Soodhalter’s Informagoriam

An Amazing Wedding With Fashionable Eyeglasses

I have been busy studying for and taking exams, but my brain could only take so much algebra in one sitting. So I took various breaks and spent time catching up on recapping the events of this summer. This installment will describe to you in horrifyingly exquisite detail the events surrounding the marriage of my cousin Zaid to Denise, a girl he met somewhere. Actually, she should be described as a lady. She is really cool, and I am glad to add her to my pantheon of cousins.

I arrived in Houston on July 2. The air was already thick with anticipation. I arrived in the late evening, so we went straight home for sleep. There was plenty of family business packed into the run up to the wedding. This was not small business, either. It was the merger of two large, multinational corporations, Zaid-Tec and Allied Denise Inc. They had been in merger talks for a while, and there had been rampant speculation on the internet (originating from me mostly) as to the particulars of this momentous occasion. Eventually, invitations arrived and the day of reckoning rapidly approached.

On July 3, I had only two missions in my life. First, I needed to study for my exams. Second, I needed to make sure I had a complete outfit. Never in my life have I consciously or willingly put an outfit together for anything. However, this event was of such huge import that I set aside the no outfit policy. One month prior, I had purchased a suit and left it to be altered by a local tailor. It now perfectly conforms to all of my delicate curves. After deciding on the best color shirt and tie, I left the house on a quest to find these things. I visited all the major clothing retailers in the area (Steinmart, Kohls, J.C. Penney, Montgomery Ward, Woolworths, Sears, K-Mart, Walmart, Target, Palais Royal, etc) before finally settling on a shirt at Macy’s. I purchased the shirt from a matronly woman named Rhonda who was pressuring me to sign up for a Macy’s credit card. I borrowed a tie from my father.

Since I had studied all morning, by the time I had acquired the shirt, it was time to go home and cook dinner. Mother was slated to head out to the boonies to attend one of those engagement shower parties with high levels of lady-business occurring. I would be hanging out with my father. Dinner was low key, and we watched a Lifetime made-for-TV movie about a woman who is victimized by all the men in her life until some other women help her and then everything turns out okay except that men are evil.

On July 4, I was suddenly informed that I would be attending an evening of tasty desserts and Iraqi tea at my Aunt and Uncle’s house. This would be in celebration of the actual wedding ceremony, which had taken place earlier in the day in a high security, ultra private affair in a clandestine location. Just like any corporate merger, the actual signing of the documents is attended only by the top officers from both companies. I was completely unaware of this tasty dessert party, and I had not packed any proper dessert tasting pants or any of my formal dessert bibs. Again, I spent much of the day studying; but at some point, I had to make an unscheduled trip to a clothing store on the birthday of our hugely awesome nation taking advantage of discounts while also stimulating the economy. It was the most patriotic thing I have done since eating that cake with American flag frosting three years ago.

We decided to be fashionably late to the tasty dessert party, and thus arrived there a bit after 8:00PM. The house was already full of people with whom I share sanguineous relationships. As we walked in the door, we were greeted by Zaid and Denise who were both descending the staircase, hand in hand. They seemed quite happy and quite married. I met Zaid at the bottom, and I asked him if he was really married. Zaid did not speak. He let his hand answer in the affirmative for him. On his left ring finger was a band forged from precious metals meant to symbolize the execution of the legally binding wedding agreement. I then turned my attention to my newest cousin, Denise. I congratulated her. Denise then told me that she expected me to write extensively about this marriage on my website. That is what I am doing in this very entry, Denise. As you can see, I am establishing myself as faithful, reliable cousin as I commit this description of your nuptials to text as fast as I can.

After Denise and I had communicated pleasantries to one another, she shockingly busted out with a juicy piece of Zaid-related gossip. She made remarks about Zaid’s clothing accessory choice. I laughed. Zaid quickly broke into our conversation with his classic, “hey now,” that he frequently says when someone points out something unusual about his clothing (such as repeatedly wearing the same shirt to multiple Thanksgivings). He pointed out that she had just told me to report everything on the website. I am a nice guy and quite afraid of Denise’s wrath, so I will avoid passing along the gossip; instead, I will just make up something. Let’s see…the suit Zaid was wearing that evening was made from baby seals, which Zaid hunted himself….with a club. That’s right, you read it here first. Therefore it must be true…

I realized that there were an overwhelming number of relatives with whom to talk: uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins, bespectacled and mustachioed individuals purporting to be distant relatives, etc. I wanted to talk with everybody, to exchange information and have frank discussions about the current issues affecting our family. It was quite difficult, though. There were a few highlights. I got to hug Aunt Lisa and Cousin Stephanie. I also made eye contact with Uncle Doug. That was a real growth step for me. I usually cannot look at him in the face because he was so frightening to me as a child. When he was my boss, he was quite a tyrant, too. He’s always been a bit of an ogre, as it relates to our interactions. I got to see Aunt Maggie and hear about her wonderful trip to Greece. She was also excited to hear about my impending trip to Northern Spain. My Cousin Georgia got in on this action, too. Cousin Danny and I talked about his latest housing concerns as well as his newest gigs. I also finally got to commune with my Aunt (and God-Momma) Tina. It was touch and go at first because of some recent trouble I caused here, but all was forgiven. I chatted with Moe and caught up with Yasser about the recent move to Pittsburgh. We have all been living in the same state but have been too busy to actually see one another. I told him that I would tentatively plan to take a train to see them after taking my exams.

I also got to meet Zaid’s best man and closest confidant, Tony. Zaid represented to Tony that I live my life in an unorthodox manner, which is a complete fabrication. Tony and I chatted for a while, during which I somehow misunderstood that he had gone to psychic school before getting hired at an architecture firm, learning the ropes on the job, and rising to become the lead architect. I commented on how unusual that life-job trajectory was, and after about ten minutes, Tony informed me that he was a computer architect with a degree in Psychology. Boy was my face red (from too much makeup). To extricate myself from this uncomfortable situation, I quickly distracted him with something shiny and excused myself to the Iraqi tea station. I love this tea, as much for the taste as for the process by which it is made. Simply marvelous!

After a while, it was time to cut the pre-wedding cake. Zaid and Denise cut the cake together, though I got the impression that most of the cutting was done by Denise. She has great knife handling skills. Zaid seemed to have some trouble, so Denise helped him while making it seem like she was just holding his hand for romantic reasons. After cake had been distributed, I got some more Iraqi tea and retreated to the front sitting room to chat with some San Antonio relatives. Mother and godmother were catching up on the latest health food juice products. Mother was really making the hard sell about this new juice called Xorpatron, which is supposed to clean your blood. After a while, it was time to leave. We bid farewell to the bride and groom.

It was July 5. I was excited. I had heard credible rumors that there would be tender, juicy, sliced roast beef served with horseradish sauce at the reception. This is my absolute favorite wedding food. Every time I eat it, I smile and think to myself, “this must have been what it was like when J.P. Morgan attended a wedding…” Cake would also be plentiful. Of course, the bridal wedding cake was sure to be an architectural feat of engineering since my uncle was trained as an architect in college. The groomiary cake would likely also be wonderful, though more modest, as tradition always dictates. At the appointed hour, we arrived at the galleria area hotel where the reception would take place. A valet took our car. I felt very pompous. We entered the reception room, and oh it was a grand affair. Cocktail hour was being held in a fabulously appointed holding room. At the center was an ice sculpture. I was tempted to touch it, perhaps even chip off a bit, but I remember how everyone seemed upset at the last wedding when I did that. Zaid and Denise were nowhere to be found. It turned out they would be presented to us later in the evening, once we were seated at our eating tables, just prior to the succulent roast beef with horseradish sauce.

However, despite the fact that the bride and groom would not be presented until later, there were plenty of people whose company I was happy to enjoy. Most of my family was there…

Unfortunately, my grandmother was ill, so she did not make the trip over, which was hugely disappointing. However, I did get to talk with her on the phone, and she seemed like she was going to be on the mend. I reminded her that when all was better we would get to work on our latest restaurant idea, Yiaya’s Papayas: Premium Pizza and Auto Body Repair While You Get Your Nails Done.

It was really great to get a chance to talk to everybody and wear my new outfit. I looked fantastic. Well, maybe that is a strong word. I looked okay…well, decent…okay let’s say not hideous. Since Cousin Daniel is preparing to enter his high school years, and Stephanie just finished the first of hers, I gave them some classic, Kirk-advice on how to stay out of trouble and advance their interests. After distributing a round of opinions to family members, I walked over to talk with my former boss and mentor, who was there with his wife and kids. It was then time to get place cards and see who my company would be for the next few hours.

The doors to the main dining area opened and attendants beckoned us to enter and take our seats. I found myself at a table with Mother, some cousins, Aunt Lisa, and Uncle Doug. Somehow he made it to the table first. When he saw me walking toward our table, he pulled my chair out with a look on his face that said, “You’re mine for the next few hours; prepare for some emotional discomfort.” I knew this night was about to get more interesting. Each table had lavish floral centerpieces which made it difficult to converse with people across the table. It was almost as if Lisa, Doug, Stephanie, and I were in our own little club inside a flower forest. Even though I could see Daniel and almost see Alex, they were not part of the club because of floral overhang. I would later find out that the flowers were awfully potent, almost overwhelmingly so.

A man interjected his presence into our little club to ask if I wanted wine. I told him that I did not and he took a bunch of my stemware away from me. I was displeased. While we waited for the succulent roast beef with horseradish sauce, we snacked on Jordan almonds, which had been strewn about the table. This also provided a distraction for Doug to keep his interaction with me to a minimum. He kept stating his intentions to box my ears before noticing more Jordan almonds on the table and eating them.

Suddenly, the doors swung back open and Cousin Reem walked in carrying a basket of flowers. As she led the way, the newly christened Mr. and Mrs. Zaid and Denise Zeeblemeyer walked through the door. They were glowing with wonderful radiance. Reem parted the masses and enforced the no-touching-the-couple policy. They weaved through the tables throwing out smiles and greetings while exuding a flashy fabulousness not seen in Houston since the seventies. I was able to snap a quick picture of Zaid and Denise as they passed, but they were moving quickly. Both are quite athletic and can move like snakes on a plane. Eventually, they found their way to the dance floor area. A pair of chairs, specially adorned for the occasion, was placed at the edge of the dance floor for Zaid and Denise to sit in to receive well wishers. My understanding is that these seats were traditional “marriage chairs”. The life of a newly minted married couple is not all country roses and golden idols. They are essentially out there on display for the people, and everyone wants to come up and interject their two cents about how wondrous this occasion is. Zaid and Denise sat patiently receiving everybody. At the far end of the room, the tasty roast beef with fresh horseradish sauce sat, beckoning the newly weds and the guests. Zaid had ordered me to take pictures of the reception during the previous evening’s tasty dessert gathering, so I did my duty, snapping pictures all along the way.

