one wedding and a metal concert
My brother Chris's best friend Michael got married on Saturday.
The evening before, my mom called him to ask a question about the rehearsal dinner and discovered that he was in the hospital getting his appendix out.
It was a strange rehearsal dinner, my mom told me - no groom, no bride (Kari went to the hospital with Michael), and on top of that it was the minister's first wedding. Michael's sister Cindy stood in for both halves of the couple in the practice run-through of the ceremony. Afterward, all the groomsmen went to visit Michael in the hospital.
My brother Chris came home in the wee hours and instead of writing his best man speech together we stayed up watching The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on cable.
We had emailed a few ideas to one another the week before while I was in Berlin. I couldn't get Chris out of bed the next morning, so I went downstairs to work on the speech with my mom, who contributed what I considered to be the funniest line. We wrote out the final draft with me sitting on Chris's bed, which he was still lying in, half-asleep but still having his say.
A couple of hours before the wedding, he went off to prepare with the rest of the wedding party and my mom went to the church to help set up.
The wedding started at 3:30 - or a few minutes after, my mom said, since you're supposed to start your wedding on the upswing of the hour. My family arrived right around 3:15, used the tape roller to remove the dog hair from the car seats from our clothes, and rushed inside, barely picking up my guest, my friend Chad, who met us in the parking lot.
We weren't late. Jason, the minister and my former youth group leader, shook our hands as we walked in. Jason is a big bear of a guy with a wide, easy smile. He had a small white headphone hooked rather futuristically over his ear.
We waited in line to enter the church. When it was our turn, Kari's brother gallantly tore me away from the guest book, where I was deliberating whether to sign Chad's name for him, and led me down the aisle to my seat with my brother, his girlfriend, Alli, and the unrecorded Chad close behind.
Soon after, the first member of the wedding party came through the doors. The way she paused at the beginning, that proud-but-humble, all-eyes-on-me look set on her face, made me wonder for a second if the bride had chosen to come out first - and wearing red. But after a moment I realized this person was not Kari, just a bridesmaid who was making the most of the attention she got.
The other two bridesmaids followed, also smiling demurely at the crowd. They must have loved those dresses, silky red with a white stripe under the bust.
The groomsmen came out the side door. Without the down-front entry, they didn't seem too interested in being looked at. They smiled when they saw someone they knew, as the bridesmaids had begun to do. When Michael finally came out, looking deathly pale but smiling, his father gave that smiling frown and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back tears.
When they take out your appendix, they have to pump you full of gas to be able to separate it from the other things mixed up in your gut. Afterward they take the gas out and sew you back together, but my mom said they never quite get it all out, and it's very uncomfortable after the surgery. Michael said he took two percocet before the ceremony. I wonder if that nullifies his vows.
After everyone was lined up, all eyes turned back to the doors. And then, when the doors didn't open, back to Jason. And then back to the doors. Someone behind them waved frantically.
"Please stand up," Jason instructed us. We did, and finally the doors opened. Jason dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and folded it back into his pocket.
Kari had your traditional wedding dress, a pretty spaghetti-strap bright white number with an empire waist and one of those big, long skirts. Her hair was up and curled over her veil, which hung down her back.
Michael's smile was continuous, if a little dazed.
Jason started the ceremony by poking fun at Michael for getting sick right before his wedding. He continued with his usual easy smile and half-serious half-comedic but always sincere tone. He kept a large folder open to guide him through the parts of the ceremony. Periodically he would pat his forehead with the handkerchief. All in all, I was proud of him.
At the end of the ceremony, Michael and Kari knelt down to pray. Soon after, a slideshow going through their childhoods was projected onto the back wall to music. The music skipped a few times at the end, but it seemed to be a small reminder that no, weddings never can be quite perfect. Especially when the groom is stitched up and drugged.
After the final round of "you may now kiss the bride" applause, Michael and Kari and the rest of the wedding party exited the church. The rest of us sat back down, talking. But nobody else left. Finally, Cindy, Michael's sister, stood up in the front and walked herself down the aisle to fetch Kari's brother to lead the rest of us out.
There was no rice-throwing section of the ceremony. Everyone got into their cars and took off for the reception. But first my family poked around our old church for a while, trying to find things my brother and I remembered.
When we left, it had started to drizzle. "That's good luck," my dad told us. I don't know about that.
