The Wedding....

The Wedding

So generally there is a code of silence that goes along with bachelor party happenings. Guys generally don’t talk about it, and they certainly don’t write about it. So I hope to God that no one besides people in Florida read this. Of course, I had dinner with Bride, Groom, CHP, and a couple of bridesmaids three weeks ago and CHP got drunk enough to spill some details. I think it went over okay, but I haven’t heard from Groom since then, so who knows. Alright, so the wedding…..

The Wedding was about a month after the bachelor party, and was to be an elaborate affair. 200 guests were invited, and it was held at the famous Fess Parker Hotel in Santa Barbara. For those of you who don’t know, Santa Barbara is famous for two things (three if you count the show Psych): The beach and the parties. So the place clearly had potential for all kinds of craziness, some of which materialized, and some of which did not. Santa Barbara is about 2.5 hours away from Irvine with light traffic, and as a Groosman I had to attend the rehearsal dinner, so that meant two nights at the most famous hotel in Santa Barbara over a weekend. Wonderful. The regular room price was $450 a night, but people with ties to the wedding got a break and we only had to spend $300 per night. Considering the hotel room in Vegas was less than $600 total for three nights, this seemed outrageous. But, there was nothing I could do about it, so I was determined to make the most out of it.

Friday

Much like the start of the bachelor party, I left Irvine around noon and headed up the 405 to pick up CHP. This time he was located in what Californians like to call “The Valley”, about 1.5 hours away from Irvine. More specifically, I picked him up at his parents’ place in Chatsworth, porn capital of the United States. We would be without our third running mate Lefty, who was driving up the day of the wedding with his fiancée, so I thought the vibe would definitely be different. Of course, as soon as I got to CHP’s house we fell into our familiar groove when he said, “first thing we need to do, is go get alcohol”. I quickly agreed and we headed off to the local Bevmo, a liquor store that is about 1.5 times the size of a typical Walgreens (and a place at which we are both literally, card carrying members). We loaded up on Grey Goose, Rum, assorted mixers, and giant cans of some kind of cider. I had barely consumed any alcohol since the bachelor party, so to say that I was looking forward to drinking again was a bit of an understatement. We hit the road ready for an hour long drive up the coast of California. We had barely entered the freeway when events from the bachelor party were brought up:

CHP: Hey, do you think Slappy is pissed at me?

Me: Because of the bachelor party?

CHP: Of course because of the bachelor party! I think he really likes SC.

Me: Well if you knew that, then why’d you do what you did?

CHP: Seriously? I mean, you think I was just gonna turn it down?

Me: Fair enough.

CHP (slightly panicked): Wait, is she coming to the wedding?!

Me: At the bachelor party she told me she probably wasn’t.

CHP: FUCK! She better not. My girlfriend is coming up tonight.

Me (surprised, but not really): Oh, so you’re back together?

CHP: For now….Oh, whatever happened with you and Aspen?

Me: Um, she lives in Colorado, so nothing. I mean, we exchanged e-mails for a little while but that’s died out. Not much to talk about….

CHP: Yeah, that makes sens—HOLY SHIT IS THAT THE RUSSIAN?!!!!

So this is what happened. We had been conversing when we pulled up behind a BMW convertible with the top down. In the driver’s seat was a guy that looked like The Russian. At least as much as we could tell from behind. However, we weren’t entirely sure because we knew Russian hadn’t bought a new car recently, and this car had no rear license plate. Also, there was what looked to be a fairly attractive girl riding shotgun, another rare occurrence for The Russian. The odds seemed ridiculously high that we’d just happen to run across him on a 10 lane freeway at that exact moment considering all of the variables. I mean, if we spend one minute more or less at Bevmo, we never even see him. But it really did look like him. CHP started screaming at me to pull up next to him, so I did. I should mention that I was driving my brother’s Honda CRV, since Groom said he might need the extra trunk space for gifts. When I finally got along side him, we saw that sure enough, it was The Russian. And to make things better, he hadn’t noticed us yet.

