You're throwing it wrong.
The only thing standing between your event and a night people actually remember is fifty mullets and the nerve to open the bag at the right second. The whole method is shorter than the seating chart.
Buy too many.
Whatever number feels right, it's low. The person who swears they won't wear one wears two by midnight.
Hide the bag.
A surprise announced is a surprise wasted. The bag waits in a closet, a trunk, behind the DJ. Nobody knows.
Go first.
You wear the first one. Not the coolest person in the room. You. Courage is the cover charge.
Hold it open. Do not hand them out.
People argue with a wig they were handed. People defend a wig they pulled out of a bag with their own hand.
Get out of the way.
You pick the number. We pick the mullets. That is the Surprise Mix, and the bag does the rest.
When to open the bag
The moment dinner ends and the dance floor is suspiciously empty. The bride's father goes first. Warn the photographer, not the guests.
Theme night, after dinner, before the energy dips. Counselors first, campers follow. One bag lasts five theme nights if you run a tight closet.
After the last agenda item, before the open bar gets quiet. The most senior person in the room goes first. That part is not optional.
Hour two. Early enough for photos, late enough that nobody's precious about their hair anymore.
Want the whole night planned for you? Game Night has eight ways to run it.