The reception was held at a country club in Mason, about 20 minutes away. The guests were divided into baseball teams, the logos of which decorated each table. We were the Colorado Rockies. We chowed on raw veggies and cheese, but once we got too lazy to go back to the buffet for more, we started into the Valentine's candies in bowls on the table.
My parents had bought a lemon and some very small paring knives at the grocery store on the way to the reception to construct a champagne glass full of lemon slices for my brother's toast. Michael has been going on family vacations with us since I can remember. And whenever we stop at a restaurant, he requests that there not be any lemon in his water. We picked up on this habit a while back and so every time he misses the drink orders, my dad asks for about five lemon slices for his drink, just to mess with him.
My mom cut up the lemon and hid the slices on a plate underneath a napkin. But the wedding party still had not arrived. Every time a waiter came by our table my mom would frantically tell them not to take them away, always saying by way of explanation, "They're for the best man." (as if that made any sense to them) We made fun of her every time. In fact, soon after we arrived, it became apparent that ours was going to be the loudest table. We laughed about that as well.
What seemed like hours later, the wedding party finally arrived and took their inconveniently backlit seats by the back window. We were led table by table to the dinner buffet. Kevin refused to eat the slow-roasted steak because it was red in the middle.
There was no alcohol (at least none that I could find). But somehow at least one of the groomsmen had gone through several glasses of champagne before dinner.
After dinner, we were summoned to the dance floor in the main lobby. An announcer arrived with a microphone.
"And now give your attention to the maid of..." the announcer began, indicating Kari's best friend, Rebecca. She ducked away, waving her hands in protest. "...mmto the best man!" the announcer finished, handing Chris the mic. Chris had no notes. It seemed that somehow during the drive to the reception he had memorized his speech.
"I know the vows say 'in sickness and in health,'" Chris began. "But don't you think you're starting on that a little early?"
"Michael's been my best friend since I was four years old. He's been like a brother to me. He even grew up calling my parents 'mom' and 'dad.' ...They called him 'the good son.'
"He's always been a responsible, hard-working guy, holding a series of illustrious jobs including, but not limited to, salesman at where everybody knows where to get their clothes -"
At this point the crowd yelled the end of the famous Cincinnati commercial, "Deveroes!"
"But he's not only hardworking, he also likes a little adventure, whether it be tipping over sailboats in Lake Huron or skiing straight down the black diamond at Perfect North - resulting in a concussion, but otherwise a good time.
"I've had the pleasure of growing up with Michael and watching him become the loving and dedicated man he is today. Despite current medical conditions, he still has a smile. God has truly blessed Michael with a great family and friends, and now a wonderful wife. Raise your glasses with me, please, to Michael and Kari. Congratulations!"
Becca took the mic next, saying, "I guess that means it's my turn."
She gave a sweet and teary speech, telling Michael she was glad to let him take her place as best friend.
Afterward it was announced that Michael and Kari could not have their first dance, but that the dj would play their first song for the rest of us to dance to anyway. Shamefully, I cannot remember what that song was. They went on to play the usual wedding fare, including the Electric Slide, while the camera man stalked the dancers on the small square of dance floor. Kari danced up a storm, singing into fake microphones to Aretha Franklin with her bridesmaids.
My brother ran and changed out of his tux. He needed to get to Columbus to perform in a concert, creatively dubbed "Cinco de Sighlo," with his band, Sighlo.
He drove straight there. He was pulled over once for going 78 in a 65 zone, but he explained where he was going and got off with a warning. He made it just as the band was setting up.
Kevin, Alli, and I ditched my poor date soon after Chris left to get ourselves to the concert. We ran down High Street and made it to the venue with two songs and an encore to go. At first the guy at the door said we were too late and wouldn't let us in. I stepped up and said, "That's our brother!" He paused a second and waved us by. I didn't even have to buy a ticket.
When we first reached the crowd, Tyler was singing. But I couldn't see him on stage. Then I looked left and saw that he was yelling into the microphone while crowd-surfing. Crazy boy. We jumped and yelled and even sang along when they played my favorite song of theirs.
About 20 percent of the people there were wearing Sighlo t-shirts. At the end of the show, the drummer threw one of his sticks out to the crowd. The guy behind me pounced on it and held it out triumphantly for his friends to touch. Tyler closed out the show, took a final slug of his water bottle, then flung it into the crowd, too. They may have dedicated fans, but they certainly have yet to reach God status. The empty bottle hit the floor.
The next day, I happened to read an article about dancing at weddings. It led me to this video:
Where can I find someone who will do that?
