Monday, August 13, 2007
Celebrate Good Times (Come On!)
What a weekend! I don't even know where to begin. But I think this is going to be a long one, so go grab some food and buckle yourself in. One of my oldest and dearest friends (is it possible to say that as a male and not sound, um, gay?) got married. I met Groom in first grade and we've been friends ever since. Whether we were riding our bikes to Randhurst, watching The Larry Sanders Show in college, or getting drunk all over the city of Chicago, we spent a lot of time together. So it was with great joy that I got to stand up in his wedding. Of course, his wedding ended up being a three-day affair. Not that I'm complaining.
First of all, they had the rehearsal on Thursday. I've already commented on that, so I'll skip it here. On Friday, there was a BBQ at his brother's house in Downers Grove. The party started at 6:00. Being the prompt people we are (which is unusual now that we have kids), we arrived at exactly 6:00. We were the first one there. By a long shot.
This might be a good time to bring up the fact that Groom is constanly running late. It's so chronic that we call his own internal time "Groom Time." (Except, of course, that we don't call him "Groom." We call him "Asshole." But I'm trying to be polite here. After all, he'll probably read this eventually. Good thing he's unable to read parenthetical comments.) So it was no surprise that Groom showed up to the BBQ at 7:30. Actually, I wasn't even sure if was going to come. Last minute wedding stuff always pops up. Still, it was nice to get out and see some of my friends, especially since we were able to take our kids with. I dig my kids and it's nice showing them off. I'm really looking forward to when they get older and they can put on shows for my friends. "Luke, show Uncle Groom how you can do long division! Courtney, draw an atom of Chlorine!"
It was a relatively early night for us, since we had the kids. I was in bed by 10:30. My plan was to wake up early and go for a bike ride. I didn't bother setting my alarm, and sure enough, at 5:30 I woke up and couldn't sleep any more. I think my stupid body is getting a little too used to waking up so early. (Case in point, today, I woke up at 4:57, which is 3 minutes before my alarm usually goes off. Might as well just get up at that point.) So I got all ready and went for a bike ride. Somewhere along the way, I noticed a few more bumps than usual. That's when it occurred to me that my rear tire might be losing air. I finally got off to check it about 5.5 miles into the ride, which was in a straight line away from home. That was a bad idea because I think I squeezed whatever air remained out of the tire. Given that my bike cost $1000 and I don't want to ruin the aluminum rims by riding on a flat tire, I walked my bike home. 5.5 miles. At 7:00 am.
I must have passed (no kidding) 1000 cars. Not one single person stopped and said, "Hey, that's a nice $1000 bike. How come you're walking it? Would you like a ride home?" I think that if someone would have done that in the last mile, I would have sworn at them. "What the fuck is your problem? Where the hell were you 4.5 miles ago? Jerk." The worst part of the walk home was that I started to get a blister on my heel. Apparently, my bike shoes are not made for walking long stretches. (Which is why they're "bike" shoes, not "walking a bike with a flat tire" shoes.) You don't have to be a genius to realize that "new blister" + "wedding in rented shoes" = "problems."
Anyway, the plan was for the groomsmen (all 7 of us) to arrive at the hotel at 12:30. We were going to get dressed there and then head to the church in the Limo Bus at 1:45. The wedding started at 3:00. So that would have been plenty of time to drop us off, come back to pick up the ladies and return to the church by 3:00.
I was about to leave for the hotel when I lost the card we were giving to Bride and Groom. I was looking all over the house. I asked The Wife where it went. She said it was on the kitchen table. Hmmm. Then I looked on the kitchen counter and realized there were a bunch of magazines there. Was it possible that The Wife had cleaned up the kitchen table and put the card that SHE KNEW I was going to give to Bride and Groom on the BOTTOM of that pile? Not only was it possible, but that's exactly what happened. It all worked out well, though, because she gave me a good story to put inside the card. I never know what to write in those things. This time I had a cautionary tale of the joys of marriage (the continuous attempts to thwart your spouse's efforts). Thanks, honey!
I left a few minutes later than I wanted and I knew I was going to be late to the hotel. I was stressing out a bit. (I hate being late.) But the whole time I was driving over, I was thinking, "Well, it only serves Groom right! After years of US waiting for HIM, the shoe's going to be on the other foot!" That didn't calm me down much. I ended up being 10 minutes late. So I called Groom and asked what room he was in. "Oh, I'm not there yet. I'll be there in like 10 minutes." Sigh. Groom has topped me yet again.
