random thoughts and thoroughbred selections

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

So What Happened?

I had a great night on Thursday. I picked up my friend from the airport, and we roll over to a nearby sushi joint for dinner. I take my digital voice recorder, test it, and turn it on at the table, with the intent of transcribing parts of our conversation.

I tested it fine, I just didn�t turn it on properly again. The whole idea of interviewing my friend spontaneously just went right down the drain.

But I did have some pretty damn good sushi out of the deal. $75 worth between the two of us, to be exact.

Friday started out with a round of golf, which my dad was able to finagle at the club for all of $15/person. That was terrific, as it�s normally in the $45 range to play there. Considering we had a 225 person event coming back the next night, they could afford it. Anyway, I hung an amazing 51 on the front nine, absolutely blistering more than a couple of shots with my jerry-rigged swing. Of course, I chased it with a 61, and wasn�t too thrilled with 112.

Right after golf, my dad, brother, and friend (N) started in with the big beers. In Utah, the beer is what they call "3/2," which means it's basically half strength. You can't even buy "microbrews" in the grocery store (or wine, or alcohol), and have to belong to a "private club" or be eating at a restaurant (eating, not just drinking) in order to have something stronger than the watered down stuff.

Anyway, five big beers later, and N is wasted. He excused himself from the rehearsal dinner and passed out on my couch for the night. Sucker.

The rehearsal dinner was mercifully short. Not that it wasn't an OK time or anything, just that with Saturday promising to be a long damn day, and my friend I hadn't seen for two years back at my place, well, I wanted out.

And I was right about Saturday.

First off, I got in a fight that morning with my brother the groom. You see, this was another one of those cases where I'm told one thing, they make other plans and don't tell me, I make a suggestion that can accommodate both ways, and he gets argumentative. Basically, he had originally told me we were going to meet at the reception site prior to our call at the church, that way his car would be there for him later. Since we had no limo/bus transportation from ceremony to reception, I was elected to drive.

No problem, but I was going to start getting stoned at the first available moment, and I was counting on being able to drive a car I was comfortable driving - mine. All of a sudden, plans change and that's unacceptable. I now have to drive his car with people in it between church and reception. I try to tell him I can get his car down there no problem (N = other driver), but he starts yelling, and I hang up on him. Bob offers to drive, solving that problem and letting me get my buzz on early.

Thank god too, as pictures took for-fucking-ever. We were on call at the photographer's whim from 1230PM - 3PM, then the ceremony (short) from 3PM - 345PM, and then pictures straight from there to 630PM. That's when issue number two came up.

I pulled into the reception site right behind the photographer (who had an unbelievably hot 17 year old assistant none of us could quit drooling over) and asked her if the wedding party was needed any further. She said no, we were free to go, and that meant I could finally have a freaking beer. I grabbed Bob and a couple other guys from the party and headed into the pro shop bar, as to not make our big entrance into the party yet.

We weren't halfway through our beers when the manager of the grill there said we were wanted, and ushered us out front. That's where my brother started berating us for ditching him when there were pictures left to take. He wouldn't let anyone get the full sentence, "But the photographer said we were excused" out of our mouths. He even dropped the "f bomb" in front of a few arriving guests. Oy. He got the best man so irritated that he was musing over the idea of just up and leaving. Not that he would, but it was one of those "woulda served him right" moments.

Yes, you're stressed, we get it.

Anyway, the party was fun. There were about 225 people there, including a number of people from my family I hadn't seen in a decade plus. I spent most of my time outside smoking cigarettes and missed quite a bit of the festivities, including most of the planned dances, the bouquet toss, cutting of the cake, etc.

At about 1130PM, my dad and his wife ambled drunkenly out to their car for their mile long trip back to the house. I saw them leave, and shortly thereafter saw JS, one of the ushers, come running up to me asking if the blue Buick was mine. It was, why? Well, apparently my dad hit my front end pretty squarely when pulling out of his parking spot. Even though JS saw it (and heard it), my dad remembers nothing. Nice drunken hit and run old man... at least there wasn't any damage I could see.

After the wedding? How about some midnight poker? We decided on two games of five players each, considering we were ten strong and all pretty toasted. I learned one valuable lesson that night. Don't bluff against someone who just wants to go home. I was holding nothing, saw Queens pair on the board and pushed all-in, as I knew my opponent didn't have a Queen. He didn't, but his 85o paired on the flop, and he was trying to bleed all his chips away. Damn. At least it was only a $5 game.

Actually, I tend to play at my worst when I know it's me and four calling stations. In theory, I should just wait for the rockets and move only then. But no, I had to play cute. Well, it was late, I was baked, and I kinda wanted to just go home too.

Overall, it was a fun weekend, and I got to see some old friends and family from way way back. Of course, it'll be no Bash at the Boathouse, but it was pretty OK anyway.

[>>]posted at 8:22 PM by BG - click to email
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