Somewhere In Cologne, September 2008. Choosing the location for my stag weekend was not a decision I took lightly. My dream had always been Las Vegas, but when push came to shove it proved a financial commitment too great for most of my chosen ones. I then flirted with the idea of Pamplona, but for me it absolutely had to be during the running of the bulls and this time availability was the issue. In the end I made a practical decision that worked out well for everyone. I was living in Brussels at the time, so the German city of Cologne was just a two-hour train-ride away, also perfect for my fellow Brussels-dwellers Chris and Erik. For my soon to be brother-in-law meanwhile, it was a similarly stress-free trip up from Amsterdam, while my good friends Steve, Steve and Ad grabbed an inexpensive, speedy flight over from London. Only Jon, the trooper that he was, had to fly halfway across the world from Nashville, Tennessee. But then he was the best man and sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. This photo, taken late on during the first night’s festivities, is a special one in that it’s always had something of a Reservoir Dogs feel. I will refrain from suggesting who Mr. Pink is.