This was not going to end well for The Russian, of this much I was sure. The only way it could be worse for him was if I had Groom in my passenger seat (who would undoubtedly drop his pants and moon The Russian). As it was, CHP was practically giddy over the possibilities. As we pulled even with the car, we could see The Russian was engaged in a deep conversation with the girl, clearly trying to impress her. He was looking at the road just as much as he was looking at her. So CHP unbuckled his seatbelt, rolled down his window, and leaned out of the window (saying “leaned” doesn’t really do it justice, he was bent at the waist with his whole torso sticking out of the car) and started making all kinds of crazy motions. At first neither one of them noticed CHP (they must’ve really been into each other), but then suddenly the girl’s eyes got as wide as saucers and she turned even whiter than she already was. I think she was about to scream when The Russian noticed the look on her face and turned and saw us. He started laughing so hard I thought he would crash his car, but the girl looked PISSED. I mean, I could understand her being upset. Imagine you are driving on the freeway while a car pulls up next to you and some random guy is hanging out of the window making all kinds of obscene gestures at you. Still, pissed was not an attractive look for her.

CHP: Dude, from far away, I thought she was hot.

Me: Me too.

CHP: But she’s got a huge nose!

Me: Well, he is a Jew.

CHP: True. Well, I’m not done messing with them yet. Do you have paper and a pen in here somewhere?

I actually had a pen and the directions to CHP’s house as well as the hotel, so CHP began to go to work. All kinds of vulgar signs were created and displayed in my window. However, the last one (“KISS HER!”) got us an unexpected eyeful. The Russian pulled in front of us, slowed down, and then he and Honker (see what I did there?) started making out. At first, CHP and I started laughing, but as it kept going we were disgusted. Finally, CHP told me to pass them. I went one lane over and tried to pass them but The Russian kept speeding up. This frustrated CHP who screamed “GOOOOO!” and then reached over, put his hand on my knee and shoved it down and forward making me literally floor the accelerator. The 9 year old CRV rumbled past them at around 100 MPH and we left them behind as we headed into a narrower part of the freeway with the ocean to our left and high cliffs to our right. We were within the city limits of Santa Barbara.

Our first order of business was finding a place to eat so we could begin our alcohol prep of 2 Pepcid AC’s and a Zyrtec. We planned to begin drinking as soon as we got to the hotel. We grabbed some Quizno’s on a road called State Street. It ran from the ocean to UC Santa Barbara and was literally blocks and blocks of bars. We kept this in mind for later. When we finally got to the hotel, we saw that it definitely lived up to its reputation. Less of a hotel and more of a sprawling campus of rooms, it had the feel of a Spanish villa more than anything else. None of the buildings were taller than three stories so as to keep the horizon in view as best as possible. Groom was in the expansive lobby and after checking in, we immediately asked him to go drink. He sighed and said he couldn’t because he was waiting for Bride to arrive. We told him to join us later if he could, but for now to send Slappy over.

I dropped my stuff off in my room and headed over to CHP’s so we could start drinking. He was already ahead of me and had one of his two bathroom sinks filled with ice and the cans of cider. He took a shot with me and we started drinking rum when there was a knock at the door. It was Slappy. I ushered him in, gave him a shot and asked him straight up if he was pissed at CHP. He said not anymore. We drank in honor of that and then got called to go help unload stuff from Bride’s car. Before I left, CHP conducted a sobriety test on me, reminding me that this was not Vegas and public intoxication laws were not so lax. I failed the sobriety test. Oh well.

Bride was not exactly thrilled to see that we had been drinking, and ended up not entrusting us with anything important to carry (intoxication has its advantages). As a result, we went to the bar where we met up with The Robot and The Russian who explained that Honker was not too happy with us. Everyone drank to that and I was now pretty drunk. This was not a good thing as we were instructed to report to the wedding rehearsal which was at the wedding site located at the far end of the lobby, outdoors in a ridiculously scenic open-aired rotunda. I was informed that me and my bridesmaid were to be the first people of the actual wedding party to enter the ceremony. We had to walk about 100 feet from the exit of the lobby, pivot about 70 degrees and continue for another 150 feet to the front dais, and we had had to do it arm in arm. Well my bridesmaid was at least 8 inches shorter than me, meaning her steps were obviously much smaller than mine. I’d have to concentrate pretty hard not to drag her down the aisle if I was sober. Drunk, it was a near disaster. She had to keep harshly whispering “SLOW DOWN!”. But as bad as I was, CHP was 10 times worse. And once we got everyone standing on the dais, he kept swaying, hugging The Robot or leaning on The Russian. Luckily Groom’s parents have known him forever. I don’t think Bride’s parents were too impressed though. Other than that, the rest of the rehearsal went fine, and we were ushered to the front of the hotel where we were supposed to meet limos to take us to the rehearsal dinner.