I seated myself, taking an opportunity for some respite. Doug had wandered away with Georgia’s recently de-mustachioed husband, John. I talked with Aunt Lisa about the new computers at her job, and I tried to give more mentoring advice to my younger cousins. Then it was time for the first dance. I cannot remember what song they chose, but it was beautiful. Zaid and Denise danced for masses, for the masses demanded it. After the dancing, we were ordered to return to our seats. A disembodied voice from above told us to remain seated and that we would be dismissed by table to get in the roast beef line. Was it a deity? Maybe the atheists were wrong. I was sure the answer was “yes,” but Doug spoiled my belief system by pointing out it was the disc jockey. He loves to put the mental screws to my psyche. At some point before our number was actually announced, people at our table suggested that perhaps we should already have gotten in the roast beef line. That did not seem right at all since none of the tables around us had been dismissed to get their food. However, the call of tender roast beef with horseradish sauce overrode my sense of honor in this situation. Thus, we dismissed ourselves to the food line. People were yelling at us along the way, but we deflected their criticisms and got in line.

I finally got another opportunity to chat with Aunt Tina as we advanced in line. Since we had resolved the controversies between us from the previous day, we were able to have a healthy godmother-godson talk. We exchanged information until we arrived at the food distribution section of the food line. There were various salads and side dishes. I looked to my left and saw the object of my affection, the sliced roast beef with horseradish sauce station. There was man with a long, sharp knife ready to cut some meat for me on command. I made a mental note not to upset the guy lest he begin slicing at me. Aunt Tina informed me about how much she loved this type of roast beef. I nodded and told her I thought it was okay. I did not think it was appropriate to acknowledge my weakness for such a lavish food in front of my godmother. She might have gotten the impression that I have been traipsing around town with the Philadelphia horsy set. I asked for and received a healthy slab of the wonderful meat, and over the top I poured the wonderful horseradish sauce. At that moment, I reached a religious Zen-like state in the church of meat worship.

As I sat down at the table to consume these victuals, noticed that Zaid and Denise were circulating around the banquet hall, talking with people as they ate. It was then that I truly recognized the genius of their plan. They would ply us with sumptuous roast beef with spicy horseradish sauce and then take that opportunity to accept our congratulations. That way no guest would be able to truly talk the bride and groom’s ears off with unnecessarily bloated congratulations. Why talk when there’s meat on the plate to be ate. As I enjoyed the meat, the newlyweds made their way to our table. Zaid asked if I had been taking pictures. We shook hands like men, and Zaid moved on to Doug. Denise then stood over me and smiled. She grabbed my shoulder with surprising strength. She is quite mighty. I won’t lie, it hurt quite a bit. She told me that she had always liked me and thought of me as a good, upstanding individual. She reiterated that she wanted to see me write things about the wedding on the website, but that I better not write anything too outlandish or scandalous. My eyes were watering from the vice nerve pinch she had placed on my shoulder pressure points. After she walked away, someone asked why I was crying. I lied and stated that I had eaten too much horseradish sauce. It was a good cover.

I ate enough food for three Vikings, all the while remaining wary of Doug’s demeanor. There were two wedding guests not of our family at the table (old friends of my aunt and uncle). They clearly saw the fear I had of Doug and inquired as to the nature of our relationship. I tried to put a nice spin on my Doug related interactions, but later I secretly informed them of his scariness. They told me that is was going to be okay and reminded me that since I live in Philadelphia and am now an adult, his reign of terror should finally be over. They were right. He’s not so scary any more.

Suddenly it was time to slice some cake. The masses huddled around the wedding cake station. I elbowed by way to a good position in the front with my camera in hand. The cutting setup was similar to the previous night, except the cake towered over everybody and was much more lavish. Zaid and Denise held the knife together. Of course, as I wrote before, Denise is quite a knife wielder. She was able to steady Zaid’s hand and provide the necessary strength and determination to cut that cake. After the cutting, they dispensed with what I consider one of the most important parts of the reception. Zaid did not force feed cake to Denise. This was highly unorthodox. This tradition is representative of the groom asserting his dominance in the marriage. Instead, Zaid and Denise ate their respective pieces of cake while sipping on fine champagne. Then Denise did something shocking. She forced Zaid to eat cake. It was a total reversal. How could Zaid let this happen? He tried to recover a few minutes later, but it was too late. Denise had asserted her dominance, setting the tone for years of the marriage.

After the cake cutting exercise concluded, attendants began delivering the cake to the tables. It was standard wedding cake fare with light icing. I quite like that kind of cake. Around that time, Zaid’s best man Tony stood on the dance floor with a microphone in hand. It was time for the highly anticipated bestmanular speech. Tony talked about how he and Zaid first met fore making subtle references to various troubles they had created for themselves. For example, they tried to sneak off to New Orleans Mardi Gras, but were foiled at the last minute when a third member of the group (whom we will call Willard) expressed excitement over the impending drive to New Orleans to my uncle Nabil. Thus ended the quest to Mardi Gras, before it ever began. Willard was expelled from Zaid’s friendship organization. Tony concluded his speech and slowly back away from the stage. He was followed by the maid of honor, whose name I never got. She had a red dress. She told everyone that they had to sit down before she would start her speech. Once everyone was seated at the correct table, she began to speak about the closeness she and Denise share, rivaling that of sisters. It was a touching tribute to the friendship.

The maid of honor’s speech was the last structured activity of the evening. It was now time for the freestyle dancing. Zaid and Denise had brought in this singer who would do twenty minute songs where he would continuously sing dance type tunes. He had pipes rivaling Ethel Mermon. In between his performances, popular music would be played by the deejay. We really tore up the dance floor. It was quite a blast. My Great Aunt Maggie got out there and really showed that we have been blessed with excellent genes. Mother was out there as was I. As it got close to midnight, it was time to leave. Soon, our automobile would turn back into a pumpkin, and my glass loafers would disappear. I was not sad to leave, though, because I felt that I had sufficiently cut the rug and showed off my dance skills. Thus we asked the valet to fetch our automobile and left the hotel.

The following morning, a final breakfast was slated to take place at the hotel. I went back on my own since Mother was plum tuckered out from the affair. I enjoyed one more morning with my San Antonio relatives. Barclay and Kristi left with my cousins to visit NASA. Daniel and Alexandra headed back to San Antonio. Lisa left with Stephanie to do whatever it is they felt the need to do. I stayed to watch Wimbledon with Aunt Maggie, Cousin Georgia, and Aunt Tina until it was time to send them off to the airport. In the meantime, Georgia told me that Aunt Madeline had given us permission to take the centerpieces. She suggested I load them into Mother’s car and drive them around to the local family members. In all, I collected about ten centerpieces of various sizes and stashed them in Mother’s car. I bid farewell to everybody, and began driving to Doug and Lisa’s house to deposit a few of the arrangements. It turns out that when one collects large numbers of freshly cut, potent flowers in a small enclosed area, the pheromones really can be overwhelming. As I drove, I began to feel both sick and dizzy yet strangely amorous, and I was not sure why. After a few minutes I realized that the pungent aroma of the flowers while beautiful was also deadly, much like when a beautiful female assassin wears perfume. I opened the windows which dramatically improved the driving conditions in that car. The water in the arrangement vases overflowed onto the cars carpets, but I was able to clean that mess up without Mother really realizing what had happened. As long as she does not read this website, everything should be okay. If she does read this far in the story, she will probably give me a stern talking-to, but I will have deserved it.

Zaid and Denise began their honeymoon in Spain a couple of days later. By complete coincidence, I also went to Spain a few days after that, though we were never in the same place. That is the start of another story.

When I reflect on the theme of this wedding, I keep coming back to that tasty, succulent, tender roast beef and horseradish sauce. I have come to realize that the roast beef with horseradish sauce is a metaphor for Zaid and Denise. Separately, roast beef is just a flavorful cooked meat while horseradish sauce is something I like and frequently drink before bedtime. However, together, they form one of the most wonderful foods known to man. Similarly, Zaid and Denise are fairly cool people. They have good jobs. Denise used to work for Transformers (her boss was Optimus Prime). I had plenty of respect for them. However, together they can now be termed a “super couple,” greater than the sum of their parts. Maybe I am just reading way too much into all of this.

Congratulations Zaid and Denise. I hope you (Denise) realize what you have gotten yourself into by joining our family.

Many people in my spheres of influence seem to get married. A few years ago, a steady stream of my Catholic friends got hitched, and a few of them actually asked me to stand with them on the altar. I have two weddings in the period of a month this summer. The invitations are in my possession. Most come with a simple RSVP asking if I will be coming alone or with a guest. There is no space for me to list any of the requirements or amenities that will be necessary for my attendance to be assured. I have therefore decided to draft this electronic document of what my presence at a wedding will entail. In the future, I will simply refer future brides and grooms to this electronic agreement:

IMPORTANT-READ CAREFULLY: This Wedding Attendance Agreement (”WAA”) is a legal agreement between you (either as individuals or as a nuptial unit) and Craig Schwangfelder (”The Schwang”) with regard to the attendance of The Schwang to your nuptial ceremony (”The Event”). This WAA delineates the strict terms under which The Schwang will attend The Event. An amendment or addendum to this WAA may accompany The Schwang on the day of attendance to The Event. YOU AGREE TO BE BOUND BY THE TERMS OF THIS WAA BY READING THIS AGREEMENT. IF YOU DO NOT AGREE, YOU MUST IMMEDIATELY UNINVITE THE SCHWANG, AND YOU MAY ASK FOR A REFUND, IF APPROPRIATE.

1. ACCOMPANIMENT. The Schwang will not be alone in his attendance of The Event. The Schwang will boast an entourage of five (5) dates during his attendance to The Event.