Of course, we can't get into the hotel room. Apparently, they didn't know there was a wedding in their hotel that night or something. So despite me getting to the hotel at 12:40 (and everyone else by about 1:00), we didn't get into the room until 1:25. Not that I'm anal or stressy or anything. Still, that's plenty of time to get dressed and get out by 1:45, right? Right? Did I mention Groom Time?
Tuxedos aren't the most difficult thing in the world to put on. Yet you'd never know it by watching the groomsmen trying to get dressed. The basics were easy enough. Most people were able to figure out that the shirt went on top and the pants on bottom. The hard part was figuring out what to do with the jewelry. I'm pretty sure I had to literally draw a picture of how the pseudo-button things go into the shirt for Groom. "No, it goes BEHIND the real button. No, from the BACK. NOOOO. Turn it around! No, the BIG part goes BEHIND the shirt. GAH!" And don't even get me started on the cufflinks.
Anyway, now it's 1:45 and I'm starting to stress out. Cuz after all, it's my wedding and it's all going to shit. Oh no, wait. It's not. (Yeah, I was a mess at my wedding. Control freak? You think?) Nobody's ready. Groom says that as long as we leave by 2:00, we'll be fine. Okay, so he built in a time cushion. Good idea. Except now it's 2:00 and we're still in the hotel room. Groom calls the limo (who's sitting out front) and says we'll be down in 5 minutes. (My brain: "5 minutes? Oh god, I'm going to explode.")
At 2:05, we're waiting in the lobby and I run into a couple of bridesmaids. One of them asks what the plan is. I say, "Well, 20 minutes ago, the limo took us to the church. It should be back any minute now to pick you up." Then they said that this wouldn't be a Bride wedding if things weren't running late? I said they must be confused. Groom is the one who's always late. No, it turns out they're BOTH always late. Hmmm. I don't know much, but I'm completely convinced that when they have a baby, it'll be born after the due date.
Anyway, we get on the bus around 2:10. The driver took us through a little detour and then missed the church completely as he gabbed on the cell phone. I'm getting way too stressed here. Again, not my wedding. Need to calm down. We get to the church and the limo turns right around. Fortunately, the wedding was only delayed about 5 minutes. Nobody else seems to care. I don't know why I get so stressed out about this. It's not like it's a live event that's being broadcast around the world. If it starts late, it starts late. Big deal. More time for people to find their seats. I've got to learn to cope.
Another uneventful wedding by the way. I think I watch too much TV that I'm fully expecting something awful to happen at a wedding, like the groom to faint or the church to burn down. With the exception of my brother's wedding where the wedding cake van crashed (thus ruining the cake), every wedding's gone off without a hitch. Sigh. One of these days, god willing, someone's wedding will be ruined.
After the wedding, we took a bunch of pictures. Shockingly. Is it me or are wedding photographers the most reviled people in the world? God, they're annoying. The finished product is usually great. But it's so freaking annoying having to sit there as he redirects people. "Now you move up front.Great. Now you two switch places. Okay, now everyone turn around and show your asses. " I really love the "creative" photos, like the one where the whole wedding party ran at the camera. I felt like I was filming the opening credits of a sitcom on the WB (er, make that the CW).
By the way, we were wearing rather tame-looking black tuxedos with champagne-colored vests and ties. My only complaint was that we took a handful of pictures outside in 90 degree weather. Thus, I think we should have worn white tuxes. The white tux has really slipped in popularity and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Wasn't Miami Vice a great show? Doesn't everyone else want to relive the 80's? Is it just me? Ah, nuts! Anyway, the white tux would have been significantly cooler for the 5 minutes we were standing in the sun. And the pictures would have had that timeless quality that everyone loves. Just like the ones from 1982 when I was a ring bearer wearing a powder blue tuxedo. That could have been any year (from 1980 to 1989).
All right. We arrive at the reception. This is where things start getting a little hazy for me. No doubt because of all the pure joy and fun I had that evening. And not because of the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed. Anyway, what I loved about Bride and Groom's wedding was that they basically invited everyone from my wedding (and then some). But the best part was that I didn't have to talk to any of my family. I could just party with my friends. Sweet!
