Hansen: As if the party wasn’t strange enough

There are some stories that need to be told — however embarrassing. This is one of them.

The reason we tell these inexplicable stories is that, let’s face it, they are funny.

To justify our misfortune, we like to think that the story can benefit someone. Somehow in the retelling, perhaps another person can learn a mysterious life lesson.

But that’s probably not the case here.

And because it’s a story, I will not lead with the punch line, so sit back and envision this very true tale for a few minutes.

It starts with a man named Lee.

Right away you should portend there will be trouble. Guys named Lee wear trouble like armor.

Lee Marvin … baddest dude ever.

Bruce Lee (he’s Chinese American so you say his name backward) … baddest dude ever.

So Lee is my friend who invited me to a bachelor party — without a bachelor.

Yes, that’s right, the bachelor could not make it for some unknown reason that never became clear.

I should have known right there that something was amiss, but there are no real red flags in life. That’s a myth.

The plan was to take lots of photos for the bachelor, who would later be Photoshopped into the festivities.

Convenient for the occasion, the group dined and entertained in that area of Corona del Mar where the establishments are within walking distance.

Now here comes a couple of quick logistical details that will become important later. I had parked my car at Lee’s house in Costa Mesa and accidentally left my cell phone there, which would prove very problematic.

The evening progressed as expected but late into the night, Lee disappeared. I assumed he got tired and decided to take a taxi home, so I took his lead.

But the taxi did not take me to Lee’s house. Even though I had given the driver Lee’s address, as the taxi drove away I realized that I was actually in an industrial area somewhere in west Costa Mesa on the opposite side of town.

I stood there dumbstruck with no cell phone, grappling with the ramifications.

And so I walked, thinking I could eventually flag down another taxi.

That did not happen.

All that happened was I went deeper into nowhere.

More than an hour later, I was getting tired. It was probably 2 or 3 in the morning by then. My feet were starting to blister. I was wearing dress shoes, overpriced faded jeans and a fancy poly-blend shirt that stretched like rubber.

The shirt made me sweat.

When I finally hit the Santa Ana River on the border of Huntington Beach, it was clear I was lost and heading in the wrong direction.

Demoralized, I slumped on a guard rail.

And then I noticed the boat.

It was one of those ratty, dry-docked boats you see in the corner of large parking lots.

I decided I was done. I could not walk all night, so I climbed aboard the boat, covered myself with a couple skanky life vests and curled up on the bow like a homeless waterman.

I had to.

I woke up shivering at dawn under a healthy layer of dew.

The light did not really help me find my way. It still took several hours for me to finally get back to Lee’s house.

I was dehydrated and limping badly when I got there. When I took off my shoes, I saw a purple right toe.

Yes, as I said, there are no red flags, only purple ones.

I am still wrestling with the lessons of last weekend because, quite frankly, I think most of the time things just happen randomly. But I have to admit a couple of things are now clear to me.

Cell phones were created for a reason.

Respect the armor of men named Lee.

Listen to those TV commercials that say things like, “When you go to a bachelor-less bachelor party without your cell phone, you will end up at an industrial park sleeping in the bow of a boat.”

DAVID HANSEN is a writer and Laguna Beach resident. He can be reached at [email protected].