1.1 Comely Woman. The Schwang’s primary date to The Event will be a heretofore unnamed comely woman (”The Woman”) whose identity will be decided at a later date. The Woman will likely stand at a height of at least five (5) feet ten (10) inches. The Woman will require three (3) attendants to accompany her for the duration of The Event. One attendant should carry a basket of rose petals to place in front of The Woman’s feet whenever The Woman sees fit to walk about at The Event. The second attendant will need to have a large canister of perfume which constantly can be sprayed in the vicinity of The Woman so that she does not have to bear the smell of common folk. The third attendant should have a deep, tenor voice, that he may sing opera songs to The Woman when she becomes bored.

1.2 Deena Barton. The Schwang’s secondary date will be professional female bodybuilder Deena Barton (”Deena”). Deena is the reigning United States “most rippling quadriceps” champion. The Schwang met Deena at Border’s, where she was signing copies of her newest book Legs Like Pythons. Maintaining those championship quadriceps requires round-the-clock care. As such, it will be required that The Schwang apply lubrication to Deena’s legs with special leg grease at least four (4) times during The Event.

1.3 Niece of Circus Performer Gunther Gebel’s Second Cousin. Whenever The Schwang makes an appearance in public, he needs to be ensconced in celebrity. While Deena may be known in the world of female body building, The Schwang requires some additional celebrity accompaniment. Gunther Gebel was one of the most famous circus performers in the history of the universe. Then he died. His tiger taming abilities have yet to be matched. His second cousin’s niece (”Lucy”) shares Gebel’s striking hair and facial features. Lucy also brandishes a whip and is not afraid to use it.

1.4 Professional Clown-Like Entertainer. Barpho The Magnificent (”Barpho”) is on the cutting edge of professional clowning. The Schwang tends to get bored at public events. Therefore, The Schwang will hire Barpho in advance to act as an entertainer for the boring moments of The Event. The Schwang generally runs a tab with Barpho so that The Schwang may summon Barpho at a moment’s notice to be on hand for entertainment. Barpho tends to frighten children, so it is advisable that You keep children away from Barpho as his behavior cannot be predicted. Being that Barpho’s identity and even gender are unknown, Barpho’s date with The Schwang will be completely platonic. The Schwang doesn’t do androgyny.

1.5 A Doctor. The Schwang tends to gorge himself on food at drink at these types of events, especially if there is an open bar. The Schwang takes his gluttony to such an extreme, that he keeps his personal physician, Dr. Guillermo Guadalupe (”Dr. Guadalupe”) close at hand. While Dr. Guadalupe is not a classically trained, elitist “medical” physician, he is The Schwang’s life coach and boxing instructor. The Schwang trusts Dr. Guadalupe with his life. If necessary, Dr. Guadalupe with be paired with Barpho for the purposes of dancing.

2. TRANSPORTATION AND AMBULATION

2.1 Arrival. The Schwang will arrive at The Event in a stretch Hummer limo with a hot tub inside. The Hummer has five man-servants whom will need to be fed. The food need not necessarily be from the wedding; it merely needs fall within the legal definition of food.

2.2 The Schwang does not generally walk under his own power. To move from the front door to the room in which The Event will be held, The Schwang will be conveyed by pony-drawn mini-carriage. This will also be the means by which The Schwang travels to the restroom facilities throughout the evening. During The Event itself, The Schwang will move about the room by means of Segue person-mover device, generously donated by Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club. Being that the source of the Segue is the previously stated company, You should be cognizant of the fact that the Segue will display advertisements which some might consider raunchy.

3. FOOD CONSUMPTION

3.1 A Formal Meal. The Schwang will require a full traditional Scandinavian seventeen (17) course meal to be served to him and his entourage. The exact components of the meal can be negotiated at a later time with one exception; three of the courses must consist solely of puddings. Preferably, one pudding course should be served in an inflatable children’s pool.

3.2 Food Restrictions. When selecting the menu for the meal served at The Event, special precautions must be taken with regard to the food allergies of The Schwang and members of his entourage. The Schwang has a gluten allergy and a nut allergy. Barpho is lactose intolerant, which is how he originally got his name. Deena only consumes concentrated protein shakes, and Dr. Guadalupe is a vegan. The ponies will need to be fed organic oats.

4. MISCELANY

4.1 Canine Accompaniment. The Schwang does not travel anywhere without his dog, Spanky. Spanky is The Schwang’s prize rottweiler. Thus, The Schwang will be bringing Spanky to The Event. Spanky’s thyroid condition has not improved, and his putrid odor has worsened with age. The Schwang will require a special pen to house Spanky in the same room as The Event. Spanky gets too emotional if not in the same room as The Schwang. Also, Spanky suffers from depression and dissociative disorder, so he may attempt to disrupt The Event. Spanky is relatively docile and friendly excepted when excited, nervous, irritated, happy, sad, hungry, satiated, tired, or discombobulated. Spanky also does not like loud noises, so You agree to keep the ambient noise level of The Event low. You also agree to be patient with Spanky.

LIMITATION ON REMEDIES; NO CONSEQUENTIAL OR OTHER DAMAGES. Your exclusive remedy for any breach of this WAA is as set forth below. YOU ARE NOT ENTITLED TO ANY DAMAGES, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES, if The Schwang or his entourage causes disruption to The Event, make some sort of physical mess, generate some violence, or do not properly clean after the service animals.

ALSO, THERE IS NO WARRANTY OR CONDITION OF TITLE, QUIET ENJOYMENT, QUIET POSSESSION, CORRESPONDENCE TO DESCRIPTION OR NON-INFRINGEMENT WITH REGARD TO THE ATTENDANCE OF THE SCHWANG TO THE EVENT.

17. EXCLUSION OF INCIDENTAL, CONSEQUENTIAL AND CERTAIN OTHER DAMAGES. TO THE MAXIMUM EXTENT PERMITTED BY APPLICABLE LAW, IN NO EVENT SHALL THE SCHWANG OR HIS ENTOURAGE BE LIABLE FOR ANY SPECIAL, INCIDENTAL, PUNITIVE, INDIRECT, OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES WHATSOEVER (INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, DAMAGES FOR LOSS OF CONSORTIUM OR CONFIDENTIAL OR OTHER INFORMATION, FOR BUSINESS INTERRUPTION, FOR PERSONAL INJURY, FOR LOSS OF PRIVACY, FOR FAILURE TO MEET ANY DUTY INCLUDING OF GOOD FAITH OR OF REASONABLE CARE, FOR NEGLIGENCE, AND FOR ANY OTHER PECUNIARY OR OTHER LOSS WHATSOEVER) ARISING OUT OF OR IN ANY WAY RELATED TO THE ATTENDANCE OF THE SCHWANG TO THE EVENT OR HIS INABILITY THEREOF. FURTHERMORE, SHOULD THE SCHWANG BECOME NAKED AT THE EVENT, AND VIEWING THIS NUDITY SCARS YOUR SOUL, NEITHER THE SCHWANG NOR HIS ENTOURAGE WILL BE LIABLE FOR YOUR COSTS RELATING TO RELIGIOUS COUNSELING.

21. ENTIRE AGREEMENT; SEVERABILITY. This WAA (including any addendum or amendment to this WAA which will be presented by The Schwang at The Event) is the entire agreement between you and The Schwang relating to the The Schwang’s attendance of The Event and they supersede all prior or contemporaneous oral or written communications, proposals and representations with respect to the Schwang’s attendance of The Event or any other subject matter covered by this WAA. To the extent The Schwang makes statements in conflict with the terms of this WAA while obnoxiously drunk and naked at The Event, or while in a steroid induced rage and naked at The Event, the terms of this WAA shall control. If any provision of this WAA is held to be void, invalid, unenforceable or illegal, the other provisions shall continue in full force and effect.

Ahhh, I’ll Have to Pencil This Wedding In. Good? Great! Bye.

Well, the day finally arrived. Christopher Arthur Graeter was marrying Kim Daniels. Mark #1 was in town and had finally stopped crying about the fact that his Trojans just could not get it done this year. He offered to drive to the wedding, so I drove over to his parents’ house. I planned to wear my trusty suit, which has gotten me through many a High Holy days, weddings, funerals, court appearances, celebrity food fights, and diorama competitions. However, when I put the pants on, they did not even come close to fitting around my waste. Over the past year or so, I weighed the most I have ever weighed (195 lbs.) and lost fifteen pounds to get back to sleeker, more aerodynamic look. Apparently, though, this suit was fitted to a much slimmer Kirk. I suppose it is about time to get some new suits. So, I was reduced to wearing black pants, a blue striped shirt, a navy tie, and some shiny black shoes. Needless to say, it was still an attractive ensemble.

I arrived at #1’s house ready to crash this wedding. Mark was wearing some sort of suit with a lavender shirt. I never thought of him as a lavender shirt kind of guy, but I suppose he has been in Los Angeles for a few years now. I chatted with the Massey’s for a while, joking about Mark’s lack of internet savvy, even in this day and age. They confided that he has always been a little bit slow. Then Mark came in the room and we pretended to talk about something else. He did not seem to notice. It was time to head to the wedding. Mark drove us in his mother’s car, a 1975 “woodie” station wagon. The Massey’s have it suped up, and this baby runs on Ice-32

We arrived at the Rainbow lodge. The parking lot was already packed. There was curbside valet service, so we just drove up, and a man in a white dinner jacket, slicked-back black hair, and a generous mustache opened my car door. I brought the wedding invitation in with me thinking we would need it to gain admission to the wedding, but this was not the case. I was at a loss as to what to do with it during the ceremony as it was a 11.5″ x 13″ piece of card stock paper. That is one thing about Christopher, he was always into big party invitations. I remember one time he was having this party to celebrate his twenty-first birthday. The invitation came rolled up in an eight-foot-long mailing tube.

Whenever there are large gatherings of people, I am guaranteed to make at least a few faux pas’s in the evening. Most of the time, they are somewhat intentional. When we walked into the outdoor wedding area, I made an unintentional social gaffe of epic proportions. The first person we met at the beginning of the bridge over the ravine leading to the wedding was Kim’s step father. I addressed him by the wrong name. I knew as the words came out of my mouth that it was incorrect, but I could not stop them from coming out. Even if I could have stopped them, I would have been in a whole other pickle. The “Mister” would have already been out of the bag; and once you unleash that beast, it cannot be tamed except by a surname of some sort. Now, had I been on my toes, I could have pulled a New Orleans and called him “Mister Randy” and then played it off as if I just picked up the habit in NOLA. Unfortunately, that Saturday was a slow-Kirk day. To his credit, Mr. Broiles acted with superior grace. He made a half-second look of confusion before greeting me by the correct name. As we crossed the bridge, I told Mark of the incident, and he seemed amused. He always finds my social failures amusing. He still has not gotten over how I taunted him in seventh grade math over the difference in our scores on a particular exam. Also, I did hit him once in the face just days after he had major oral surgery; but in my defense, I forgot that he had had surgery. Then, of course, there was the time I taunted him continuously over the painful loss USC suffered against our beloved Longhorns. That was four days prior, so he was probably still a bit bitter about that situation.