I spent most of the evening catching up with old friends. One of the people who showed up was this girl, Monica, who had a locker right across the hall from me in high school. And, as she pointed out, we made out at some point in high school. Really? Um, sorry I don't remember that. But I was such a swinger in high school, it's hard to keep track of all the ladies I made out with. I mean, I was so busy with math team, how could I possibly remember all the wonderful ladies? Yeah. So I hadn't seen Monica since high school. I was shocked to find out that she got married. And divorced. After 11 years. Not that I'm shocked that she got divorced. I just didn't think it was possible for someone my age to be married for 11 years. I'm still just 25, right?
The absolute best part of the wedding was the photo booth. You know those photo booths they have at malls and amusement parks? Well, they had one at the wedding. You could even cut up the pictures and create a scrapbook page for the bride and groom. Well, I couldn't care less about that. I was too busy cramming into the thing with 5 other friends and being goofy. I seriously must have taken 20 pictures. Make that 20 sittings because each sitting got me 6 pictures. You think they're going to be tired of seeing me? "Cripes, another stupid picture of The Dow! Why did we invite him anyway?"
When I wasn't chatting or taking pictures, I was dancing. I love dancing. And I'm terrible at it. (Of course, it didn't help that I had a blister on my foot from my earlier biking escapades.) I'm a cross between Elaine on Seinfeld and an epileptic seizure. The problem is that I hate dancing like a boring white person (which is the only dancing I should be doing). Instead, I do a full-out routine like I'm one of the Solid Gold dancers on a crack binge. It usually makes for good video. And the videographers generally push over old ladies and children to get a chance to film it.
After the wedding, there was a post-party at the hotel. Or so I'm told. I don't really remember much of it. I remember talking to a cousin of a friend. I don't remember what it was about. Then I woke up at my mother-in-law's condo a few miles away. Fortunately, we were planning on staying there. Otherwise, it would have been very awkward.
It was a fantastic wedding. I'm still thinking happy thoughts about it two days later. It was even worth all the pain I felt yesterday (and continue to feel today). I hadn't drunk that much in a LONG time. And I was pretty much hungover all day on Sunday. I'm still pretty sore, which I can only attribute to my dancing. And I'm very much looking forward to hearing stories about me being an asshole the next time I run into my friends. "At one point, you were arguing with the coatrack. And you lost." The only bad part is that I'm starting to run out of friends to get married. Is it wrong that I start hoping some of them get divorced so I can get a few more weddings out of the deal? Yeah, probably. At the very least, I hope Bride and Groom have several big anniversary parties. Cuz that was one hell of a wedding.
First of all, they had the rehearsal on Thursday. I've already commented on that, so I'll skip it here. On Friday, there was a BBQ at his brother's house in Downers Grove. The party started at 6:00. Being the prompt people we are (which is unusual now that we have kids), we arrived at exactly 6:00. We were the first one there. By a long shot.
This might be a good time to bring up the fact that Groom is constanly running late. It's so chronic that we call his own internal time "Groom Time." (Except, of course, that we don't call him "Groom." We call him "Asshole." But I'm trying to be polite here. After all, he'll probably read this eventually. Good thing he's unable to read parenthetical comments.) So it was no surprise that Groom showed up to the BBQ at 7:30. Actually, I wasn't even sure if was going to come. Last minute wedding stuff always pops up. Still, it was nice to get out and see some of my friends, especially since we were able to take our kids with. I dig my kids and it's nice showing them off. I'm really looking forward to when they get older and they can put on shows for my friends. "Luke, show Uncle Groom how you can do long division! Courtney, draw an atom of Chlorine!"
It was a relatively early night for us, since we had the kids. I was in bed by 10:30. My plan was to wake up early and go for a bike ride. I didn't bother setting my alarm, and sure enough, at 5:30 I woke up and couldn't sleep any more. I think my stupid body is getting a little too used to waking up so early. (Case in point, today, I woke up at 4:57, which is 3 minutes before my alarm usually goes off. Might as well just get up at that point.) So I got all ready and went for a bike ride. Somewhere along the way, I noticed a few more bumps than usual. That's when it occurred to me that my rear tire might be losing air. I finally got off to check it about 5.5 miles into the ride, which was in a straight line away from home. That was a bad idea because I think I squeezed whatever air remained out of the tire. Given that my bike cost $1000 and I don't want to ruin the aluminum rims by riding on a flat tire, I walked my bike home. 5.5 miles. At 7:00 am.
