STAG PARTY. Hen party. Bachelor/-ette party. Known throughout the world by various names, these time-honored gatherings are part celebration, part hazing ceremony whose spiritual roots lie in the medieval practice of publicly humiliating petty criminals. Extreme intoxication is an integral part of such events, and in the case of the bachelor or bachelorette, enforced intoxication is required to create the proper atmosphere in which to recount past dalliances and subsequent courses of penicillin, and to lament the death of bachelor-/spinsterhood while fondly anticipating the impending nuptials. It was for just such an event that the best man and brother of the groom, Todd, honored my brother and me with the duty of creating the Ultimate Bachelor Party Bar (UBPB).

Assembling a bar is an art in and of itself. First and foremost, know your audience. Second, understand the occasion. A bar must be tailored to the tastes of the people who will consume it and must serve primarily to enhance the atmosphere in which it is consumed. Of course, bachelor parties are not times for savoring or pondering the merits of a given spirit; they are times for getting completely shit-faced. A wide selection of utility liquors suitable for both shots and mixing is crucial. Premium liquor is favored, if possible, but there's little reason to spend $75 on a bottle of scotch that may be mixed with soda or indiscreetly regurgitated into a bush outside a gentlemen's club.

With these guidelines in mind, my brother, Mike, and I made our way to the BevMo on Geary Boulevard at Stanyan before making the drive to "fabulous Lake Tahoe" for the party. The haul, light to dark: Ketel One vodka (favorite of best man), Herradura Añejo (favorite of bachelor), Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum (good mixing rum), Jack Daniels (rotgut), Old Pulteney single malt scotch (sounds like a gastrointestinal ailment, e.g., "Aye, I had a touch of the Ol' Pulteney ... "), Jägermeister (bachelor's least favorite), assorted mixers (tonic, soda, etc.), lemons, limes, garlic-stuffed olives, a cocktail spoon, sleeves of 16-ounce plastic cups for "road sodas" (portable potables). In addition, we augmented the UBPB items with the following from the Markovich home bar: Bombay Sapphire gin, Bacardi 151 (fire), a 12-pack of Tecate, a six-pack of Lagunitas IPA, the Savoy Cocktail Book (originally published in 1930, the updated manual contains recipes for more than 750 classic cocktails), the Chap Manifesto: Revolutionary Etiquette for the Modern Gentleman, Sting Ray Bloody Mary Mix, horseradish, Worcestershire, celery, the all-important "soft cooler" (a thermal-lined, collapsible, square-shape canvas bag for total mobility), and a maroon felt fez.

The critical piece of the UBPB turned out to be the Bloody Mary mix. It's a bit tough to find yourself humping the blackjack tables at 4 a.m. on Friday night/Saturday morning, only to realize you have to get back up and do it all over again because the "real party" is Saturday night. However, the restorative powers of a properly mixed Bloody Mary are legion. Many premade mixes on the market are largely unreliable. A well-mixed Bloody Mary should be thick enough that the requisite celery stalk is made to stand at attention in the middle of the glass. A good Bloody is essentially half meal, half cocktail – a kind of a vodka-infused gazpacho. If not making it from scratch, I favor Uncle Dougie's Torpedo Juice, but I had a bottle of Sting Ray Bloody Mary Mix at home, which did the trick without any reformulating. Its rich tomato base, with clam juice, fresh-grated horseradish, and additional seasonings, lent it a satisfying, smoky aftertaste. As important as the proper mix is decent vodka. Bloodies mixed with cheap vodka have an alkaline bite. Kept in the freezer until used, the viscous Ketel One was crisp beneath the mix, evening out the flavor and tempering the spiciness of the horseradish to allow for a rare, smooth finish that had me craving a white cheddar and tomato grilled-cheese sandwich browned in olive oil.

We gathered for dinner at Llewellyn's, a formal restaurant perched atop Harvey's Hotel and Casino. A prix fixe menu had been arranged, and as everyone opted for the filet mignon, we shared bottles of the 1998 Silverado cabernet sauvignon. The black-pepper notes of cabernet and the hints of bay leaf and clove beneath a full-bodied plum flavor perfectly complemented the filet. A round of espresso fended off our impending food coma, and we repaired to Todd's room, where the UBPB awaited. Bachelor Mark was repeatedly flogged with Jägermeister swilled straight from the bottle, while Eddie Vegas, the man who eventually remunerated us for the entire cost of the UBPB with a fraction of his prodigious winnings, paid attention to the bottle of Jack. It was a long evening of mayhem and ribaldry; chips were changed to hard currency, and a succession of nightcaps turned into daycaps.