According to the Sky Mall catalogue on my flight home, all dads are clean-shaven business men that love playing golf and think they’re #1.
That wasn’t my experience this past weekend. Sure, my frat brothers have aged a decade or two, but they haven’t lost a step. Evidence A:
Guys who arrived early made a Costco run, and filled a big hospitality suite available to us all weekend with so much booze and snacks that it was the ultimate pre-game spot.
It doesn’t get much bro-ier than a game of thumper in our cabana – which had waitress service and a daily $1000 minimum on drinks and food.
The smell of bong water always takes me back to the TEΦ house. Nowadays, these east coast boys had their first experience with legalized marijuana, and made Costco-esque runs to dispensaries. Overconsumption of edibles led to some wicked wall-hitting.
Tasting dinner at Tao. Wrangling 37 brothers for a fancy, organized weekend is no easy feat, so the next big reunion won’t be until October, 2021. I don’t even know what I’m doing tonight, but I know exactly where I’ll be in three years.
