1. Of course I'm getting a ride to the hotel. Of course it's from my folks. I am 35-years-old.
2. Dad asks me about the wedding, and I tell him the couple's names who are getting married, Bens marrying them. Him: I like her and Ben; they're a cute couple. Me: (actually don't have the heart to tell him): Pa you have the worst gaydar ever, you're a fucking pastor, marrying=officiating. He goes back to weeding. I pour a stiff G&T.
3. Jailbreak! Sis is taking me to the hotel. This is mostly a smoke break for the two of us, but also a moment, for me, to reflect what I'm walking into. The White Stripes are on--this evening shall be caustic.
4. Hotel: nap time!
5. The shower has these three other shower heads coming out the rear end. I don't know if I should be singing "At the Carwash" or "Maniac"
6. No Tommy Boy fans? Seriously?
7. I'm lost. This fucking fuckly fuck is fuckity fucker fucked. Minneapolis is too organized. You need directions by bars. So say we all.
[40 minutes later]
8. I'm here. There is literally nothing except Grumpy's. I reason if nothing emerges: grab a drink at Grumpy's, walk back to the hotel, pick up a bar maid and go to bed. Then there is a stupid sign saying this is the place. Fuck.
9. I'm sweating like a fat man's fart. For my moist handicap I take a respite to the bathroom. I don't know anybody. This was a mistake.
10. This is truly a Wisconsin wedding, flush with beer and healthy looking people who will enjoy a Big Mac and a side of mayo on their way home after polishing off fifteen beers. You can't stop them--just needs let them run their course.
11. Dear friends, this is the land beyond the singles table. I had anticipated this being akin to the music video for Passion Pit's 'Constant Conversation'. I'm playing my part by staring out the window, but it's only a ploy to make myself seem interesting and deep. These sheep herders are all wise to my shallow and derisive ways. When in doubt accoutrement!
12. The same two fucking women who guided me in are still outside! What's worse, Tonic is here as well. I smoke my accoutrement, facing the other way. I favor them by lifting the suit coat jacket to show them the goods.
13. They have left. *sigh* still got it.
14. Plying my alcohol intake towards the nuclear option.
15. Thank God for the gays. Any asshole (ha!) who doesn't love them should rot in hell. Nate rescued me to the fire escape. But drat. "Mmmhm Beer" [We've actually done clinical studies, and it's nothing against her, but this is the way she thinks: beer or mmmhm] is here. At this point beggars should not be choosers as far as who he talks to. The rain dripping off the wall is still far more interesting than her. Must needs grab her a beer.
15 1/2. forgot to tell you about a conversation with two lesbians about the worst three words you could ever say to a woman. They are: "moist", "panties" and I forget the third...
16. So J says hello. I guess that's cool. I remain quite bitter. Eh, who cares. This is the antithesis of the entire party: a simple game of who isn't talking to whom and how to piss off those who actually are talking to whom. [allow four measures to yawn] It's simply exhausting, but maybe a good weight loss program. It's not working for them, but keep trying!
17. Let's do the time warp! I'm chatty, making friends with everybody. A women out on the fire escape drops her purse. She's wearing a skirt, and I'm waiting for a perv to walk out of Grumpy's parking lot and look up. Good life choices.
18. I do the photo booth with groom's dad but think it's the bride's. I tell her as much and she reminds me her dad died a year ago, and couldn't walk her down the aisle. Now I'm the asshole.
19. Dance! Strange partners emerge in front of me. A silver hair rips off my tie, shimmying me to the tune of John Lee Hooker. I'm obviously only doing this for an audience of one.
20. Party is winding down and we jump a shuttle back to the hotel. The bride and groom are fighting. This is usually the measure of a successful wedding.
21. The modern age as explained via text... me: Take care of the bride 533; me: By that I mean I'm in room 533; her: Funny just got back to my room; me: Sounds boring; her: Perhaps. Have a corkscrew? I'm in 814...
22. Smoke 'em if you got 'em! We slam against the wall before the door shuts. She's mouth raping me in what would best be depicted by a scene from the former reality show "When Animals Attack". I play her like a Stradivarius; she's, well, there?
23. I do not like waking up when it's dark out. The curtains were drawn for modesty, and she's in the bathroom. I can't leave after the last time, so: yay, here I am.
24. Released and now comes the realization that all of my cigarettes were left in her room. Again to the maze of Minneapolis and the fresh new layers of hell this will bring.
25. At Team Liquors (actual place, I took a picture!), admiring the fifths of booze the bums will buy. Now I understand why they have a security guard working the door at 10 am.
Coda: I'm driving, smoking, working the stick shift in the truck while talking to V. I'd been planning on listening to a certain set of songs before she called, but their absence makes this realization more poignant. I describe the night, telling her what happened, but can't describe why I feel so hollow. Inadvertently I text G that I've slain another dragon then delete it-- it wasn't the right statement; it was just Tonic. The stupid search for the girl all the songs are for continues... V. and I always say we only want the people who don't want us. I tell this to G, and he comes back that maybe I do want something better or at least I found worst better.
Time to head back to Saint Paul.