About halfway across the bridge, there were a couple of Lodge staff members serving hot cocoa with marshmallows. This seemed like a good treat, considering there was a slight chill in the air. Before the staff member would release the cocoa into my custody, though, he had to confirm that I was not allergic to marshmallows. I did not even know there was such a thing as a marshmallow allergy. Are not marshmallows just sugar, somehow transformed into a pillowey confection? Perhaps someone can enlighten me.

I was beginning to run out of hand space. I was still holding the 149.5 inches squared invitation, a program that someone handed me, and my cocoa. The program detailed the participants in the wedding and the order in which things were supposed to happen. We finally were able to cross the bridge which dropped us right in back of the last row of chairs. Immediately, I noticed that the chairs were facing the front marriage gazebo. The whole thing was located on gentle positive slope. As we walked down the path toward the aisle we ran into Mrs. Mayfield and Mr. and Mrs. Graeter. The right side was the groomiary side, so after exchanging brief pleasantries, we were directed to our seats. On the way to sitting down, I saw Jeff Prewitt and briefly exchanged words with him. I knew I would have more to say to him later in the evening.

The reason I bring up the slope of the wedding area is because it caused the chairs to be leaning back in their natural state. As such, wedding viewers had to be careful not to topple backwards. That did not seem too difficult to avoid, however. I figured only someone who is quite foolish would fall back. A string quartet was playing music as we sat and waited for the ceremony to begin. Mark started talking to some old aquaintance from Episcopal high school. I met this guy later on, and I believe he is a lobbyist in Washington D.C. He was probably happy to have a respite from issues surrounding that guy in the fedora.

The officiant (I believe he was an Anglican reverend) stood at the gazebo. The quartet began playing the procession song and we were off to the races. The aisle was rather small, so some parts of the coming down the aisle were slightly cramped. I do not remember who was escorting whom, but I know Eric Mehlhoff escorted a grandmother down the aisle. Wilson, the best man, escorted the the maid of honor, Katherine. Wilson is good at escorting people. I could write one of many stories about Wilson at this point, but I am choosing to not do so. It is probably enough that I bring up his attire at the medieval feast every chance I get. The other groomsman was Gran Potter. He was the court jester at the medieval feast, mostly on account of his passable juggling skills.

Once everyone was in place, Kim came down the aisle with her parents. The path was treacherously narrow, but they all made it without catching on fire. Kim arrived with little fanfare at the marriage gazebo. The Reverend greeted everyone and said a few words of welcome. We were asked to rise, but he warned us to be careful not to have a chair-on-hill related accident. I began to stand up, but halfway through the process, I realized that I was in fact sitting down again. I was not attempting to sit back down, and it was happening quite quickly. The only thing that kept me from hitting that chair, toppling backwards down the hill, and ruining the wedding was that the lady in front of me had not stood yet. I was able to grab her chair to stablize myself.

The usual wedding stuff went down involving rings, vows, kisses, and blessings. The reverend made a right, pretty speech and some of the important virtues of being married and some of the responsibilities involved. He talked about all manners of forsaking; forsaking others, forsaking needless anger and brooding, forsaking work, and forsaking too many pies. I’ll be the first to say, pies is going to be the hardest to resist. The way I see it, there are many different types of pies, each with its own, unique characteristics. Some pies are obvious like cream pies and pumpkin pies. But what about shepherd’s pie? You might eat like half of that before you realize it’s a pie. It is going to be a long, hard road, but I trust Christopher will be able to resist excessive pies. He should also stay away from the House of Pies, but there are many other reasons to not go there.

The service ended and the recessional began. Things were a bit hectic and I think Eric escorted a different grandmother out of the wedding area. The reverend told those of us not part of the wedding party to go inside and start drinking while the wedding photos were taken. Who was I to argue? As we were making our way out the the chairs, Mark and I ran into an old face from St. Francis. This face, and the body it was attached to belonged to Mike Crawley. I had not seen Mike since we had a St. Francis reunion at #1’s house senior year of high school. Mike is married now to a nice girl whose name is Sarah, I think. We chatted with Mike as we walked back across the bridge and into the lodge area where the reception was being held. Jeff Prewitt and Mrs. Prewitt also joined us as we walked. Jeff and I talked about interim principle, Mr. Ulhe, as well as Jeff’s antics during religion class taught by interim reverend, Mrs. Suarez. We all had to write essays once in that class because Jeff hurled a derogitory term in the direction of Ashley Crum. Also discussed were Mrs. Unger, Señora Remeck, and the Macho Man Randy Savage. Mr. Savage substituted for a couple of weeks during sixth grade math when Mrs. Lindsay had to go to The Hague.

I was not aware, but the Rainbow room is a sort of hunting lodge type restaurant. It has a high end log cabin feel to it. Apparently, it is a well-regarded restaurant that specializes in serving game. Much of the food served in the evening was game. There was a man walking around handing out skewered buffalos and quails and miniature tea cups of elbow macaroni and cheese. The cheese may have been game cheese, but I am not sure. Going along with the game theme, this three story hunting lodge was filled with stuffed, mounted animal heads. There were bison, caribou, deer, moose, and one duck billed platipus.

After signing the guest book, we made our way back to the main room where there was a band playing. Rainbow Lodge employees were industriously working to prepare the dinner buffet. There was a large, outdoor balcony area overlooking a wooded area. Mark immediately ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, the first of many. We ate skewered buffalo and macaroni and continued our conversation with Mike. This conversation covered a wide range of topics. Mike’s wife is a teach and we talked about that for a while. However, the one question which has always been on my mind for years, I did not ask. What did the vocalization, “dow-guiss”, mean? I cannot believe I neglected to find out from Mike, who frequently used that expression in middle school but never revealed its definition.

At some point, it became clear that Chris, Kim, and the rest of the wedding party were done taking glamour shots. They came outside to where we were and had their first dance in that outdoor area. I did think the song they chose was somewhat questionable. I don’t think I have ever been to a wedding in which a Beastie Boys song played for the first dance, or any dance for that matter. However, I was not the bride or groom, so my opinion means little. During the first dance, a third party did try to briefly enter the fray, but this person was escorted off by security. There were about twenty posted guards throughout the wedding compound. These guys looked like special forces commandos. Some of them were heavily camouflaged and it was hard to tell they were even there. At one point, I was eating hors d’oeuvres out off a serving plate. I was there a good ten minutes before I realized the plate was being held by one of the camouflaged commandos.

After the first dance, dinner food began being served at the buffet. The line quickly became long and some of us outside decided we would prefer to socialize and drink things until the line situation improved. So we stayed outside. We managed to make our way over to Chris and Kim to offer congratulations. They seemed pretty happy with the way things had turned out. I was able to figure out that they had no idea about the “pudding incident”, and I am pretty sure they never did find out about it. I mingled for a while talking to Mrs. Mayfield, the Potters, the Graeters, and the Prewitts. Wilson and I almost came to blows; and, several times, we tried to schedule a fight in the parking lot. However, I kept getting worried that I would get cramps during the fight, so we kept pushing the time back to account for the impending dinner. We never did get around to fighting, so I will have to call him back up to reschedule.

Suddenly, Mr. Broiles was up on the area overlooking the dance floor where the band was set up. He was going to make a toast to Chris and Kim. His toast was the in the form of a top ten list. The topic was ‘Top Ten Reasons The Bride and Groom Should be Together’. I do not remember all of the reasons he gave. I remember three of them for sure. One is that they are foodies. I think this means that they both like to eat food. The next one I remember is that they are both really in to Starbucks. I did not know Kim was into the ‘Bucks (as I like to call it) but I have known of Chris’ propensity for purchasing expensive coffee-drinks for a long time. When we were in high school, he would buy the $15 iced coffee-drinks made with ice from the purest springs of Norway. As I understand it, he now gets the $35 drink known as “The Sister Jessica”. It can be served hot or over pure Norwegian ice. The coffee comes from a plantation in Bolivia that is on the property of a convent of the Roman Catholic Church of Bolivia, and is picked by the nuns who live in the convent. These coffee beans are highly sought after and garner a high price in the market place due to the belief that they are holy beans. The sale of the beans generate more than enough money sustain the convent. The money also allows the nuns to do many good works for the communities around the convent. But I digress…

The number one reason on the top ten list was about how they are just made for each other. It was nice. After he finished speaking, he told us that anyone else who wanted to make a toast throughout the night could go up to the band area and ask them to quiet the wedding guests with some creative drum playing. People started to mingle again and talk. I felt it was high time to get in line to get some food. Mark was being a real follower that night and followed me into the food line. There was a vast assortment of food that evening. Going along with the theme of the Rainbow Lodge, most of the food was gamey and wild. There was quail stuffed with buffalo stuffed with additional quail marinated in rabbit. There was a noodle and shrimp dish. The shrimp were clearly wild. The noodles were Venezuelan jungle noodles. These are some of the most dangerous noodles there are, and it takes a skilled archer to hunt them. They are also quite tasty. There were also wild game potatoes. They were baked, but this was no ordinary baked potato. Ordinary baked potato is not much of a wedding food. There’s all that skin and you have to mix all your ingredients without tearing the skin. I have quite a few problems with the execution of this process, so I generally do not eat potatoes in public. However, the Rainbow Room turned this troublesome side item into an elegant wedding dish worthy of the reception of Prince Charles and that lady. The potato mix was taken from the potato shells and hand scooped into a large wine glass. This made it much easier for me to fix my potato without making a mess. I felt liberated.

Mark used his connections with Eric, the raving groomsman, to get us a seat at a table on the third or fourth floor. We took our food up there and sat overlooking the forested area surrounding the lodge. We could even see the wedding staging area. It looked quite a bit smaller from the third floor than it did when we were sitting there. Neither Mark nor I had remembered to acquire beverages prior to making our way to the third floor. At first it seemed that we would have to go all the way back down to get drinks. However, Eric used his status as groomsman to have a third party get drinks for us. I had another cola beverage. Mark had yet another Long Island Iced Tea. I am not sure what Eric drank, but I am sure it was complicated.

