The inherent folly of the Bachelor Party is that no man can honestly want to settle down after a weekend Shangri-la of buddies, strippers, booze, and other, better-looking strippers. Let the chaos of Eastern Europe convince the pre-groom that staid married life has its upsides with Crazy Stag of Krakow. While the enterprising Poles behind Stag offer a la carte Western prenuptial traditions (quad racing, paintball, BBQ), where they excel is in strong-armed, Communist fun. Among your Bloc-y options:
Spend an afternoon writing another chapter in the epic struggle of Man vs. Landscape as you blast Kalashnikovs, Glocks, Makarovs, and Uzis into Poland's surprisingly verdant countryside
Down shots at a bootleg vodka distillery until the concrete floor runs green with vomit
Have the groom kidnapped by masked goons, who will nab and bind the proto-hubby, dump him into the trunk of a rusty Tatra, and then speed him off to temporarily rot in a barren, concrete, Soviet-style apartment -- casting the comfortable confines of "domestic bliss" into buzzing fluorescent-lit relief
As ever, the gap between communist poverty and capitalist horniness is bridged by a love affair with strippers, which CS also provides in abundance. And this being Poland, many of these lovelies will likely become mail-order brides -- prompting future Crazy bachelor parties for other obese American misfits, and renewing the whole beautiful cycle.