just a bit more than the one before. The fitness junky in your group reminds you about drunkenly committing to a hike up Mount Tallac. At 9,735 feet, it’s arguably the grandest view you can achieve of Lake Tahoe. You propose the more leisurely, but equally scenic gondola at Heavenly Mountain Resort instead, but his tiny CrossFit brain is having none of it. Luckily, someone had the foresight to schedule a concierge IV hangover treatment with H2uP. Time and coffee isn’t going to get your butt up that mountain. It’s going to require some medical intervention. You rally back to the house and half an hour later a team of incredible IV ninja nurses shows up. You plop down on the leather couch, throw on the latest Louis C.K. stand-up routine, and slowly come back to life as your veins suck up a variety of IV fluids, electrolytes, vitamins, and anti-nausea medications. You’d think you died and went to Heaven. Well, despite some close calls and questionable decision making, you’ve survived yet another bachelor party. Ahhhhhh, Tahoe.