During the meal, we recapped the wedding, and Eric gave us the insider’s, behind-the-scenes lowdown on the making of this whole affair. There were probably other topics of discussion, but I stopped listening because nobody was talking about ME. Mrs. Graeter was walking around and talked to us for a few minutes. After eating I wandered down one flight of stairs and was in front of a bar. Who do I see in front of the bar? None other than Jeffrey Prewitt. Jeff and I had some words earlier and it was time to hash things out between us. Jeff seemed much quieter than he had been earlier, so I did most of the talking. I covered a wide range of topics revolving around religion, meta-physics, and metallurgy. Jeff just stared at me. This went on for about half an hour. Then Gran came up and told me that I was not talking to Jeff. It was actually a mounted caribou head. Fortunately nobody was around and Gran said he would not tell anybody.

We went in the other room, and much of the old middle school gang was there. Mark was drinking a Long Island Iced Tea. Wilson was brooding, likely over being the first one to be dismissed in the second grade spelling bee. I was also dismissed from this bee. I spelled “announce” A-N-O-U-N-C-E. He was the best man in this wedding, so he had to quell his emotions so he did not do something crazy like eat the wedding rings or yell at the reverend. He did a good job of best-manning. Gran was talking to adults. He is good at that. I lose focus too quickly. The real Jeff, not fake caribou Jeff, was a cool customer. No doubt, he was observing the situation, absorbing the happenings to put into his new play, entitled, “Dunce on Fifth Avenue.” Mike and Sarah Crawley were there. It is always weird to see Mike these days because back in middle school, he completed his growing procedures by fifth grade, so he was always much bigger than us. Now he is about at eye level which puts a whole new perspective on things. Robert Mayfield was there and Wilson was berating him. I chatted with Mr. Potter and took a crazy picture with Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Prewitt where I displayed my rock-and-roll face.

After additional chatting, I wandered back down stairs. Apparently the wedding cakes had been cut, and nobody had notified me. Cake was being distributed freely. I use the term cake somewhat loosely because, while there was a bridal cake, the groom’s cake was, in fact, a groom’s pie. To be exact, it was a pecan pie. It seems Chris did not waste much time falling back into his old pie habits. I guess he was not listening when the reverend spoke of forsaking excessive pies. I suppose in retrospect, we should have taken him to the House of Pies for his bachelor party, but I guess hindsight is always 20/20. Actually, it’s not always 20/20. Many times, I hear people tell me what they ’should have done’ and it is a worse idea than what they actually did. Anyhow, I think the groom’s pie issue is probably no big deal. This was just a few pecan pies, so I am sure everything will still be okay.

I managed to acquire a piece of cake; but I lost track of the pie reception area, so I did not get to partake in the pie. The cake was good. Standard butter-cream affair with heavy frosting. Dee-lish! About this time, I caught sight of Christopher finally getting a bite to eat. I caught up with him and sat down for a chat. He was glad to finally get to eat something. At weddings, it always seems like those exerting the most energy, the newlyweds, are the last to be allowed to eat. Mr. Potter and Robert Mayfield sat down at the table with us and we all talked for a while longer. The conversation turned to the honey moon. Chris and Kim were headed to the Napa Valley in California to tour the vineards and to take in the beautiful scenery. There was a good discussion about how great Napa is, how the wineries are fantastic, and how much fun the trip should be. By the end of the conversation, I was not sure if we were really talking about wine anymore.

I took my leave to walk about a little more. I talked to various people. I spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Broiles and complimented Mr. Broiles on his speech and thanked him for the honor of attending their daughter’s wedding. I was not sure how much longer things were going to last, but I actually needed to go because I had some unfinished job work at home and we were on a short deadline. I talked to Mark about leaving and he needed to leave soon, as well. I began to make the rounds of bidding all farewell when Gran told me that newlywed exit time was fast approaching. It was decided I would stay until after this event took place. Ultra-important work paper could wait.

I milled about while as the wedding began to wind down. Finally, those of us from the St. Francis/Episcopal/A&M crowd made our way outside to set up the grand finale exit pyrotechnic display. It is a little known fact that Lance Lancington descends from a long line of pyrotechnicians. Even though Lance has chosen the banking lifestyle, he still knows many of the family secrets. We had about $400 worth of custom made fireworks. We spent a good twenty minutes setting the fireworks up in hidden locations. Wilson assigned Robert the task of staying in Wilson’s car to hit play on the CD player so that it would blast the Agricultural and Mechanical Fighting Tune as Chris and Kim made their way to the exit car. I felt Robert would be able to complete this task, but Wilson felt otherwise. He berated Robert not to make mistake. Inside the black exit automobile, we placed a surprise man in the front seat to drive the car. In the back seats, the Aggies among us placed a couple of A&M stadium seats and two pink flamingos. They also put a magnetic A&M logo on the back door of the car.

So the stage was set for a spectacular exit. As we waited for the happy couple of get ready to leave, we messed around outside. I angered Wilson by telling more embarrassing stories. He challenged me to another fight, but I was so full of food that it just didn’t seem like a good idea. Lance escorted Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Graeter to the parking lot so they could witness the spectacle first hand. I took some pictures. After a while, we started to wonder where the bride and groom were. They had supposedly been getting ready to make their daring escape. Word floated out that there was some concern about our plans for their exit. Finally, the happy couple sent an emissary out. She started casually chatting with a group of us about sports and the weather. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she asked if we were planning on shooting any fireworks off as the couple exited. We were shocked. How could she have known…UNLESS there was a moll amongst us. There was no time to deal with the traitor at that moment, though. Some dissembling was required. Fortunately, that is something at which I excel. I told her that it would be impossible for us to launch fireworks, because none of us has a Class C Incendiary Device Licence. After a little more reassurance from us that we were not up to no good, she went back inside. The joke was on her, though because, Lance has a Class A licence. Still, once she left, we huddled up and decided that fireworks might not be a good idea. So, we decided to jettison that part of the plan. Since the fireworks were hidden, Lance would just come back later to get them.

Suddenly, word came from inside that the reception was going to run for a few more hours. We all started to make our way back inside. Somehow, Robert Mayfield went back in before us and had time to sit Wilson’s car keys down someplace. As we all started to go in, word came again that the bride and groom were about to make their exit. It was a trick, to throw us off balance! We all rushed out to get ready again. Robert came out and started running towards the car. All of the sudden, he realized he didn’t have Wilson’s keys. There was a collective groan. He ran inside and came back out with the keys about five yards in front of the exiting couple. He ran to Wilson’s car and managed to get the CD player up and running just as the bride and groom were exiting. Somehow, all the guests had come out during this commotion and lined the walkway to the exit car to cheer the couple as they left. Chris and Kim came out looking happy and excited. I am sure they were worn out after the day’s events. All the Aggies with us were riled by their battle song. As Kim took her place in the back seat, she was surprised by the presence of the flamingo. She laughed, though, because she likes flamingos. Chris has a deadly fear of flamingos, but the plastic variety do not bother him. With that, they couple bid farewell and went off to enjoy the wines of Napa. Congratulations to the happy couple!

Hobbs praises the wedding analysis and adds a fact that I had completely forgotten. He wore fake hick teeth throughout the wedding rehearsal and dinner that followed. He also suggests a possible future occupation for yours truly.

Kirk,

Brilliant! I love that shit! The only part of the experience that you didn’t mention, that stands out in MY mind at least, is the whole false teeth thing at the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner.

Otherwise, it is remarkable the amount of detail you remember. You should go into some sort of comical writing. Or maybe you could be some rich person’s personal diary writer. He can take you around with him to all his events, and you can write comical diary entries.

Talk to you later,

Hobbs

Exclusive Invitation

The Strategic Merger

Catholic folks seem to really enjoy my presence at their weddings, either in the capacity of a spectator or participant.

Well, the time had finally arrived. For the third weekend in a row, I was traveling. However, this time, the trip would not be rushed. I decided to take two days vacation and leave Wednesday night for NOLA. Not only would this allow me to pick up my wedding tux with enough time to have alterations done if it did not fit, but it would take the pressure off me to travel with haste. Unfortunately, I got caught up with a situation at work and was not able to leave in a timely manner. I decided that it would be best to leave at 4AM the following morning. This gave me a chance to have a relaxing evening at home.

That evening, Amanda requested that I take a gift to Colleen and Jane in New Orleans since they are both probably moving at the end of this month. It was fairly late, and I was tired, so it was agreed that she would just leave it on her porch so that I could pick it up the following morning on my way out of town.

The following morning, I hit the road and made my way to the JVC house. The streets were extremely quiet, and it was a bit surreal. I picked up the gift bag. Attached to it was a key chain that was to be my gift for being so kind as to transport the gift (perhaps drugs?) to Colleen and Jane.

I spent a couple hours on the road before stopping in Beaumont at my favorite Waffle House for some tasty goodness. I gulped a substantial amount of coffee. I spent another couple of hours on the road before getting really tired and stopping in Lafayette. I bought a McDonalds coke and took a nap in their parking lot while listening to the Lion King soundtrack. I still can sing most of the words to the songs. So, so sad that I have not replaced that information with some more pertinent knowledge; and while we’re on the subject, why do I still remember the plot of the movie “Cliffhanger”? Furthermore, why do I still remember any pro-wrestling storyline I ever watched? I feel that I could make better use of this space in my brain…Anyhow; I got back on the road. I crossed the Atchafalaya Swamp Bridge and paid my ritual visit to the Tiger Truck Stop’s live tiger exhibit. As always, the tiger was depressed.

I stormed my way into New Orleans, ready to do some damage. I promised April that I would hold off on eating until she had arrived. I was not sure if my old Tulane advisor was in town or not, but I decided to check it out while I waited for her. Unfortunately, he was still in China speaking at the “Math ‘n’ Mao” conference.

I had to do a quick bit of work at Kinko’s on Tchapitoulas for my job, even though I was on vacation, to get something done before the weekend. When I was finished, April met me at the Kinkos. After a bit of dilly-dallying, we went to Mona’s Cafe on Calhoun for some Mediterranean grubbin’. Little did I know, I was in for a HUGE surprise.

Darleen Abadco, yes THE Darleen Abadco, met us at Mona’s. I found out all the exciting things going on with her. She’s going somewhere to podiatry school. It’s either Germany or Florida, but I cannot remember which. She’s just been bummin’ in NOLA, teaching Princeton Review classes and wearing some big sunglasses. I was jealous because I have wanted a pair that big or bigger for a long time.