I must have passed (no kidding) 1000 cars. Not one single person stopped and said, "Hey, that's a nice $1000 bike. How come you're walking it? Would you like a ride home?" I think that if someone would have done that in the last mile, I would have sworn at them. "What the fuck is your problem? Where the hell were you 4.5 miles ago? Jerk." The worst part of the walk home was that I started to get a blister on my heel. Apparently, my bike shoes are not made for walking long stretches. (Which is why they're "bike" shoes, not "walking a bike with a flat tire" shoes.) You don't have to be a genius to realize that "new blister" + "wedding in rented shoes" = "problems."
Anyway, the plan was for the groomsmen (all 7 of us) to arrive at the hotel at 12:30. We were going to get dressed there and then head to the church in the Limo Bus at 1:45. The wedding started at 3:00. So that would have been plenty of time to drop us off, come back to pick up the ladies and return to the church by 3:00.
I was about to leave for the hotel when I lost the card we were giving to Bride and Groom. I was looking all over the house. I asked The Wife where it went. She said it was on the kitchen table. Hmmm. Then I looked on the kitchen counter and realized there were a bunch of magazines there. Was it possible that The Wife had cleaned up the kitchen table and put the card that SHE KNEW I was going to give to Bride and Groom on the BOTTOM of that pile? Not only was it possible, but that's exactly what happened. It all worked out well, though, because she gave me a good story to put inside the card. I never know what to write in those things. This time I had a cautionary tale of the joys of marriage (the continuous attempts to thwart your spouse's efforts). Thanks, honey!
I left a few minutes later than I wanted and I knew I was going to be late to the hotel. I was stressing out a bit. (I hate being late.) But the whole time I was driving over, I was thinking, "Well, it only serves Groom right! After years of US waiting for HIM, the shoe's going to be on the other foot!" That didn't calm me down much. I ended up being 10 minutes late. So I called Groom and asked what room he was in. "Oh, I'm not there yet. I'll be there in like 10 minutes." Sigh. Groom has topped me yet again.
Of course, we can't get into the hotel room. Apparently, they didn't know there was a wedding in their hotel that night or something. So despite me getting to the hotel at 12:40 (and everyone else by about 1:00), we didn't get into the room until 1:25. Not that I'm anal or stressy or anything. Still, that's plenty of time to get dressed and get out by 1:45, right? Right? Did I mention Groom Time?
Tuxedos aren't the most difficult thing in the world to put on. Yet you'd never know it by watching the groomsmen trying to get dressed. The basics were easy enough. Most people were able to figure out that the shirt went on top and the pants on bottom. The hard part was figuring out what to do with the jewelry. I'm pretty sure I had to literally draw a picture of how the pseudo-button things go into the shirt for Groom. "No, it goes BEHIND the real button. No, from the BACK. NOOOO. Turn it around! No, the BIG part goes BEHIND the shirt. GAH!" And don't even get me started on the cufflinks.
Anyway, now it's 1:45 and I'm starting to stress out. Cuz after all, it's my wedding and it's all going to shit. Oh no, wait. It's not. (Yeah, I was a mess at my wedding. Control freak? You think?) Nobody's ready. Groom says that as long as we leave by 2:00, we'll be fine. Okay, so he built in a time cushion. Good idea. Except now it's 2:00 and we're still in the hotel room. Groom calls the limo (who's sitting out front) and says we'll be down in 5 minutes. (My brain: "5 minutes? Oh god, I'm going to explode.")
At 2:05, we're waiting in the lobby and I run into a couple of bridesmaids. One of them asks what the plan is. I say, "Well, 20 minutes ago, the limo took us to the church. It should be back any minute now to pick you up." Then they said that this wouldn't be a Bride wedding if things weren't running late? I said they must be confused. Groom is the one who's always late. No, it turns out they're BOTH always late. Hmmm. I don't know much, but I'm completely convinced that when they have a baby, it'll be born after the due date.
Anyway, we get on the bus around 2:10. The driver took us through a little detour and then missed the church completely as he gabbed on the cell phone. I'm getting way too stressed here. Again, not my wedding. Need to calm down. We get to the church and the limo turns right around. Fortunately, the wedding was only delayed about 5 minutes. Nobody else seems to care. I don't know why I get so stressed out about this. It's not like it's a live event that's being broadcast around the world. If it starts late, it starts late. Big deal. More time for people to find their seats. I've got to learn to cope.
