The shame, the debauchery, the memories...

I am one hugely important step closer to getting married.

One bachelorette party (to be followed by at least one more) is under my belt, and what a party it was!

Friends from all over flew down, and groups of friends and family from all different stages of my life blended in Key West, the drinking capital of the southeast. I don't know if it was all the beer or the embarrassing games my maid of horror (I mean, honor) made us play, but my buds seemed to bond instantly, despite their only link being me.

I tried to imagine who would hit it off before we even set off for the Keys, and the combinations were endless. Personalities ranged abundantly, and included:

• The single party girls in their early-30s, who still throw down better than any college student I've ever known, and are totally up for anything
• The married and engaged family members, who, despite having settled into monogamy and having toned down their partying significantly, have an obvious wild streak that rears its crazy head each time the occassion calls
• The local friend, who doesn't know anyone, but makes friends easily and goes with the flow
• The reformed party girls, who, when they knew each other well, would go nuts every night, but now lead sensible lives and can drink without puke-n-rally (puking, then resuming the party, for those who didn't follow that)

And then there's me -- a combination of all of these personalities, and many more, rolled into one neutral friend, who identifies with everyone.

The pairings suprised me.

• One family member and one 30-something bonded over their love of Dane Cook and *ahem* substances
• Two former friends reunited, and spent the majority of the trip bouncing off each other
• Another reformed partier joined a 30-something, a family member and a new-comer wherever the party took them

The truly amazing thing, however, was the way everyone managed to stay together. We ventured to one drag show, a sunset street party, five bars and one clothing-optional rooftop club throughout the course of one night. We began the night together, and we ended it the same way.

Four days later, I am sitting here reflecting on my favorite moments from the trip. My e-mail inbox is flooded with funny one-liners from one former stranger to another, reminders of the fun we all had during our brief, and probably only, encounter as a group.

Chances are, we'll never have that again. There won't be another opportunity for the nine of us to say "we're all together."

In just two days, we learned each others' secrets, quirks and personalities. We heard stories we could have lived a lifetime without hearing (or telling, Mara), made comments we would never make to strangers and did and saw things that need not be published.

It only took one weekend -- 48 hours -- to freeze ourselves in each others' minds forever.

It must have been the booze.