The Wedding

Prologue

This is a story for the ages. I’m lucky this weekend was so fast paced because it prevented me from hitting the ol’ Book of Shenry and churning out page after page of profanity-laced complaints. Now, two days after the wedding, I can attempt to document events in a more detached manner, thus allowing you, the reader, to form your own opinions of my brother’s wedding. I’m sure that as I type I’ll work myself up into a maelstrom of vulgarities at one point or another, but that can be just as entertaining as stoic facts. Perhaps your interested in some background information like my initial grumblings about this doomed party (here), or the bachelor party and first draft of my best man’s toast (here), or some astounding financial facts about the gross misuse finances (here). Jeeze, I’ve already stepped away from the “detached observer” persona. The players and places will become evident as the story unfolds.

Rehearsal Morning

I was already peeved that rehearsal was scheduled for 1:00PM on a Friday and that I was crappily informed of this 5 days prior as the bachelor party was breaking up. The ceremony was to be held at a little cabin up in the foothills 8 miles past the gambling community of Blackhawk on highway 119. Figuring commute time and added responsibility of picking up my sister, jue, and groomsman, eber, I needed to take the entire day off of work. Hey, benz-oh and x2b, thanks for the courtesy of not planning the rehearsal around us working stiffs and thanks for notifying us at the last minute. As I was pulling out of my alley at 11:00AM, I get a call from benz-oh informing me that he will be reducing my drive time by taking jue and eber up to the mountains. Thanks for the help bro but you forgot about jue’s dress at mom’s house, which I had to pick up anyway. So my drive time was significantly reduced by zero minutes. It was just me and Flour Girl(LC) on the lonely winding road to the mountains.

Best Man’s Toast No More

It was on that ill-fated phone conversation that my bro emotionally castrated me as he slipped these words into our parting salutations, “Uh, dude, you’re not giving a toast at the reception, instead x2b’s dad is giving the toast. But don’t worry ‘cause you can give a toast tonight at the rehearsal dinner.” My mind froze as I kept driving to mom’s for my sister’s dress. All of my synapses were shooting like lightening. I knew I should’ve been mad but I was too shocked from complete mental overload. I think it’s a lot like those stories you hear about the guy who accidentally chops his arm off but instead of fainting and bleeding to death he instinctively activates a deeply buried survival backup program and he drags himself five miles to the closest doctor. As the self-hypnotized man collapses in the hospital waiting room the doctors astutely proclaim that in another ten minutes this man will be dead if not immediately treated. That is exactly how I found myself up in the foothills for the rehearsal. Benz-oh called me twice more on my cell phone and both times I all but hung up on him. It was either hang up or toss the phone out the window for some demented rabid raccoon to carry it off as its hairless stillborn baby.



FUCK! That toast is mine. It’s my time to stand up for my bro and show the world I love him and support him and he wanted to take that away from me. Bullshit, I say! Is x2b’s dad the new best man? Did x2b’s dad share a bedroom with benz-oh until the age of 15? Did x2b’s dad stay up late on school nights with benz-oh playing Techmo Bowl on the Sega Genesis? When we made our own basketball team on Sega’s NBA Live we used the members of Metallica as our starters and me and benz-oh would come off the bench to relieve Lars and Kirk.I don’t remember x2b’s dad by our side hoisting up game winning 3-pointers. When we were little and benz-oh would get in trouble I’d cry if he got spanked; I took his pain and cried for him. (Yeah, I'm pouring the Velveeta on.)

Poor Flour Girl sat patiently in the back seat occasionally asking, “Daddy, who are you talking too?” as I mumbled insanely to myself. I even called SSDiabolique for a reality check. What am I getting so worked up over, it’s only a toast? SSDiabolique helped steady me and remind me that it’s not just a toast but it’s my blessing to them.

Like I said, I made it up there although I left my sanity down in Blackhawk.

Rehearsal Without Rehearsing

Just seeing family and friends at the cabin was enough to help me regain my partial wits. In fact, I must say that I was the life of the rehearsal. I was on point and on fire; I was witty and charming. Deep inside I was dazed, but I figured an opportunity would present itself to pull benz-oh aside and have a heart to heart with him. We groomsmen hung out at the alter area waiting for rehearsal to get moving. When we’d inquire about the pointless wait people would say, “We’re waiting for the arch.” I’ve noticed that when the same excuse is used and reused people begin to shudder and dread those words; hence, “We’re waiting for the arch,” still sends shivers down my butt crack. When I pointed out that we could effectively rehearse without an arch people threatened to burn me at the stake for my blasphemy… of course in these drought-like conditions the fire would’ve spread to the fresh woodchips scattered on the ground and the whole mountainside would’ve spontaneously combusted.