After lunching, April and I collected my car from Kinkos and drove back to Melanie’s house, where we would be staying for the duration of this event. Neither of us could remember exactly how to get there, but between the two of us, we were able to cobble together a series of street names and land marks that approximated a set of directions to the house. For my part, I contributed the statue of the two polar bears having carnal relations and a street called Campwhore. There’s also a street called Butternuts around there, but I don’t think it actually helped in deriving a path to the house.

Anyhow, we finally got to Mel’s house. There were presents EVERYWHERE. Apparently, these Catholic wedding things are like a Jewish Bar or Bat Mitzvah; or an even better analogy is that they are much like a Jewish marriage ceremony and the events surrounding that. Well, except that there is usually no mention of Jesus in the Jewish ceremony.

Both April and I were pretty tired, so we vegged on the couch for a while. Mel was working on making some wedding paraphernalia. We talked to her for a bit and met her cousin Caroline. All of the sudden, I realized I had not actually picked up my tux. April drove me to the mall because I was just too worn out to really drive safely to the formalwear establishment.

At the front counter, I asked for my tux and then finally got the employees to confirm a suspicion of mine. The front counter does indeed have an upward facing nose came to make sure that rental customers are not going to make a mess on the tuxes with their runny noses. While I went back to try the tux on, April went over to the adjacent “Fabric and Non-Fabric-Items” store (it was either “Linens and Things” or “Polyester and Junk”, I cannot remember which). While I was trying the tux on, a couple of other gentlemen came in and began trying their tuxes on. For a second, I thought I recognized the voices, then I decided that I did not. When I came out to model it for the employees, I said something and the guy in one of the stalls called my name and came out. It was Hobbs. In the other stall was Mr. Keith. We had all just showed up at the same time by coincidence. My tux fit well, but Hobbs’ had some problems. First, the right coat arm was not stitched so it was just falling apart and way too long. As for the pants, the formalwear store had accidentally included formal buttless chaps rather than pants. They just did not look right at all. Chris then called me and asked if I would pick his tux up as well. The groom’s tux is “free” so it seemed to be a simple operation. However, when it came time to pay, his tux was twelve dollars. When I asked for an explanation, they told me that it was extra for the accessories (tie, vest, shoes, i.e. the things that make it a tux and not some weird European outfit to be worn without socks).

We parted from Hobbs and Mr. Keith and went to a Thai restaurant not far from the mall. April had been there before and said it was tasty. I must agree. This is the best Thai restaurant to which I have been. We ordered two main dishes, chicken with red curry and coconut milk and pad Thai. April also had a squid salad. She offered me some, but I felt that such consumption would not be prudent with a wedding in two days. Last time I was in a wedding (as best man), I broke out in a hives for a week beforehand due to my use of inappropriate laundry detergent on the road. The last time I ate squid, I had to go to the hospital the following day with pancreatitis (unrelated to the squid, but still…). So, putting two and two together, I was not going to be eating squid two days before a wedding in which I am participating.

Some people were going out that evening, but both April and I were tired from our early day drives, so we went back to Mel’s house to vege. At the house, most of the bridesmaids were creating their fake bouquets for the wedding rehearsal. Melanie Noir greeted me and congratulated me on my induction into the inner circle. I still am not sure what this is, but I think it was just a way to get me to contribute a gift for the stock the bar party. I fell for it, of course, because of my intense need to belong. We all talked for a while before the bridesmaids slowly went home. April and I watched some television including the wildly entertaining “Total Recall” starring the wildly popular Governator. In many ways, the plot of that movie is like Chris and Mel’s relationship. Schwarzenegger’s character, Quaid, thinks he is happy, but in reality something is amiss from his life. Before Mel and Chris were together, Chris may have thought it was all good, but something was missing. In the movie, it turns out Quaid’s memory has been erased. I am sure Chris has probably forgotten something at some point. In the movie, it turns out Quaid’s wife is really just an operative placed there to watch him. Chris…well I don’t think anything like that has happened to Chris, but maybe someone has lied to him. In the movie, there’s also this plotline about a bunch of mutants. In reality, we’re all mutants in some way, so this kinda fits with Chris and Mel’s story. Finally, in “Total Recall”, it turns out there’s this other woman on Mars that is Quaid’s true love. Chris’ true love, Melanie, builds rocket ships that eventually will make it to Mars, so in the end it all works out.

The next morning, April and I lounged around the house. Melanie went to her bridesmaid luncheon, held at the illustrious Metairie Country Club. I drove Uptown to bum around and have a tasty lunch at Cafe Ninos. I met up with April at a novelty cards store. She really likes this place. There was a whole section of greeting cards with pictures of unclothed gentlemen. We then drove back to Mel’s house to get ready for the wedding rehearsal. April helped me iron a shirt since I lack the precise motor skills to do such things correctly. I wore a handsome stripy shirt and brown pants with some Banana Republic shoes.

April and I were the last ones to get to the Saint Stephens for the rehearsal. Nothing had started yet, though, so it was all okay. At the rehearsal, we met Deacon Boo, who serves at the Seals church. He seemed to be a good man and an excellent person to lead this service. In leading the rehearsal, he told us that it basically would go for as a long as it took. So, if we chose to fool around, it would take longer than otherwise. Deacon Boo led the groomsmen to the back for a bit to explain our responsibilities and how no to screw up. The problem was that, due to the acoustics of the church and those of Deacon Boo’s voice, whenever he turned away from us while giving instructions, they became inaudible.

“Now, here’s the most important thing you need to know as a groomsman,” he said as he turned away from us, continuing, “Fruh, burbufer mber zefur buudser sagjsa no fubu.”

I figured that if I just followed Jonathan Hobbs, everything would somehow just work out. We then set up for a dry run of the ceremony. I got to meet the fourth member to Mel’s “clique”, Emily, who I was to escort down the aisle. When I stood ready to meet her for the escorting, she admonished me for not looking happy enough at her impending arrival to my arm. She threatened that I should make sure to look really happy at the real wedding, or else. Walking through the actual rehearsal was a painstakingly arduous process, and just when it seemed to get somewhere, nothing happened. We had to go through it ten times because I kept trying to escort the wrong person down the aisle.

After finally rehearsing correctly, it was time for the aptly named rehearsal dinner. When I was younger, I never really understood what the rehearsal dinner was because I had never been in a wedding (except for being a ring bearer at 5 which was such a traumatic experience that I have blocked the whole thing out of my head). As such, when I had been to family rehearsal dinners, I thought we were rehearsing how to have dinner for the following evening. I have since begun to understand what this actually means.

The rehearsal dinner was in a private room at tasty restaurant, Cannons. When we got there, most everyone else had already arrived. There were many family members whom I did not know present. There were also some new faces that were not relatives. Mainly, these were significant others of members of the wedding party.

There were many tasty foods served at this buffet style banquet including but not limited to: Tuesday Noodle Paradise; Chest of Catfish, Battered and Fried in Coconut Oil; the Jimmy-rice; toadstools and butternut squash served with mangos; and, of course, the New Orleans classic Camel yogurt for dessert. There was a fully open bar, which was nice. I helped myself to many peach nectars, served with cloves, of course.

As is customary, there were some speeches. Mr. Keith spoke as well as Ms. Sheila (Chris’ mother). The best man, Matt Miller, then took stage. He told a story about Chris attaching a PA system to an old jalopy, and then using the PA system to kindly request that slower drivers move aside so that he could pass through. Stephen Pesce piggy-backed on that speech to speak more about Chris. He used the metaphor of theme park rides. There are sissy rides like the teacups. There are regular rides like a normal roller coaster. Then, there are the so-called mega rides. These are the ones that make you feel as if your organs are being rearranged. Stephen told us that Christopher is a mega ride and that Melanie is getting ready to board this life-long mega ride. Rebecca Schambach, the honorable maid of…honor, spoke of various things. She inducted Chris into the “Clique” making him the first of four male members. Chris got up and spoke, thanking everyone, and thanking us groomsmen for all those things we have done or will do for him. Wedding party gifts were distributed at this point.

There was a bit mingling and then we sat down to watch the DVD slide presentation that Chris created with photographs of his and Mel’s family and friends. I believe it started out with “In My Life” by the Beatles. Pictures of Melanie growing up with her family came first. Those of Chris came next. I am not sure, but I believe Led Zeppelin was playing during this set of photos. Then came pictures of Mel and Chris with their friends in high school and, I believe, early college, then on up to the present. It was a well put together show. As an added bonus, Christopher used the search functionality of the photo album on this very site to find and use quite a few photos in the show.

After the dinner, some of us went to The Columns Hotel and met up with some former Tulanians who were in for the wedding. A couple of notables there were Meredith with the black hair and that guy Max. There were also some Mount Caramel girls whose names I can’t remember, as well as Becki Jeanes. Becki used to bully me in high school before attending Tulane, but she is cool now. She came with Hobbs. The bridesmaids bailed on us and did not show. It was good to catch up with some people. Eventually, I was getting tired as was April, so we went back to Mel’s house and watched the food channel. Mel stayed at her parents’ with the other bridesmaids while Chris stayed at his mother’s house.

Well, the day of the wedding finally had arrived. I believe we lounged around the house for a bit. April had gone out to do some things in the morning. Chris called and asked me if I would come get him from his mother’s house and take him to get his car, which he had left at the Columns in the interest of safety. I obliged. I ate a bit of leftover Thai food before I left and decided that I would not eat again until the reception after the wedding. When I dropped Chris at his car, he asked that I grab his tuxedo to bring to him at the place the groomsmen were getting ready for the wedding.

As I drove back Mel’s house, I noticed there was a great deal of traffic at the intersection to her neighborhood. At this intersection, there was a quite an accident. A Camry had broadsided an SUV, and the SUV lay on its side at the break in the median. I U-turned and drove to Mel’s house to get my camera. I snapped a few photos of the situation, which seemed okay as nobody was injured. Christopher called and told me that there was a planned excursion amongst the groomsmen to the Hooters on Veterans for one last manly meal before the wedding. I agreed to show, though I would not be consuming any wings. He also asked that I bring his tuxedo to him.

