“For crying out loud, it’s 2021! Why would people do this?!” Drew was my best friend and, rightfully so, the best man in my upcoming wedding. He planned this bachelor party the traditional way. Vegas style. Not the hangover Vegas style with roofies, alcohol, tigers and babies, but the gambling and good times type of fling. Drew had been my best friend since we were 7. His parents moved to the neighborhood and the rest was history. We had been through all of our life stages together and this was no exception. Drews bright purple blazer with his white button down shirt that was only halfway buttoned made him standout from the crowd. His fitted jeans were brand new and bought specifically for this night. He had nice brown loafers that were shined and ready for whatever the night would bring. You could even smell him from across the room with how much cologne he sprayed. Drew’s mouth was bigger than his brain and often times he ate his foot. He was single for this excursion and for the 3rd time this year, so he took this bachelor thing seriously. Drew might seem like your typical douchey friend, but he means well. He planned all the details of the trip by himself down to the party favors. All 8 of us were partnered up in case we were separated and we had “meeting places” for emergencies. I partially blame my soon to be wife for this because she swore if anything happened to me, she would “…murder him with a steak knife.” I believed her. Everything had started out great. We flew in early, got settled in the hotel, showered and headed down to the lobby to start the festivities. Boy we’re we shocked when we stepped off the elevator. Every single person was dressed in chicken costumes. It was the annual Cluck Convention on the Strip. How could we miss this major detail when planning this perfect weekend?