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.

A few weeks back, I was “riding” one of those phony bicycles at the YMCA when an old high school lacrosse teammate, Scott, came over to say hello. We had chatted before at the Y, catching up on the seven years of events (marriages, babies resulting from said marriages, fist fights, food fights, cock fights, arrests, impending arrests, and allegations of malfeasance). After chatting it up, Scott invited me to a crawfish boil/pool party he was having at his house, which he shares with my friend Tim and two other guys from high school. There was also going to be plenty of spicy deer sausage, which sounded good. I agreed to the terms of his invitation and whipped out my Palm Unit to electronically pencil the party in for the following Saturday afternoon.

On the day of the shindig, I was running a little behind because I had to see a man about a horse. I finally got to the party. As I was walking in, I ran into Lambert, from high school with his new wife and parents. They were carrying some sort of meat product with them, I presume to contribute to the party. I did not have any meat products with me, but I figured Tim and Scott would not mind. Inside, I ran into a few people I remembered including a friend’s younger sister who had been at Loyola New Orleans for part of the time I was at Tulane. We chatted for a bit about Katrina and whatnot.

Out back by the pool, the first person I ran into was Scott. The first question he asked was about what kind of meat product I had brought. I told him that I had brought no such product. He seemed momentarily perturbed, but he recovered and offered me various beverages. I settled on a soda drink. All around the pool were various people from the past, some of whom I have seen nor talked to in seven years. I found out many interesting things about these people who I have not seen in so long.

Mindy is a teacher and she was wearing large, complicated earrings. B-Frazier works for the Astros and hangs out with Vince Young. I tried to trick him into giving me tickets by ingratiating myself, but he saw through my ruse. His brother Matt is a law student at U of H who has a penchant for looking at women’s hands for wedding rings. A girl named Ryanne owns a house and sells insurance. She helped me get insurance on my potential beard hair just in case some sort of accident renders me unable to grow a beard in the future. Another girl, named Jody, is a food critic. Travis was not wearing a shirt and boiling crawfish and deer sausage. I caught up with Travis during one of his brief breaks from the fire. He has substantial beard hair configured in goatee format. He does not have it insured though, so I told him to talk to Ryanne. Travis sells orthopedic medical devices like metal knees. He told me if my orthopedic surgeon could not fix my knee, I should go to his (Travis’) father. I relayed that to my orthopedic surgeon, which caused some major strife in the orthopedic surgeon community. A guy named Clark was there. He graduated from UVa and is now working as a word worker, crafting high quality wooden pieces that border between art and furniture. If anyone is in the market for such pieces, they should check out Clark’s portfolio. Clark’s main squeeze from high school works at the museum of science maintaining the yellow swirly coin donation station (I don’t know what she does, but that is my dream job, so I hope she is getting a chance to live my dreams). Adam was there with his wife Sara. Adam is helping to develop a strip center and Sara is pregnant. They were going over possible names. I suggested Svetlana for a girl, but they did not think that was a good idea. Nobody ever does. Blake came in later with his wife. He is becoming an expert in the Middle East at UT. We discussed how my attempts at undermining his life had not been working. He is now eleven feet tall and had a popped collar. He claimed the collar was because of the sun, but I did not believe him. There was one guy there I did not know, who had a Malowitzian mustache. He could have been one of our old football coach’s sons. Young Coach Malowitz vomited in various strategic locations throughout the house and went to sleep on a floor. There were also various parents there including Tim’s and Adams. Guys named John and Daniel dabble in the real estate arts. Another Tim and a third generation Walter are on some island mining sand. James Schlessinger is in Jamaica doing Peace Corps. There was also a guy there with whom I attended St. Francis many years ago. His sister was in my grade. I recognized him and said hello before realizing that I had committed myself to a conversation with someone with whom I had never been friends. Fortunately, he defused the situation by abruptly walking away when I got distracted and turned my head for a moment.

