The Wedding

Here's a summary of Big R's and Lil N's wedding:

The crew reaches our destination on Friday afternoon. There are 5 groomsmen (6 if you include Big R) and all of us have our significant others with us.

Friday evening is the rehearsal/rehearsal dinner/bar crashing. Everything goes smoothly during the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. After dinner, about 15 of us go to the bar to hang out and have a good time.

Annie was lucky enough to be our designated driver that night. So there were four men in the truck and Annie driving us. One of the groomsmen started speaking in Spanish. He was really getting into it, but I couldn't understand a word of it, except for the Spanish word for "harmonica."

I turned around and asked him, "What in the heck are you saying?"

He proceeds to tell us the translation, which involved something about "play my mushroom like a harmonica." Apparently, he's been to some interesting places in Mexico. So, Big R and I start laughing. I was laughing so hard that I started crying. Annie, on the other hand, was none too impressed. Poor girl. She was stuck in a truck with 4 not-so-sober dudes, with one of them saying some pretty graphic stuff about his "mushroom."

So we get back to the hotel, and since my place is always the gathering place, we end up chillin' there. The only problem is that it's about 2:30 A.M., and Annie was wanting to go to sleep. So, bless her heart, now she has 3 guys in her hotel room. And not a one of us able to pass a field sobriety test. Although, I was pretty stable. Big R and our Spanish-speaking friend were not anywhere close to the world of "sober."

Annie, the trooper that she is, didn't say a word and let the 3 of us hang out. The party didn't last too long though, and Big R eventually feel asleep in one of the chairs. It took an Act of Congress to get him up. I ended up escorting him back to his hotel room, but not before we did the "Tommy Boy" routine on Cameltoes' hotel door. You know the scene from "Tommy Boy" where David Spade is trying to wake up Chris Farley. So Big R and I are yelling "House keeping!" at his door at 3 in the morning. I'm very thankful that we didn't get kicked out of the hotel that night.

Cameltoes said that he did hear us, but he just wanted to ignore us. Not cool. You could have at least opened the door and said "Hi" to us. Poor, poor Cameltoes.

The next morning, I find out that Big Judy's wife is not feeling very well. She was actively vomiting until about 2 that afternoon. She felt so bad that she missed the wedding, which was a 6 P.M. Poor girl.

Saturday night was the wedding and the reception. The wedding went fine, except for Big R's profuse sweating during the entire deal.

The rehearsal was pretty interesting. I ended up in a dance-off competition with the Maid-of Honor to Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean." The crowd loved it, and I rocked it. I really needed some white socks and a fedora, and it would have been perfect. It was good to be "that guy" again.* I haven't done that in quite a while.

The reception ends and group of us heads to the bar. Unbeknownst to me, Annie had drank a little more than was normal for her. We again closed down the bar and headed back to the hotel.

The next morning we get up and I can tell that Annie ain't exactly up to par. With every exhale she was moaning, and I knew that was not good. We had to get an extension for our checkout because she was moving that slow.

We finally hit the road a little after 1:00 P.M., and we hadn't traveled more than 5 miles when Annie told me to pull over. We stopped at a Love's. She hurled her guts out in the gas station bathroom. I was finally hungry, so while she was tossing her cookies, I was waiting for my Arby's sandwich. The smell of that meal almost made her loose it again, so I ate it rapidly.

We drove another 2 hours or so, and she was still feeling pretty bad. As a joke I asked her, "You know, we're getting pretty close to College Station. Do you want to stop and get some wing?" I must first say that Annie does NOT like buffalo wings. As soon as I said that, she starts gagging. I felt really bad for that. I really did. I was just trying to joke around with her. Honestly.

Well, about 2 minutes later she made me pull over. So with an audience of myself, about 40 goats, and an untold number of people that passed us as we were parked on the shoulder, she proceeded to hurl again. I was laughing pretty hard at the situation. Annie the trooper that she is, saw the humor in the moment. She said, "This is soooooo trashy."

Why would it be trashy? The fact that she was vomiting on the side of a busy highway? Or the fact that there was an audience of 40 goats watching?

I found out later that on Saturday night, Lil N was vomiting in their "Honeymoon Suite." No loving for Big R. Poor, poor Big R.

So, while the 6 of us guys all felt fine during the weekend's festivities, exactly 50% of our significant others had numerous bouts of vomiting. Pretty dang ironic, methinks.

Keep on keepin' on.

* When I say "that guy" I mean what people are saying when I'm on the dance floor, 99% of the time without a partner. It's when I'm really breakin' it down. So the people around would say, "Holy cow, look at that guy! He can really dance! I bet he's good in bed!" It's amazing how accurate that statement is. Good dancer = Good love maker.