The evening before, my mom called him to ask a question about the rehearsal dinner and discovered that he was in the hospital getting his appendix out.
It was a strange rehearsal dinner, my mom told me - no groom, no bride (Kari went to the hospital with Michael), and on top of that it was the minister's first wedding. Michael's sister Cindy stood in for both halves of the couple in the practice run-through of the ceremony. Afterward, all the groomsmen went to visit Michael in the hospital.
My brother Chris came home in the wee hours and instead of writing his best man speech together we stayed up watching The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on cable.
We had emailed a few ideas to one another the week before while I was in Berlin. I couldn't get Chris out of bed the next morning, so I went downstairs to work on the speech with my mom, who contributed what I considered to be the funniest line. We wrote out the final draft with me sitting on Chris's bed, which he was still lying in, half-asleep but still having his say.
A couple of hours before the wedding, he went off to prepare with the rest of the wedding party and my mom went to the church to help set up.
The wedding started at 3:30 - or a few minutes after, my mom said, since you're supposed to start your wedding on the upswing of the hour. My family arrived right around 3:15, used the tape roller to remove the dog hair from the car seats from our clothes, and rushed inside, barely picking up my guest, my friend Chad, who met us in the parking lot.
We weren't late. Jason, the minister and my former youth group leader, shook our hands as we walked in. Jason is a big bear of a guy with a wide, easy smile. He had a small white headphone hooked rather futuristically over his ear.
We waited in line to enter the church. When it was our turn, Kari's brother gallantly tore me away from the guest book, where I was deliberating whether to sign Chad's name for him, and led me down the aisle to my seat with my brother, his girlfriend, Alli, and the unrecorded Chad close behind.
Soon after, the first member of the wedding party came through the doors. The way she paused at the beginning, that proud-but-humble, all-eyes-on-me look set on her face, made me wonder for a second if the bride had chosen to come out first - and wearing red. But after a moment I realized this person was not Kari, just a bridesmaid who was making the most of the attention she got.
The other two bridesmaids followed, also smiling demurely at the crowd. They must have loved those dresses, silky red with a white stripe under the bust.
The groomsmen came out the side door. Without the down-front entry, they didn't seem too interested in being looked at. They smiled when they saw someone they knew, as the bridesmaids had begun to do. When Michael finally came out, looking deathly pale but smiling, his father gave that smiling frown and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back tears.
When they take out your appendix, they have to pump you full of gas to be able to separate it from the other things mixed up in your gut. Afterward they take the gas out and sew you back together, but my mom said they never quite get it all out, and it's very uncomfortable after the surgery. Michael said he took two percocet before the ceremony. I wonder if that nullifies his vows.
After everyone was lined up, all eyes turned back to the doors. And then, when the doors didn't open, back to Jason. And then back to the doors. Someone behind them waved frantically.
"Please stand up," Jason instructed us. We did, and finally the doors opened. Jason dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and folded it back into his pocket.
Kari had your traditional wedding dress, a pretty spaghetti-strap bright white number with an empire waist and one of those big, long skirts. Her hair was up and curled over her veil, which hung down her back.
Michael's smile was continuous, if a little dazed.
Jason started the ceremony by poking fun at Michael for getting sick right before his wedding. He continued with his usual easy smile and half-serious half-comedic but always sincere tone. He kept a large folder open to guide him through the parts of the ceremony. Periodically he would pat his forehead with the handkerchief. All in all, I was proud of him.
At the end of the ceremony, Michael and Kari knelt down to pray. Soon after, a slideshow going through their childhoods was projected onto the back wall to music. The music skipped a few times at the end, but it seemed to be a small reminder that no, weddings never can be quite perfect. Especially when the groom is stitched up and drugged.
After the final round of "you may now kiss the bride" applause, Michael and Kari and the rest of the wedding party exited the church. The rest of us sat back down, talking. But nobody else left. Finally, Cindy, Michael's sister, stood up in the front and walked herself down the aisle to fetch Kari's brother to lead the rest of us out.
There was no rice-throwing section of the ceremony. Everyone got into their cars and took off for the reception. But first my family poked around our old church for a while, trying to find things my brother and I remembered.
When we left, it had started to drizzle. "That's good luck," my dad told us. I don't know about that.
The reception was held at a country club in Mason, about 20 minutes away. The guests were divided into baseball teams, the logos of which decorated each table. We were the Colorado Rockies. We chowed on raw veggies and cheese, but once we got too lazy to go back to the buffet for more, we started into the Valentine's candies in bowls on the table.