I spent a great deal of time chatting with Timmy and eating the crawfish and deer sausage. The deer sausage had been stuffed with cheese and jalapeños. It was quite spicy; so much so, in fact, that when Timmy ate it he turned extremely red and started crying. He turned so red, in fact, that it hurt my eyes and I could feel the heat coming off his face. I am pretty sure I saw some steam come from his ears. Then, he started crying. At first I thought that the spicy heat was just making his eyes water, but then I realized that he was actually getting emotional over the amount of heat in the sausage. Tim mumbled for a few minutes then started trying to drink a bunch of beer to quench the fire. I don’t think it helped much. Later, while I was talking to somebody, Jennifer finally showed up and unexpectedly slugged me in the stomach in retaliation for my witnessing Tim’s complete meltdown due to his inability to successfully ingest the deer sausage. I also felt that she was warning me not to tell anybody about what happened. However, I will not let her scare me. She has been using her fierce temper and penchant for unmitigated physical violence to get her way for years. It is time for Jenn’s reign of terror to end; that is why I am offering this complete retelling of Tim’s inability to eat spicy foods without becoming emotional and red.

The situation began to deteriorate as the evening pressed on. Many of the parents and married folks had left, leaving the people who had been in the sun all day drinking beer. After the sun had gone down, I sat with the tardy Maria and her man-engineer. They had been in Austin and arrived late for the party. We covered a wide variety of topics, including math and economics majoring, squeezing the last drops of oil out of seemingly expended wells, law school, Philadelphia, PhDs in math, and new music. Maria’s man-engineer recommended a band called The Stroke, saying they were better than the over produced and engineered popular singers of today. A few days later, I listened to this band. Unfortunately, they are of the genre of “post punk”, and they sounded pretty punky to me; punk is one of my least favorites types of music, right above popular country and gangsta rap. However, I have forgiven him for this recommendation as I am sure amongst people who like that kind of music, The Stroke is highly regarded. I commented on my affinity for Paul Simon, in particular his Graceland album, so Maria’s man-engineer had Scott put on in vinyl format prior to Scott’s becoming incoherent from the day of beer and crawfish.

As things died down, I went out front and sat on the lawn with Tim and Jenn. Clark joined us out front and we had a frank exchange of ideas about a variety of current topics. We could hear the folks inside throwing each other in the pool. Then they finally went inside and settled down to watch one of the Lord of the Rings on DVD. Finally, it was time to go home. Clark rode his bike all the way back to West U. I left Timmy and Jenn sitting on the lawn and went home.

As I left, I could not help but feel disillusioned over the deer sausage incident. Timmy has always been the epitome of manliness, and he has always claimed to have an affinity for all things manly. This was not the first time I have felt misled. When Timmy came back from Spain, he began expressing a strong interest in Johnny Cash. I figured he had always had this interest and that he had just started speaking about it recently. He has an appreciation for Johnny Cash’s manliness. I came to find out on New Years Eve 2003-2004 that he had discovered Johnny Cash in Spain. That revelation totally rocked my world. I had actually been listening to Johnny Cash for a while at that point, trying to figure out why Timmy liked him so much. I found that he had many excellent songs, which are now on my play lists. I was able to get past that incident, but now with this deer sausage thing, I don’t really know what to do. Men aren’t supposed to get emotional over deer sausage. I suppose I will eventually get past it. All in all, though, I had a good time, and it was interesting to see how everyone changed. I will probably see very few of them again until the high school reunion rolls around, since I am moving to Philadelphia soon. That reunion should be interesting.

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

There is a pact among dudes that says elements of the bachelor party cannot be divulged. I subscribe to this belief.

As I understand it, Jose played golf with his brothers and cousin at a nice par 3 course. I already had plans at this time to watch Tulane win its game against Oregon State in the College World Series (ROLL WAVE!!).

Later, Jose called me and told me of the plans for the evening. At the prescribed time, I got in my car and drove somewhere. I stayed there for a while. Some things happened. Then I came home and went to sleep. It was an excellent evening.

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.

Celebrating the end to bachelorhood by eating till it hurts

Last weekend finally arrived. I got out of work later than expected and ended up driving to New Orleans mostly in the darkness of night. This was okay as I am finding that I enjoy night driving. I stopped and ate at my favorite Waffle House on the western edge of Beaumont. I had two poached eggs, hash browns, toast, grits, and coffee. The guy working there remembered me from the previous time I had eaten there. It had been his first day and he was quiet and nervous. He was much more gregarious this time around. I got into New Orleans around midnight and met up with Megan and Ryan at a house party. We hung out for a while then went back to Megan’s apartment and I crashed on the guest bed.