My tux was neatly repacked in its bag, but Chris had not really put his back together after trying it on. As such, when I began to look for his tux, I could only find his coat, pants, and shirt. There was no sign of the hanging bag, which contained the shoes, cuff links, and traditional groom makeup. I searched for a bit then called Chris to ask where he left it. He thought he had left it in the guest room with the rest of the tux. He told me to hunt for it and then call him if it still was lost. Let me tell you, I searched through that house. I looked under all the beds, in all the closets, and various drawers and cabinets. I must say that I do not like looking through people’s house like that because there is always something in one of these locations that is embarrassing to the owners. I found such a thing, but I will not write about it on this website…well, you twisted my arm, I will write about it. I found convincing evidence that Christopher Spring is running illegal cock fighting and numbers rings that span seven states and bring in close to five million dollars per year. The FBI has investigated him for two years now. I will say no more since I don’t want to be a gossip. However, without naming names, I will also say that I also found out that someone’s new wife used to be a big operator on the black market for prosthetic limbs.

Well, enough of that. I still could not find the rest of Chris’ tux. I called him back and told him. Chris said he would come back and help me look. I was beginning to panic a bit since the wedding was a few hours away. I decided to call April since she had been staying in that room. She told me that Melanie had taken the tux hanging bag. I called Chris to tell him. He, in turn, called up the bridesmaids and found out that Mel had put it in her car so that Chris would not forget it. Hey, even rocket scientists can make mistakes, especially when they are just hours away from getting married. Since Chris had to go get that car anyway, it was decided that I would just bring the tux with me to Stephen Pesce’s house, where we would be changing.

I met up with Chris at Hooters. None of the other groomsmen had shown. Apparently, there was some sort of miscommunication and the other groomsmen thought Christopher had canceled the excursion. Chris ordered some wings and beer, starting what would be approximately ten hours of drinking. I questioned the wisdom of eating grease-laden food-stuffs just hours before a wedding with a full Catholic Mass, but I was rebuffed and remained silent about such things. However, I did not keep silent enough to avoid putting my foot in my mouth. I will not relate the specifics of this incident for two reasons. First, it involved such a complicated chain of conversational foibles and misunderstandings that it would be hard to recount the whole story correctly. Secondly, a retelling would require me to divulge elements of the first redacted paragraph of the bachelor party story.

Well, after an uncomfortable and awkward lunch, I went back to Mel’s to wait to be picked up by Chris. In the interim, I took a shower and did all the getting ready activities short of putting the tuxedo on and shaving (which I forgot to do). To my surprise, Hobbs came to get me instead of Chris. We hopped into his truck and were on our way to Stephen Pesce’s house. Hobbs was drivin’ NOLA style if you catch my drift.

Everyone was already at Stephen’s house with the exception of Geoff who made sure to show up about as close to the actual wedding ceremony as could be comfortably achieved. I don’t know if it is a NOLA tradition or just something that goes on before all weddings, but there was a great deal of drinking by the groom and most of the groomsmen as well as the ushers. There was some top shelf bourbon. There was also vodka and beer with added caffeine. I do not understand why anyone would want to drink beer with caffeine. Chris said it was disgusting. Everyone was watching “News Radio” on DVD when we got there. It was good to see “News Radio” again since I have not seen it since high school. We got dressed and took pictures of ourselves. There was time to burn so we hung around for a while. It was then decided that we should head over toward the church. We still had some time before we were due to arrive, though, so we went to Fat Harry’s to enjoy one last bachelor bar outing (a sort of mini last-minute bachelor party).

There were beers all around with the exception of one loser who says he can’t drink because his pancreas hurts. Chris was getting a bit nervous about the enormity of the event. What better way to relieve this anxiety than do a little gambling on the ubiquitous electronic poker machines in the bar. I don’t know if he won or not, but I got a couple of good pictures of him in the gambling booth. Groomsman Geoff was still nowhere to be found, so the three ushers had an odd-man-out/paper-rock-scissors tournament to see who would take his place. Poodle Mullet was victorious, but it was for naught as Geoff did show up at the church. About five minutes before we left, there was a huge bar fight. I hit some guy with a stool. Well, that may not have happened. I did a lot of drugs in the eighties. I am not sure if there even was a wedding or if it was just some dream. As a matter of fact, I am not sure where I am right now.

As the time of the wedding drew near, someone paid for the drinks and we left Fats. Christopher decided that he wanted to arrive to his wedding in the bed of Hobbs old truck. Some of Hobbs yard work equipment was still in the back of the truck. Chris got ahold of a machete and hunting knife. So, he rode to the wedding in the back of the truck in his tuxedo, holding a beer, machete, and hunting knife.

We got the church right on time. Inside, most of the non-bridal party participants were there. We mingled in the entrance way for a bit. Some lady ambushed me with a boutonniere. I caught Meg Young red-handed stealing wedding programs so that she could hoard them. I told her to go to confessional, but I do not think she did. April was there and let me put my things in her car.

On the way back in, I ran into two very excitable photographers. They wanted the grooms party to come out and take photos. Taking photos is not the most memorable part of a wedding, but I must say that one of the photographers did stand out. Whenever she would take a photograph, she would to get our attention, as if we were children, by waving her hand and saying “woo woo!”. She did this whether or not there were any children present.

At the preordained time, the groom and his henchmen made their way to the area behind the alter where we would hide from the masses until Mass started. In the back, we just hung out and talked for a while. Hobbs had his portable television on watching Tulane baseball play on the WB network. As an added bonus, after the game, WB was going to be showing an all night ‘Sister, Sister’ marathon, which would probably keep Hobbs occupied for the evening. The bishop showed up and went into the rectory to prepare himself. He seemed like a no-nonsense kind of bishop, so Hobbs kept the television on the downlow from him. Deacon Boo seemed cool with it, though. I worried about that television but figured that it would not make an appearance during the actual wedding ceremony. Deacon Boo gathered us just before the wedding started to say a prayer for the wedding to go well and for Tulane to win.

The time to act arrived. Following Tom’s lead, we went along our preordained path to meet up with the bridesmaids as they came down the aisle. Now, the beginning of New Orleans weddings are like pro-wrestling events. There is an announcer that gives your stats as you walk the aisle. “Accompanied to the altar by his manager, Emily ‘we met yesterday’ Roscher, from Houston, Texas, weighing 176 lbs, GREEK LIGHTNING!” There was also some really cool pyrotechnics.

When I met Emily, I made sure to be really excited looking as she had ordered me to be the day before. I heard later on that people were commenting on how excited we looked to see each other. So, I guess threats of bodily harm can elicit good performance.

Once all the wedding party was in its proper location on the altar, some weddingy music started playing and then Melnee came down the aisle, being escorted by Mr. Keith. She had a veil over her face in order to keep her from accidentally giving the evil eye and cursing people, as tradition dictates the bride is able to do. They got to their places at center stage, and then we were able to sit down. Rebecca, the maid of honor, was in charge of straightening Mel’s long train. The best man, Matt Miller, was in charge of straightening Chris’s extra-long tux tails.

It was time to get down to business. Deacon Boo ran most of the service, but the bishop was there to operate the mass and do the actual wedding because that is how these things work. I don’t think I have ever been to full mass, so I had to constantly whisper questions about the meaning of the procedural nuances of the service to Hobbs. I found out that Deacon Boo has a day job. I also found out that Hobbs might want to be a deacon one day. Deacon Hobbs…I like it!

I think, though, that the rules of being a deacon might prohibit watching television while sitting on the altar of a church during Mass. Early on, I happened to glance over at Hobbs and he had his miniature television. I remembered then, that he and Chris had worked out a series of codes based on coughs and grunts to communicate the current status of the game from Jonathan to Chris and Mr. Keith. I thought it was a joke. Apparently not. In my mind, I was worried Mel might see and not appreciate the television at her wedding.

Sure enough, while a sermon was going, Mel turned in our direction and was looking directly at Hobbs. I thought this was a bad thing, but I should have known better. The Seals’ are the most hardcore Tulane fans in existence. Sure enough, Hobbs gives the hand signal tell Mel that Tulane was up four to zero in the bottom of the fifth. Then Mel whispered this information to Chris. Then Hobbs gave hand signals back to Mr. Keith.

So that was the nature of the wedding, many surreptitious baseball status reports. There was someone at the front talking about God and a bit about marriage as well. Deacon Boo talked about knowing Melnee for a long time and about getting to know Chris. He could see how much they loved each other. Megan Mikals sang Ave Maria, although I just thought it was someone that sounded like her. The wedding vows were read and rings were exchanged. Matt Miller resisted the urge to eat the rings before the wedding. (Good for you, Matt!) After the vows, it was time for the communion. There was an extensive procedure for turning the bread into the body of Christ and the wine into the blood of Christ. Hobbs narrated me through it. Because of the logistics involved, they did not give out the blood to people in this situation. They did, however, give out wafers as the body of Christ. We were instructed beforehand that if we were not to receive it, we should put our heads down and be blessed.

The ceremony ended in the reverse of how it began. Mel and Chris escaped into a limo. Then the groomsmen escorted their bridesmaids in reverse order. We immediately boarded an airport shuttle to be taken to the reception. I was excited as I had eaten nothing but water since noon. The shuttle was pretty rowdy. Something happened in the back of the bus that was controversial, but I could not find out what it was, so I gave up trying. The flask was on the bus, as well. Hobbs was still watching TV.

At the reception, the wedding party was immediately whisked upstairs to take post-nuptial photographs. I was starving, but I complied. Fortunately, there were beverages and tea sandwiches located in the picture area. The crazy photographer from before the wedding was there, dancing around to make sure that the photographees were watching her. Someone commented that she needed to have a hand puppet. Tulane won its baseball game against Alabama, I think. Many of us were ecstatic, especially Hobbs and Mr. Keith. We took a variety of pictures both classical and new-age in style.

At the conclusion of my photograph duties, I went downstairs and made a beeline for the food acquisition area. There was a long line, but I did not care. I was going to stand in it and get me some food ASAP. April went to fetch drinks for herself and me. As the line progressed, I chatted with some people. At the buffet, there was an assortment of strange foods of which I have never heard. There was something called virtual cheese. The main course was manwiches, which was okay with me. I took my fill of these victuals and found a table marked ‘reserved’. I figured it was reserved for me, so I sat down with April and commenced with the eating.

Eventually, Mel and Chris came downstairs. They were announced and presented to the guests as the newly crowned husband and wife duo, in all their glory. Then, they were made to dance for us. I do not remember the song, but it seemed to work for them. Then there was the traditional father-of-the-bride/bride dance combined with the mother-of-the-groom/groom dance. I was eating some beef for part of the first dance, then I went to take pictures with my trusty camera. Then each member of the wedding party was made to dance with his or her counterpart. I danced with Emily to the tune of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World”. I also felt the need to sing it as we were dancing. I found that I don’t know most of the words, so I mumbled my way through parts of it, but I don’t think Emily noticed.