Seriously, the ceremony area was covered in woodchips. I don’t know why, it just was. Maybe the woodchips were to soak up any oil spills and or maybe soak up the blood from a sacrificial goat… maybe to cover up some rank odor. I don’t know. I really felt like I was standing in a hamster cage. After milling about for an hour, I retrieved my red and gray hacky-sack and we groomsmen entertained ourselves for another hour. At 3:00PM I left. I was a little miffed, because I didn’t need to take an entire day off work. I could’ve gone in to work at 5:00AM and left at 1:00PM. I usually show up at work at 6:00AM-ish anyway so going in at 5:00AM is not a big deal and it would’ve saved me 8 hours of vacation. Nice planning on their part, eh?

So, when it hit 3:00PM I left and took Flour Girl with me. I hit the weight room and felt a little better.

AMC Eagle Station Wagon

I noticed something odd at the rehearsal… a fleet of AMC Eagles (roughly 1983 style). Everyone from x2b’s family owns one apparently. Odd, but I dig it in an eccentrically funky kinda way

Rehearsal Dinner

The rehearsal dinner at 7:00PM had several redeeming moments for me. (Let me point out once again that the rehearsal was scheduled for 1:00PM. In all reality it shouldn’t take six hours to rehearse but need I remind you that we’re not dealing with REALity.) The first moment of redemption came when I talked to jue and she agreed it was bullshit that I wasn’t allowed to give a toast. Jue and I cornered benz-oh early in the evening and had that heart to heart chat I mentioned earlier. I let benz-oh know that I was crushed and devastated by his decision, but that I will always support him as my brother. I also refused his patronizing offer to toast the rehearsal dinner. The three of us siblings hugged in near tears.

The next redemption song came when I told my aunts, uncles, and cousins that benz-oh was denying me my toast. They were appalled. Thurtub and my wizened Uncle Mark helped me realize that if I wanted to make a toast then nobody could truly stop me. Right there and then we hatched a plan where I would stand up, clack my spoon on my glass, clear my throat, and give the second best wedding toast ever. NOBODY can top my cousin David’s toast when his brother Paul got married. David emotively choked his way through the first half of his toast then bust into restrained tears and sobbed out the rest. David’s heart wrenching toast left the guest stunned and glassy-eyed. This is why I must settle for the second best wedding toast ever.

Final redemption was achieved as I was leaving. Benz-oh hugged me and whispered, “Don’t worry about the toast; I’ll hook you up, bro.” I gave him an extra squeeze and left the evening psychologically emancipated.

See, this story has a happy ending. HA! Read on, read on, read on…

Wedding Day

The glorious morning broke. Flour Girl and I picked up jue and eber from mom’s and headed up into the crisp afternoon mountains. The ceremony was slated to start at 2:30PM but the wedding party was requested to show up at noon. After the previous day’s rehearsal, the four of us were feeling quite jaded so we decided to show up at 1:00PM. Seriously, who needs to stand around for two and a half hours in a hot monkey suit? I call them monkey suits, but they were hot… and I don’t mean temperature wise, I was pimping James Bond style, baby! White dinner jacket over a white shirt highlighted with black bowtie and black cummerbund. Black tux pants and black square toe shoes completed the outfit. Martini, shaken not stirred.

The Purfled Pink Tux

I did squeeze out a spot of fun though. They crammed all six of guys into a tinny bedroom to change. As we were all rubbing nuts trying to figure stuff out, I reached into my garment bag and pulled out a flamingo peach tuxedo shirt complete with purfled ruffles and fringed cuffs. I gasp in surprise, “Is this right? Why do you guys have white shirts and I have a pink frilly one? Is this ‘cause I’m the best man.” Benz-oh was completely confused finally after a couple minutes Vinny realized I was fucking around and dug through my garment bag for my real shirt, but first I stepped outside to freak out the women. X2b stood there stunned, mouth agape, for half a minute then she twitched and shouted. The professional photographer loved it and took three or four shots of me in my pink ruffles.

Ceremony

The ceremony was run of the mill: flower girls, procession, readings, poems, vows, kiss, and recession. I didn’t even need any “rehearsal.” Someone had the billiant idea to make poor Alexis a flower girl; for god’s sake she just turned two. The poor girl was quite the trooper though.

Thurtub’s Anecdote

After the ceremony, the photographer took some pictures of the wedding party against the mountainous backdrop. She did a great job despite x2b’s criticism when she chewed out the professional photographer for taking too long to take her photos. I didn’t witness this tongue-lashing; this is secondhand from thurtub. He could explain further. He also had another interesting story. The photographer was setting up mom, jue, thurtub, benz-oh, and me for a picture, when one of those odd AMC Eagles started backing up. The station wagon was 20-yards back and was moving away from us. X2b snapped, “Get out of the way of that car.” I explained that the car was moving away from us and if it wanted to pull forward then we would move. I foresaw no imminent danger. No I didn’t hear x2b’s next word but thurtub told me she said, “You better move or I’ll push you in front of it.” Not to point out the obvious, but that's not nice.