I got up the next morning and chatted with the people living at the apartment before showering and dressing for golf. I grabbed a bit to eat and headed down Carrolton to the City Park Golf course to meet up with Chris Spring and the others who were playing golf. I was wearing my flannel, plaid golfing hat when I arrived. My hair had gotten so long that Hobbs asked if my hair sticking out was part of a novelty hat. He collected money for Chris’ pot…so he would not have to pay for anything throughout the evening. I shared a golf cart with Uncle Ran Ran while Hobbs paired with Chris and Matt Miller with Poodle-Mullet.

While I know how to hold a golf club correctly, I am so out of practice that my swings were erratic. I somehow managed to drive a ball diagonally in such a way that it hit the golf cart of the people behind us. They were not good players either, though, so they did not get angry. There was much cigar smoking and beer drinking as we played the holes. I bought some coke along the way. I don’t know who won, but I know that I lost. I ended the day with a +67. However, I did make an honest par on the 11th hole including a nice putt. This accomplishment is negated, though, by the fact that I lost my pitching wedge. It’s with Rha now. Chris did pretty well smoking cigars and wearing flip-flops as he played. He could drive far enough to tee off from the professional tee. He even made par a couple of times.

After four and a half hours of golfing, we parted ways planning to regroup at 7:00 pm for dinner at the Crescent City Steakhouse. I took the cart around the course to look once more for pitching wedge, but it was gone. I drove back to Megan’s apartment, but nobody was home at the time. They were downtown and on their way back, so I had some time to burn. I stopped by Sara’s house to say hello and hang out. Then it was back to Megan’s to shower quickly and head to the steakhouse.

We had reservations in the special back room of the steakhouse. It looked like it was once a bathroom or (as Matt Miller said) a slaughterhouse. There were around 15-20 guys there to celebrate the manliness of eating steaks. There was a basketball game on television that made it even better. Chris ordered the porterhouse for two, which was a huge slab of meat. We all ordered normal steaks and various side dishes. Randal once heard about COURVOISIER® liquor in a rap song and decided to order glasses for himself and Chris. It turns out that even though it is cool to drink COURVOISIER® in rap songs, it does not taste good. The steaks were pretty good. They were drenched in butter. Chris’ steak was huge and it looked tasty. He ate his way through about half the steak before stopping in pain. He could not even drink his COURVOISIER® so Hobbs and Randal shot the glasses down at once ($16 downed in a second with no chaser).

Once we finished our meal, we split into our cars and regrouped at Gordon Biersch, which is attached to the Harrah’s casino parking garage. We spent a while there letting our food digest and drinking things. We discussed sports and politics, two very manly topics. We also got our Harrah’s parking validated, quite a manly procedure as well. After a while, we left to start the next phase of the evening. On the way out, I realized I had to run back in to drop something off. Then we were on our way.

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We made our way back to Harrah’s and went inside the casino. Once inside, we were bathed in the background noise of hundreds of slot machines. I did not like that. We walked around for a bit before stopping at the roulette wheel where Chris played for a while. We were all tired, so we decided to call it a night. Chris wanted to go to Tastee doughnuts, so Hobbs said he would meet back up with us after he dropped off Randal and Matt at home. When Chris and I were halfway to Metairie, Jeremy called. Apparently we had left him at Harrah’s while he gambled at the blackjack table. He had won some money.

Hobbs went back for Jeremy and they met us at Tastee. This is an interesting establishment. It’s kind of dirty and the lady running this particular one was a bit crusty and hard to understand. There was an off duty security guard also eating there. While we consumed our doughnuts, a man in a tie and a woman in an overcoat and nice strappy shoes came and sat down for a while. I thought it was weird that she never took off her overcoat, and I began to wonder if she was even wearing anything under the overcoat because she had it wrapped tightly around herself. As she was leaving, Chris speculated that, as a couple, these two may have just met and exchanged money. If that was the case, I have to wonder why this man would take her to Tastee. It seemed that the woman heard our conversation because when she got into this guy’s car, she gave us a knowing salute through the window. I took Chris home and crashed at his place. This was truly a manly day.

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 band stopped playing. I took Corinne and Shuey back to their hotel and went back to mine. I was worn out and fell asleep quickly.

