Bachelor Party and Wedding
I consider most facets of a bachelor party to be optional. You don't need strippers or road trips or abductions. One thing I'm unwilling to compromise on is alcohol. Alcohol has to flow freely. I implemented this idea to great effect at Colin's bachelor party. Unfortunately it happened that the bachelor party was the night before the wedding, which I consider to be the ideal night for a bachelor party but does cause some logistical problems the next day. For instance, I spent most of the cab ride to Seattle trying to remember which side of the body the liver is on, and wondering whether the stabbing pain in my side was a simple side effect of drinking Jägermeister or whether I should be consulting a doctor about my tragic case of Escaping Liver. As I cradled my aching head in my hands and cursed myself for not drinking more water before going to sleep the night before, I found the energy to speculate about how Colin was feeling. Probably not so hot.
That might be trouble.
I admit I was expecting a certain amount of good-natured animosity due to the sheer volume of alcohol I poured down Colin's throat the previous night, but I was unprepared for the incredibly violent sentiments hurled my way every time Colin so much as thought about me. As the abuse continued, I began to feel a strange sensation...I felt guilty. Colin verbally lashing me was not unusual but usually I was able to take it in stride. It felt different this time. Maybe it was because this time I couldn't hit back (it would take a lot more abuse to convince me to spar with a man on his wedding day), or maybe it was because this time he really meant it.
The ceremony was beautiful, Colin looked about as nervous as...well, a man who's about to get married, but Jenn looked like she was about to burst into laughter and/or tears. I thought he might let up on me after the ceremony concluded successfully (and - it bears repeating - beautifully), but Colin continued to try to explode my head with telekinesis.
"Dude," I couldn't bring myself to say at the reception, "if you're actually angry at me," (I couldn't tell if it was some kind of twisted facade - if he was just trying to make me feel guilty, mission accomplished!) "...do me a favour and don't read the card until you've cooled down." Instead I apologized again and slinked quietly out of the building. Rather than contributing to their happiness, the wedding had apparently succeeded despite me...not a feeling I found I enjoyed. I had become some sort of comic book villain, The Devourer of Happiness, Destroyer of Weddings.
I laid awake for several nights, expecting any minute to hear the rumble of the mail truck heralding the arrival of a small white envelope with a tiny card inside: "You're dead to me. -Colin" Or simply a knock on the door to reveal Colin himself, who would step inside before taking his well-earned swing. Maybe Jenn would come too, and watch and laugh. It was no more than I deserved. And what if one of their parents got their hands on my card before Colin or Jenn found it and destroyed it after reading as instructed in the message? There were simply too many doomsday scenarios to contemplate. People excuse my normal tomfoolery in the course of our normal lives but there was context here. Tomfoolery around a wedding ruins what should be the best day of someone's life. I had gone too far.
As I sat fully dressed in the dark on my bed at 3:00am on the fourth night, sweating and shivering, I suddenly realized that this was ridiculous. A huge effort of willpower stopped the chattering of my teeth and I tried to rationalize to myself. Colin and Jenn are the most stable, loving, trusting couple I know. I could have driven a bulldozer through the church in the middle of the ceremony and it wouldn't even scratch the surface of the deep affection that those two feel for each other...although I might get some stern words from God. Who the hell was I to think that I'd ruined everything with some alcohol and some bad jokes? Assuaged, I lit some candles, put on some soft jazz and took a hot rose oil-scented bath and went to sleep.
I got up the next morning and found that someone had posted some pictures of the wedding. Apparently my fly was open for a nontrivial chunk of the day.
"Goddammit, why didn't anyone tell me?!" I yelled.
Moral: Don't even bother trying to count the ways you screwed up, cause there's at least one you don't even know about.
That might be trouble.
I admit I was expecting a certain amount of good-natured animosity due to the sheer volume of alcohol I poured down Colin's throat the previous night, but I was unprepared for the incredibly violent sentiments hurled my way every time Colin so much as thought about me. As the abuse continued, I began to feel a strange sensation...I felt guilty. Colin verbally lashing me was not unusual but usually I was able to take it in stride. It felt different this time. Maybe it was because this time I couldn't hit back (it would take a lot more abuse to convince me to spar with a man on his wedding day), or maybe it was because this time he really meant it.
The ceremony was beautiful, Colin looked about as nervous as...well, a man who's about to get married, but Jenn looked like she was about to burst into laughter and/or tears. I thought he might let up on me after the ceremony concluded successfully (and - it bears repeating - beautifully), but Colin continued to try to explode my head with telekinesis.
"Dude," I couldn't bring myself to say at the reception, "if you're actually angry at me," (I couldn't tell if it was some kind of twisted facade - if he was just trying to make me feel guilty, mission accomplished!) "...do me a favour and don't read the card until you've cooled down." Instead I apologized again and slinked quietly out of the building. Rather than contributing to their happiness, the wedding had apparently succeeded despite me...not a feeling I found I enjoyed. I had become some sort of comic book villain, The Devourer of Happiness, Destroyer of Weddings.
I laid awake for several nights, expecting any minute to hear the rumble of the mail truck heralding the arrival of a small white envelope with a tiny card inside: "You're dead to me. -Colin" Or simply a knock on the door to reveal Colin himself, who would step inside before taking his well-earned swing. Maybe Jenn would come too, and watch and laugh. It was no more than I deserved. And what if one of their parents got their hands on my card before Colin or Jenn found it and destroyed it after reading as instructed in the message? There were simply too many doomsday scenarios to contemplate. People excuse my normal tomfoolery in the course of our normal lives but there was context here. Tomfoolery around a wedding ruins what should be the best day of someone's life. I had gone too far.
As I sat fully dressed in the dark on my bed at 3:00am on the fourth night, sweating and shivering, I suddenly realized that this was ridiculous. A huge effort of willpower stopped the chattering of my teeth and I tried to rationalize to myself. Colin and Jenn are the most stable, loving, trusting couple I know. I could have driven a bulldozer through the church in the middle of the ceremony and it wouldn't even scratch the surface of the deep affection that those two feel for each other...although I might get some stern words from God. Who the hell was I to think that I'd ruined everything with some alcohol and some bad jokes? Assuaged, I lit some candles, put on some soft jazz and took a hot rose oil-scented bath and went to sleep.
I got up the next morning and found that someone had posted some pictures of the wedding. Apparently my fly was open for a nontrivial chunk of the day.
"Goddammit, why didn't anyone tell me?!" I yelled.
Moral: Don't even bother trying to count the ways you screwed up, cause there's at least one you don't even know about.