There was a bouquet throwing, but I don’t remember who got it. Chris artfully retrieved a garter from Melnee’s leg while they played some racey music. He threw it to the single guys like me. It fell well short of us, and at first, no one went for it. I could have had another garter for my collection, but I decided that, since I already caught one, I would let someone else acquire a guarantee of marriage. Again, I do not remember who got it. I suppose I would remember if it was someone I knew.

I danced with some other folks including Mel Noir. Then it was time for the cutting of the cakes. I took some photos of this and then sat back and watched the spectacle and grandeur of the cake cutting procedure. First, a random lady was brought in to feel Chris’ right bicep, as the New Orleanian tradition dictates. Then the cake was cut and more pictures were taken. There were some composed pictures of the cake, two glasses of champagne (that the couple had drank in that way where they intertwined their arms together and drank from each other’s glass. I got worried because, who knows what kind of germs could be on those glasses!), and the wedding certificate.

There was a swirl of dancing and socializing once all these duties were completed. I danced with April a few times and stepped on her feet in the process. Of course, the bride and groom were responsible for greeting everyone one so they did not get a moment of respite. I tricked Melnee into taking a picture with me. Woah, was she angry. It was then time to do the “Second Line”. This is a dance where everyone is dancing in a line waving handkerchiefs. The line is lead by the bride and groom. I have read that the bride’s father carries a parasol in the tradition (I don’t know if this is true or not), but at this wedding, Mel carried the parasol.

Things began to wind down a bit. At midnight, the deejay played the Looney Tunes conclusion song, the one where Porky the Pig, that walking side of delicious ham, says, “That’s All Folks!”. Mel and Chris left without the fanfare usually associated with the exit of the main attraction. There was no throwing of rice, popcorn, bubbles, or birdseed. Chris gave his groomsmen a hug. And then they were gone. I thanked Ms. Barbara and Mr. Keith for the excellent festivities.

Plans had been brewing toward the end of the evening as to what we should do after the reception. Somehow, outside of my presence, it was decided that we would descend upon classy dance club, Grits (the one attached to F&M’s, for the uninitiated). April was tired and had consumed a bit too much absinth, so I took her back to Mel’s. I changed into my patented walking shoes and returned to Grit’s.

There was much dancing at this establishment. The wedding party and friends of the bride and groom comprised a good portion of the Grits populace. I will spare the reader the specifics of the dancing arrangements, though I will share some highlights.

-I accidentally kicked Scott Wolf while dancing. Take that Wagner’s Meat and Chicken Box!

-Hobbs was in rare form. He was a dancing machine.

-Meg really wanted them to play “Sweet Home Alabama”, and she made me make the request. An hour later, it was played.

-Unfortunately, Ted Brogan did not show up.

-There were no stabbings outside of Grits this time.

I decided to leave at a reasonable hour (4ish) so that I could sleep enough to be driving home the next day.

In the morning, I helped April load some stuff into her car and then saw her off. I communed with Megan and Ryan for brunch. I took the gift from Amanda to Colleen and Jane. As I suspected, it was drugs for both of them; orange sunshine for Colleen and powder of San Felipe for Jane. I then discussed current events over bubble tea with Miriam and Jake. Unfortunately, all of these people had been busy on Thursday and Friday, so I did not get to hang with them as much as I would have liked. Next time, though, I will visit NOLA with no specific purpose except to visit. I ran into Megan Mikals, Shannon Valence, and Jacob Shackelford while drinking the tea.

During the drive back, I reflected on the wedding and my stay in New Orleans, and would have to consider both overall successes. I had a blast and it was great to see two friends get married. I know they will have a long and happy life together, and when a kid comes along, perhaps they will consider naming him Kirk, or Kirka if he is a she.

The Invitation

The day finally arrived. It was Saturday, and my duties as a house sitter and dog caretaker for my aunt and uncle had concluded. After initiating a final feeding and dishwasher cycle, I drove back to my apartment to clean up and begin my journey to New Iberia, Louisiana to witness the joining of two people together in the bonds of Christian marriage.

Caroline Voth, whom I have known since she was a freshman at Tulane, was set to marry Roy Johnston, a well groomed lawyer from South Africa who came to pursue graduate study at Tulane before returning to South Africa. He also happens to be a really nice guy. I would expect nothing less for Caroline, though. Roy and Caroline could not be more perfect for each other.

I managed to get on the road nice and early. After initially going the wrong way on the West Loop, I got my bearings and made it I-10. It was raining for my entire journey, which was not good since the wedding ceremony was to be set outside. The drive was pretty much the standard to-New-Orleans drive until I reached Lafayette. I stopped and had some Popeye’s chicken for lunch, which brought back the memories of such things during many Tulane study breaks. Near Lafayette, I had to hop on some state highways to make my way south toward New Iberia. After some confused driving, I made it to LA highway 14 and my hotel, the Holiday Inn. I took a nap and then got ready for the wedding. Driving to the wedding location was also confusing. I found that in a less populated area, such as this was, things are spaced further apart than in a city, and there are less sign postings telling a driver where he is. I started driving in the wrong direction before turning around. The invitation’s directions made the wedding site seem not too far from the hotel, but it was. As the time of the ceremony approached, I began to worry that I was lost and going to miss the ceremony. I thought Caroline might get angry and have Roy beat me up for letting her down. Then, in the distance, I saw a long alley of what appeared to be oak trees, and I knew that had to be the Rip Van Winkle Gardens.

I made it in just before the ceremony began. The actual ceremony was set on the bank of a body of water. It had stopped raining, fortunately, so the ceremony was able to go as planned. I sat in an empty row, which happened to be behind my former suitemate, Paul, from Tulane who initially introduced me to Caroline. He was there with his fellow band members. Behind us played an orchestra of sorts playing the standard wedding accompaniment. The orchestra began playing the entrance music for the wedding party. I could not see very well, so I was not sure who all the people coming from afar were, but my best guess is that the people in the pink dresses were the bridesmaids and the people in tuxes were groomsmen. I knew a couple of the bridesmaids, Alyssa (Greer) Crockett and Corinne Ritchie, from Tulane. One of the groomsmen was Alyssa’s husband, Myron, who was not her husband the last time I saw her.

The actual service was rather efficient. The minister introduced Caroline and Roy and asked for a supportive response from the families and then the guests. Then there was a prayer. The hymn “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee” was sung by two men. There were two readings from the Christian Bible, Romans 12:1-2 and 9-18 and Philippians 4:4-9. Two men then sang a duet. After some more words, there was another prayer. Caroline and Roy then exchanged vows and rings, though I could not hear this part. The minister declared the wedding complete and blessed them and then us. We were dismissed and made our way into the reception hall, immediately behind where I was sitting.

The reception was a blast. In one corner of the room was a big brass band that played excellent music for about 4.5 hours. In front of the band was a dance floor. In the next corner was a beverage station with all manners of wine, champagne, and cola drinks. The other corners were filled with food distribution stations involving all sorts of meats, cheeses, and pastas. Then there were the wedding cakes, but we were not supposed to touch those.

I talked with my old suitemate Paul, briefly, before making my move towards the food. At that point, I ran into Shuey, Caroline’s old roomie. Shuey is my hero because once, while living with Caroline, she hid in a closet for forty minutes as part of an elaborate prank. Somehow, in the course of getting food and drink, I did not have enough hands to use serving spoons to put food on my place. Fortunately, Shuey was able to assist me as she had thought ahead regarding keeping her hands free. As we moved to sit and eat, the wedding party made their dramatic entrance and Caroline and Roy quickly commenced to the ritual “first dance” while the band played a special tune. Then there were other traditional wedding dances, Bride/Father, Groom/Mother, and Second-Cousin-Twice-Removed/Third-Cousin’s-Dog-Groomer, among others. In all, there were forty-seven traditional dances that had to take place before the reception could continue.

While these dances took place, I went with some people I had met to tour the gardens. A couple of fraternal twins who knew Caroline had worked at the gardens in the past and knew their way around, as well as some of its history. They told me all about the silent film star who owned the estate originally. The body of water on whose bank the wedding took place used to be much smaller, and as a result, we could see a chimney sticking out of the water from a house that used to be on dry land. Apparently, someone punctured a salt dome in the water in the early eighties, which drained the water for a while. Then it filled back up later. The gardens were in a bit of disrepair as they had apparently been without a caretaker or permanent owner for a period of time. They were in the process of being restored. Despite this fact, it was still a beautiful place to have a wedding. There were peacocks in the trees cawing at use continually, which scared some of the people touring the gardens.

After the tour, we made our way back to the reception just in time to catch the last ceremonial dance. There was much mingling to be done, so I quickly acquired a cool beverage and made my way around, greeting various family members that I knew and a few that I did not. I found Alyssa Crockett and her new husband Myron, who I had not met until that point. I chatted with them for a while in order to catch up our current lives. Caroline and Roy moved into our area and I had my first chance to congratulate them. Roy commented that I had chosen to not wear a dress to the ceremony after all, which threw me off until I remembered that I had suggested to Caroline on the phone that I might do so while Roy was in the room. They departed to proceed with cake cutting procedures. Alyssa had also moved away for a bit, and I began chatting with Myron. We talked for a long while. We also ate wedding cake, which was good. The icing was a bit too sweet for me, but it was otherwise and excellent pastry.

Then came the dancing. There was quite a bit of that. I could get into the specifics of who did what dances, but that would just take too long. I would like to point out, though, that Corinne is a prodigious dancing fiend. I was impressed. I danced quite a bit, though not as much as some people. At some point in the evening, Caroline and Roy exited the premises to change out of their wedding apparel into civilian clothing in order to be comfortable when they left in the limo. The guests danced for a bit longer before assembling outside to see the newlyweds off. We all got Fourth of July sparklers in lieu of rice in order to avoid the objections of people who want to protect the birds. These weren’t those dinky sparklers either. These were the kind made from Magnesium that can be made into sparkler bombs. Finally Caroline and Roy made their way down the brick path and we lit our celebratory pyrotechnic displays. They boarded the hummer limo and off they went to start a life together. We mingled outside for a bit. I chatted with Caroline’s cousin, Edna, who is German, I believe. I also re-met Caroline’s younger sister, Julia and chatted with her for a bit. The guests went back in and danced for a while longer until the ban