I got up the next morning, packed up and cleaned up to go to an Easter Brunch at Caroline’s aunt’s house. I got a little lost, so by the time I got there, I had missed the Easter prayers and everyone was already eating. There was some good down-home Southern Louisianan cooking. They have this thing called grits and grillades. We all know what grits are. In this case they were cheese grits. Grillades is a sort of beef stew. This isn’t beef stew like Gussell used to make. This stuff had great flavor and was in an excellent, thin, broth-like liquid. I ate my first serving separately before seeing Caroline’s father, Mr. Rick, take a serving to grits topped with grillades. I was then informed that this is the standard Southern Louisiana way of eating these two items. I sat with Mr. Rick, Corinne, Shuey, Roy’s brother Paul, and her cousins that are finishing their residencies (I am so sorrowful that I have forgotten their names). The breakfast was wonderful. Miss Prissy made homemade biscuits that were excellent. There was Southern iced tea and coffee. There was pound cake for desert. I spent some time talking with various people. After saying extensive goodbyes to the family members from both sides as well as other guests, I headed to my car and made my way to I-10 for the trip home. It was a wonderful wedding weekend and I wish the new couple “All the Best” (To use a term that most of the South African people I met used as a bid farewell). I know they will do well, though I do wonder about Caroline adjusting to life in Johannesburg and South Africa in general. Many have described President Thabo Mbeki as being quite aloof. Some say he has an air of intellectual elitism. I do not attest to the veracity of these statements, but I hope that Caroline will not be deterred in navigating the political spectrum of this wonderful country. I also hope she exercises caution when approaching the South African stinkwood tree. They are different than the stinkwoods she normally encounters. I am sure she will adapt, though. It takes a certain toughness to end up in a rainforest at night and survive, unscathed.

…or a gathering of people read a teleprompter.

The evening finally arrived. I left work around 4:30 and headed over to Jennifer’s house to collect her so we could make our way to Amanda’s place of work and then to the event location. Jennifer took a few moments to finish getting ready then we were on our way. On the way to Amanda’s, I commented that I had no idea where this thing was located, which made Jennifer a bit upset. Fortunately, when we arrived at Amanda’s office, she produced a copy of the directions. Turns out that this shindig was taking place outside the beltway.

We got onto Westheimer and slowly rode the traffic river to the Wilcrest area. We arrived at the Omni at about 6:30. After wandering through the hotel, we found the conference room where the evening was being held. There were printed nametags set out for all the people who had RSVPed. Apparently, even though I had done so, they saw fit to not print a nametag for me. In front of the room, the head to the Houston Tulane Alums, a guy named Alan, stood and greet folks as they entered. I remember Alan from my days as a student though I do not believe we ever actually met. He dated someone I knew. Also out front was Mark Jaegger, a noisy engineer who lived a few doors down from my room in Butler freshman year.

We made our way inside. I saw Peter Yochum, but before I could say anything to him, Jennifer and Amanda made a beeline for the chap serving drinks. I followed and we were supplied with beverages. We moved back toward Peter, surveying the food layout as we walked. As I closed in on Peter, I realized he was talking with the retired head of Student Affairs, my old boss, Martha Sullivan. She greeted me with a hug and we all talked about what we were doing. It turns out, at one point, she was also Amanda’s boss. Peter revealed some exciting news about himself that I will not divulge here so that he may be the one to deliver such good news.

After chatting for a bit, we made our way to the food distribution area and collected weird hors d’oeuvres, some pastas, and a side of beef. We sat down and began eating. After a few minutes, Tim walked in and quickly fetched some food and drink so he could join us. Also joining us was a prospective Tulane student from Memorial high school and her mother. Alan, the greeting guy, started the show by talking a bit before introducing Martha. She spoke before turning over festivities to the closed circuit feed of the live event from New Orleans. She then acquired some food and came to sit at our table.

The event started out with a voice-over announcement of the event followed by a camera making its way into the event venue that consisted of a stage set that could be the precursor to a set for a talk show called “The Scott Cowen Show”. The lady who sang a song about New Orleans during my graduation reprised this role, singing the same song to get the show rolling. She is a good singer and I again enjoyed her song.

Scott Cowen was introduced and said some stuff about the fund raising initiative Tulane was undertaking. They are two thirds of the way to $700 million. After a few other things, he introduced character actor Harold Sylvester, whom I perceived to be the emcee for the evening. He talked for a while about his experience as the first African American basketball player at Tulane as well as his time in the theatre department. There was a discussion of other entertainment personalities that had attended Tulane. Evan Farmer of the TLC show “While You Were Out” came out and spoke for a bit about his Tulane experience. I got the feeling that Mr. Farmer thought he was a bit more popular and funny than he actually may be. Perhaps I am wrong, though, since I am out of the TV loop.

