Best Wedding Ever: Part III (The Conclusion)

The dinner service was a very classy affair. Held under a large tent overlooking the lavender fields, we sat at assigned tables that each represented an important location in the lives of the couple. I usually think that kind of stuff is pretty corny but I have to say it was a very nice touch. There were little placards at each table describing why the location was special and we were split up between the Lake Monticello Table (home of the annual Memorial Day Weekend Festivoo) and the Four P’s Table (where Katherine and Brian met).

The meal itself was a nice catered mix of London Broil, pasta, and grilled prawns. I am not a seafood guy but everyone went on and on about how great the prawns were. So great in fact that Jamie went hopping from seat to seat stuffing everyone’s leftover prawns into his mouth. Seeing as we were sharing a hotel room I was quite frightened of what the scene in the bathroom was going to be like at 2am.

I’d like to say that we stuck to the agenda and behaved ourselves through dinner but the cocktail “hour” went on way too long and we were restless by the time we got seated. The wine had been flowing since just after the ceremony and the kegs got tapped before the dinner service which meant is was a downhill ride after that. Karl broke the seal, so to speak, at my table by making some anal sex remark about Robin. Normally that would be par for the course (I think some people would have been shocked if he hadn’t said something crude by then) but we were in mixed company and the date of the groom’s old roommate had quite a shocked look on her face. Fortunately laughs broke out all around, more bottles of wine were uncorked, and that was our cue to get stupid.

Shortly thereafter Scott and I were rather loudly discussing masturbation techniques all the while calling out clock times if any booty happened to pass by (6 o’clock. 6! No, your 6!!). I immediately fell in love with one of the waitresses and Scott began taking pictures of her ass every time she passed the table while trying to hide his activities from both the waitress and his girlfriend...Alicia handled it with great aplomb.

So the dinner service was starting to get a little rowdy with all of us maintaining conversations three or four tables away. Fortunately the speeches started (well done by both the best man and the matron of honor) and before we knew it the dinner service was over and so finally was any attempt at decorum. Time to slam ‘em.

The bride’s family has a large, modern, and very nice barn on the ranch which they completely decked out with lights and decorations. They hired a band, parked the kegs right outside the front door, and turned it into a dance hall. And drink and dance we did. Mostly drink.

It didn’t take long for it to become apparent that we were by far the rowdiest and alcoholiciest group at the party although some of Diepolds’s college buddies hung right there with us. Drinking turned to dancing and dancing turned to grinding and then people just started falling all over themselves. All the while we were charging out the barn door for more beer (which I kept feeding to the band trying to get them fucked up) and to piss in the Don Jon’s they had wisely set up outside; wisely because otherwise we would have been pissing all over their very expensive lavender plants.

Things start to get a little blurry once the “dance” portion of the evening began. I definitely attempted some very humorous swing dancing maneuvers with various friends’ girlfriends and at some point someone was doing the worm while the groom’s 10-year-old cousin did back spins. This is the same cousin who was so small, that I and a couple of other people were tossing him back and forth across the dance floor. In retrospect it probably looked like a very bad midget-tossing contest.

Even later on things began to get really hairy. After a few too many keg stands, the beer ran out so the bride’s brother drove a golf cart across the ranch to get the other kegs and bring them back to the barn. Upon seeing the cart and more importantly the beer arrive, I allegedly leapt onto the roof of the golf cart almost toppling it. Now, did I belly-flop onto the roof of the cart? Yes. Did the cart almost topple over? I think that is highly exaggerated. And besides, that is not nearly as bad as what happened next. After I climbed down and concerned myself with more important things (i.e. the newly arrived beer) Piete and Greg stole the golf cart and took it for a little joyride. Drunk behind the wheel and peeling across the turf, Greg steered the thing around the guests, between the barn and the house, and almost barreled into several parked cars before skidding to a gravelly halt. And everyone thought I was an idiot.

Suffice to say we partied until last call and caught a very crowded shuttle for a loud drunken ride back to the hotel (much to the dismay of our surly townie bus driver). No one had any juice left in the tank and so people punched out almost immediately. I tried to rally a few stragglers into causing a ruckus in the town (according to Karl I yelled “Come on, Karl!” 17 times in a row trying to roust from his drunken near-slumber) but my adrenaline rush soon crashed and I turned in for the night. Fortunately for me, Sean knocked it out for the second night in a row and I once again had a nice soft bed all to myself. (The next my morning he declared that "My pee-pee is tired." Priceless.)

I can’t say enough about what an incredible weekend it was. I spent another two days in Seattle but didn’t do a whole lot because my body was punishing me for what I had done to it just days before. But it was worth every hangover. Huge thanks to Brian and Katherine for including me in their big day. They should get married every year.