My parents had bought a lemon and some very small paring knives at the grocery store on the way to the reception to construct a champagne glass full of lemon slices for my brother's toast. Michael has been going on family vacations with us since I can remember. And whenever we stop at a restaurant, he requests that there not be any lemon in his water. We picked up on this habit a while back and so every time he misses the drink orders, my dad asks for about five lemon slices for his drink, just to mess with him.
My mom cut up the lemon and hid the slices on a plate underneath a napkin. But the wedding party still had not arrived. Every time a waiter came by our table my mom would frantically tell them not to take them away, always saying by way of explanation, "They're for the best man." (as if that made any sense to them) We made fun of her every time. In fact, soon after we arrived, it became apparent that ours was going to be the loudest table. We laughed about that as well.
What seemed like hours later, the wedding party finally arrived and took their inconveniently backlit seats by the back window. We were led table by table to the dinner buffet. Kevin refused to eat the slow-roasted steak because it was red in the middle.
There was no alcohol (at least none that I could find). But somehow at least one of the groomsmen had gone through several glasses of champagne before dinner.
After dinner, we were summoned to the dance floor in the main lobby. An announcer arrived with a microphone.
"And now give your attention to the maid of..." the announcer began, indicating Kari's best friend, Rebecca. She ducked away, waving her hands in protest. "...mmto the best man!" the announcer finished, handing Chris the mic. Chris had no notes. It seemed that somehow during the drive to the reception he had memorized his speech.
"I know the vows say 'in sickness and in health,'" Chris began. "But don't you think you're starting on that a little early?"
"Michael's been my best friend since I was four years old. He's been like a brother to me. He even grew up calling my parents 'mom' and 'dad.' ...They called him 'the good son.'
"He's always been a responsible, hard-working guy, holding a series of illustrious jobs including, but not limited to, salesman at where everybody knows where to get their clothes -"
At this point the crowd yelled the end of the famous Cincinnati commercial, "Deveroes!"
"But he's not only hardworking, he also likes a little adventure, whether it be tipping over sailboats in Lake Huron or skiing straight down the black diamond at Perfect North - resulting in a concussion, but otherwise a good time.
"I've had the pleasure of growing up with Michael and watching him become the loving and dedicated man he is today. Despite current medical conditions, he still has a smile. God has truly blessed Michael with a great family and friends, and now a wonderful wife. Raise your glasses with me, please, to Michael and Kari. Congratulations!"
Becca took the mic next, saying, "I guess that means it's my turn."
She gave a sweet and teary speech, telling Michael she was glad to let him take her place as best friend.
Afterward it was announced that Michael and Kari could not have their first dance, but that the dj would play their first song for the rest of us to dance to anyway. Shamefully, I cannot remember what that song was. They went on to play the usual wedding fare, including the Electric Slide, while the camera man stalked the dancers on the small square of dance floor. Kari danced up a storm, singing into fake microphones to Aretha Franklin with her bridesmaids.
My brother ran and changed out of his tux. He needed to get to Columbus to perform in a concert, creatively dubbed "Cinco de Sighlo," with his band, Sighlo.
He drove straight there. He was pulled over once for going 78 in a 65 zone, but he explained where he was going and got off with a warning. He made it just as the band was setting up.
Kevin, Alli, and I ditched my poor date soon after Chris left to get ourselves to the concert. We ran down High Street and made it to the venue with two songs and an encore to go. At first the guy at the door said we were too late and wouldn't let us in. I stepped up and said, "That's our brother!" He paused a second and waved us by. I didn't even have to buy a ticket.
When we first reached the crowd, Tyler was singing. But I couldn't see him on stage. Then I looked left and saw that he was yelling into the microphone while crowd-surfing. Crazy boy. We jumped and yelled and even sang along when they played my favorite song of theirs.
About 20 percent of the people there were wearing Sighlo t-shirts. At the end of the show, the drummer threw one of his sticks out to the crowd. The guy behind me pounced on it and held it out triumphantly for his friends to touch. Tyler closed out the show, took a final slug of his water bottle, then flung it into the crowd, too. They may have dedicated fans, but they certainly have yet to reach God status. The empty bottle hit the floor.
The next day, I happened to read an article about dancing at weddings. It led me to this video:
Click to viewWhere can I find someone who will do that?