From Evan Farmer, the show transitioned to an awkward ten minutes of footage of the antique road show where some guy is appraising some clay pieces. Only at the end of the footage did they put a caption telling us that this is pottery from Newcomb College. It was a weird interlude to say the least.

I don’t remember exactly how things played out from then on, but I will give a run down of what I saw. There was a reunion of a campus singing-group known as the Tulanians. They introduced various successful folks from the business world that attended Tulane including the founders of Yahoo and Netscape. One of the old Press the Meat moderators also was a Tulane Alum. We also got to see various folks of scientific distinction who either attended or are currently attending Tulane. The most impressive of these were two doctors, one who played football at Tulane and was offered a chance to play in the NFL and another who was a Tulane med student while playing baseball for the World Series Champion Yankees. We heard from various current and former sports stars including recent graduate and NFL running back Mwelde Moore.

At this point, I feel I must bring up the fact that everyone seemed to be reading off cue cards or a teleprompter. Mr. Moore seemed like a robot when he talked. The problem, though, was not the teleprompter itself; I would not put on a show like this without one. It was the fact that everyone seemed to have gotten his or her script the morning of the show. Nobody seemed prepared. In fact, much of the show seemed a bit thrown together. At one point, Scott Cowen read directly off the teleprompter in a monotonic voice, “Well…this has been…a magical evening”. He then introduced a Law Student who had written the theme song to our magical evening. To quote a couple of lines from the song, “I heard of Harvard, I been to Yale / Did time at Princeton, baby, kinda’ pale / Tulane, makin’ new tradition everyday…the most distinctive education, in the land”. Dr. Cowen then reappeared to read from the teleprompter, “Wow…that was…exciting”. Link to song lyrics and download

I am by no means angry about the way the show went. I quite enjoyed it. It is the kind of thing I have come to expect from Tulane. This evening really brought back the feel of being at Tulane again. One day, when I have money, I will give to Tulane because of the fond memories of this distinctive production.

Distinct Homepage

Ticket

A man sings with his wife until he nearly explodes while an artistic prodigy plays piano.

I must say, I don’t usually enjoy opera. Granted, I have only been to a few in my life, but I did not enjoy myself at those. However, this was a completely different pancake. In their continuing mission to raise money to go to El Salvador, the JVC kids put on a musical event of epic proportions.

I arrived around 6:30 PM at the Dominican House. Apparently, this is where nuns live and work. First of all, the body of my knowledge of the Catholic religion is completely based on the “Sister Act” movie series starring the outstanding Whoopi Goldberg. I had many questions that I posed to the Heathers, two Dominican volunteers I know.

We all know that the nuns cannot be married. However, they cannot just leave the compound and get married either. I thought that maybe a nun could sneak out on the premise of going to the U-Totem to get a pack of smokes. Then she could sneak off to be married. The church, though, would not allow this. For a nun to formally leave and become a normal lady again, she has to apply and then get a dispensation from the Vatican. The nuns are able to smoke cigarettes, though. The Heather’s offered to introduce me to some nuns, but I thought maybe I needed some more time before I graduated to that level.

An El Salvadorian restaurant donated food that was sold at the reasonable price of $5 per person. I only had the ten dollars to pay for the ticket, so I did not purchase any food. This was moot, however, since I drank a big bottle of chocolate milk I had seen at the grocery store just before I went to the Dominican House. I was not hungry for a while after that, and I actually felt a big sluggish from drinking so much milk.

I sat for the performance with Peter and his coworker Jino, also a Tulane graduate. The piano player was a man named Rodney Waters who has a BA and MA in music. He has performed all over the world. He is also a renowned photographer specializing in pictures of refugees who have resettled in Houston. The male singer was a man named Ramon Rabaza. He is a self-taught opera singer who did not start learning until he was 24. He is a voice teacher. His wife, Patricia, is also a singer as well as a piano teacher at their private voice and piano studio.

The Rabazas sang a variety of numbers from various operas and Rodney Waters played a couple of solos. The selection of opera numbers was excellent and I thoroughly enjoyed the musical prowess of all three performers. Ramon Rabaza has an amazing voice, particularly for someone who is self-taught. When he sang, he turned downright red, and I was afraid he was going to explode and ruin an otherwise wonderful show. He remained intact, however, and the show ended well. The people seemed to enjoy the show, as well.