Another uneventful wedding by the way. I think I watch too much TV that I'm fully expecting something awful to happen at a wedding, like the groom to faint or the church to burn down. With the exception of my brother's wedding where the wedding cake van crashed (thus ruining the cake), every wedding's gone off without a hitch. Sigh. One of these days, god willing, someone's wedding will be ruined.
After the wedding, we took a bunch of pictures. Shockingly. Is it me or are wedding photographers the most reviled people in the world? God, they're annoying. The finished product is usually great. But it's so freaking annoying having to sit there as he redirects people. "Now you move up front.
By the way, we were wearing rather tame-looking black tuxedos with champagne-colored vests and ties. My only complaint was that we took a handful of pictures outside in 90 degree weather. Thus, I think we should have worn white tuxes. The white tux has really slipped in popularity and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Wasn't Miami Vice a great show? Doesn't everyone else want to relive the 80's? Is it just me? Ah, nuts! Anyway, the white tux would have been significantly cooler for the 5 minutes we were standing in the sun. And the pictures would have had that timeless quality that everyone loves. Just like the ones from 1982 when I was a ring bearer wearing a powder blue tuxedo. That could have been any year (from 1980 to 1989).
All right. We arrive at the reception. This is where things start getting a little hazy for me. No doubt because of all the pure joy and fun I had that evening. And not because of the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed. Anyway, what I loved about Bride and Groom's wedding was that they basically invited everyone from my wedding (and then some). But the best part was that I didn't have to talk to any of my family. I could just party with my friends. Sweet!
I spent most of the evening catching up with old friends. One of the people who showed up was this girl, Monica, who had a locker right across the hall from me in high school. And, as she pointed out, we made out at some point in high school. Really? Um, sorry I don't remember that. But I was such a swinger in high school, it's hard to keep track of all the ladies I made out with. I mean, I was so busy with math team, how could I possibly remember all the wonderful ladies? Yeah. So I hadn't seen Monica since high school. I was shocked to find out that she got married. And divorced. After 11 years. Not that I'm shocked that she got divorced. I just didn't think it was possible for someone my age to be married for 11 years. I'm still just 25, right?
The absolute best part of the wedding was the photo booth. You know those photo booths they have at malls and amusement parks? Well, they had one at the wedding. You could even cut up the pictures and create a scrapbook page for the bride and groom. Well, I couldn't care less about that. I was too busy cramming into the thing with 5 other friends and being goofy. I seriously must have taken 20 pictures. Make that 20 sittings because each sitting got me 6 pictures. You think they're going to be tired of seeing me? "Cripes, another stupid picture of The Dow! Why did we invite him anyway?"
When I wasn't chatting or taking pictures, I was dancing. I love dancing. And I'm terrible at it. (Of course, it didn't help that I had a blister on my foot from my earlier biking escapades.) I'm a cross between Elaine on Seinfeld and an epileptic seizure. The problem is that I hate dancing like a boring white person (which is the only dancing I should be doing). Instead, I do a full-out routine like I'm one of the Solid Gold dancers on a crack binge. It usually makes for good video. And the videographers generally push over old ladies and children to get a chance to film it.
After the wedding, there was a post-party at the hotel. Or so I'm told. I don't really remember much of it. I remember talking to a cousin of a friend. I don't remember what it was about. Then I woke up at my mother-in-law's condo a few miles away. Fortunately, we were planning on staying there. Otherwise, it would have been very awkward.
It was a fantastic wedding. I'm still thinking happy thoughts about it two days later. It was even worth all the pain I felt yesterday (and continue to feel today). I hadn't drunk that much in a LONG time. And I was pretty much hungover all day on Sunday. I'm still pretty sore, which I can only attribute to my dancing. And I'm very much looking forward to hearing stories about me being an asshole the next time I run into my friends. "At one point, you were arguing with the coatrack. And you lost." The only bad part is that I'm starting to run out of friends to get married. Is it wrong that I start hoping some of them get divorced so I can get a few more weddings out of the deal? Yeah, probably. At the very least, I hope Bride and Groom have several big anniversary parties. Cuz that was one hell of a wedding.