The Reception

So jue, SSDiabolique, and I jumped in the VW Golf and headed to Denver’s swanky Brown Palace. We valet parked and headed into the famous hotel. It was indeed impressive. Our footsteps slowed and we drank in the décor. I was feeling good with sexy SSDiabolique on one elbow and my beautiful sister on the other. I unsheathed my digital camera and began to take a photo.

“Get down there now and get in that photo,” snapped x2b, “and where are Flour Girl’s shoes.” She barked about twenty commands and orders before I finally shook my head and tried to respond. She concluded with, “It doesn’t matter, just GO.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to take a quick photo of this,” I motioned to the atrium.

X2b stormed away and as she passed jue I heard jue rage, “Oh, hell no! You did not just say that! You do not say that about my brother.”

SSDiabolique went to investigate futher and I heard the menace in SSDiabolique’s quavering voice, “I’m taking Flour Girl and leaving.” SSDiabolique made a bee-line for the photo shoot where Flour Girl was innocently being cute.

Jue chased down SSDiabolique shouting calming words like, “I don’t think she meant it,” and “Let’s think this out!” These pleas struck a chord with SSDiabolique and she paused at the stair banister where the photo shoot was being staged.

I must’ve had lead in my feet and head, because I was slow. I caught up to jue and managed to utter monosyllabically, “Wha?!”

“She just called you a fucking asshole.”

“Are you sure?” I choked.

“Yeah.”

I continued walking toward the photo shoot and nodded apologetically to the photographer as I stepped in front of her. And there I stood with the majority of the wedding party present, all posed on the stairs before me for a nice tiered effect. The flower girls stood patiently at the foot of the stairs and x2b and benz-oh stood centered on the middle stair. “X2b,” I confronted her, “jue said you just called me a fucking asshole.”

Her response: “So? Get outta the was so they can take the pictures.”

I scooped up Flour Girl, and we left. SSDiabolique, Flour Girl, and I paused long enough to say goodbye to mom and tell her why we were leaving. Poor jue was so revved up that she was twitching and having trouble forming sentences. I let her know that she didn’t need to leave also and she stayed.

Best Man’s Toast

I never got a chance to give it, but here’s the gist of it. I formed the toast around a quote I once read from Larry Flynt.

Happiness. Tonight is all about happiness. Benz-oh and x2b epitomize the truth that happiness is a choice. Remember, happiness is not a destination; it’s a way to travel. Here’s to your happiness. I love you guys.

Like any good toast this wasn’t written down; it was just an outline in my head. As I left that night I paused long enough to pass my toast on to eber in hope that my message would live on. Unfortunately, I’ve been told that the only toast given was from x2b’s dad.

Later That Night

After I stripped off my monkey suit the three of us headed to McDonalds for a meal that rivaled whatever the Brown Palace could offer. When we got back to the apartment I checked the phone messages to hear a plea from my dad to come back. When he told me that benz-oh was visibly shaken I had one foot out the door headed back to the hotel, then dad said if I didn’t come back I would regret it later in life. That last statement made me yank my foot back inside. Screw that, I would’ve regretted not leaving. I cannot and will not be insulted like that.

I got a call two minutes later from my sobbing Nonnie. She just could not understand the evening. I guess the transpired events climbed the gossip grapevine and spread its roots quite rapidly. Poor Nonnie, just hearing the words "fucking asshole" would be enough to make her hyperventilate.

Jue called after Nonnie and it turns out she stayed 15 minutes then called a cab. She couldn’t take it. I love you sister.

Aftermath

I left a loving message at benz-oh’s. I hope he gets it. No references to x2b, just me letting him know I love him and I’ll always be his brother. I checked up on mom yesterday and she’s doing as well as can be expected. Mom said she talked to benz-oh and he was completely cluess about what happened. WTF?! He was standing arm in arm with x2b when I confronted her, how could he not know? SSDiabolique, who was standing behind the wedding party, says she heard it along with half the patrons in the hotel lobby so I know I said it loud enough. Of course, I haven’t slept well these last two nights and it’s probably reflected in my writing. I’ll come back and clean this up later. I really need to sleep now and it’s 2:30PM! I keep debating about whether I should call benz-oh or swing by his place or leave him alone. What a cluster fuck.
...and so it was written, shenry at 8/26/2002 02:44:00 PM.
...and so it was appended with .