Well, we got limos alright. Though they were about 20 years old, white, and had colorful advertising all over them. I quickly deemed them NASCAR limos and everyone agreed. The limo ride over was pretty crazy. There were three groomsman, three bridesmaids, and the wedding planner and her husband (Neighbor, who made a brief cameo in the bachelor party story). CHP drunkenly called his girlfriend who was on her way up after work and started screaming at her because she was going to be late to the rehearsal dinner. Then he told her the wrong room number and generally made an ass out of himself in front of 5 people who barely knew him. It was not one of his finest moments.

The rehearsal dinner was (surprisingly) American food buffet style and there were a lot more people than I though there would be. All of Bride and Groom’s extended family were there, and the significant others of the bridesmaids, as well as some random other people. All told there were at least 80 people dining on the second floor patio of a seafood restaurant overlooking the ocean. Everything was paid for by Groom’s parents including the drinks. But while CHP began ordering up round after round and acting crazy, I did not. I was sobering up, and in an environment with that many people I didn’t know, I planned to stay that way. Pretty soon CHP’s girlfriend showed up, took one look at him and immediately cut him off. This made him angry but after they finished eating, she apologized for his behavior to Bride, and dragged him out of the restaurant. Witch CHP gone, Lefty not due in until tomorrow, and Groom attending to groom type duties I was pretty much left without drinking partners.

I only ever drink with people. I mean, alcohol is just one giant social crutch for me, so what the hell is the point for me to drink alone? Plus, once you start drinking alone on a consistent basis, its all just downhill from there.

After Bride and Groom finished doing their toasts, the bridesmaids got up and toasted the bride and groom. The remaining groomsman looked at each other, no one made the first move and so an awkward moment went by where everyone expected us to do a toast, and none of us did. At that moment I wished I had been drinking more. People started to leave and it was only 8:30 at night. I wondered what the hell I was going to do for the rest of the night. I had planned on a night of drinking with CHP and the rest of the groomsman, but now that he was gone it looked like the night might fizzle out. I was scared to get drunk with Slappy, The Russian brought Honker, and The Robot wouldn’t stay out if The Russian didn’t.

Just as I was starting to get a little depressed, I heard a loud commotion and someone triumphantly shouting their entrance to the patio. I turned and saw Stockton, Malone, and Macbook enter the restaurant. I had no idea that they were coming up the day before the wedding, and their arrival was definitely uplifting. Those goofy handshake, half hug things were exchanged all around and pretty soon some drinking started. Groom took the brunt of it and had to leave to throw up. Bride asked The Robot to take Groom home, so they left. By this time all of the families had left as well as the bridesmaids. Stockton and Malone started smoking which resulted in Honker giving them the evil eye and declaring that she hates the smell of smoke. So the Russian had to leave as well.

Malone’s wife, who I’ll call Cheerleader (since she comes to all of our games, and could in fact pass for an Asian cheerleader) also came. I have a lot of respect for Cheerleader as she is an attorney and works for a pretty prestigious firm, yet also can party just as hard as Stockton and Malone. So the six of us got plastered with Groom’s dad and a couple of his relatives. Finally, the relatives left and it was just us younger people that drinking. Then we noticed that Groom’s parents were just sitting at a far table half asleep and we realized they were waiting for us to finish drinking so they could close out the tab but they didn’t want to cut us off. Of course, this made us feel like crap and we decided to leave after apologizing profusely and giving them much thanks.

Macbook booked a room at a different hotel and decided to head back to his room where he left his girlfriend. Slappy and I discussed the fact that we should probably head back to the room but when we told that to Stockton he was pissed. And we got peer pressured into staying out and drinking more. Our first plan was State Street but it was too far away to walk. I mentioned that CHP had liquor in his room so we decided to take bike cabs (where some dude on a bike pulls a cart with a seat behind him). On the way to the bike cab station, I am talking with Cheerleader and we are having a pretty spirited conversation when she cuts me off:

Cheerleader: You know I’ve been coming to your games for like 5 years now.

Me: Yeah, that sounds about right.

Cheerleader: And yet before tonight, you’ve never talked to me.

Me: I went to your wedding.

Cheerleader: But you didn’t talk to me there either.

Me: In fairness to me, I wasn’t drunk at your wedding. Nor am I drunk when I play basketball.

Cheerleader: So you’ll only talk to me when you’re drunk?

Me: No. I only talk to new people when I am drunk. You are not a new person anymore, so I’ll talk to you from now on.

Cheerleader: Well alright then.

Social crutch indeed. Although I do talk to new people even when I am not drunk, they have to initiate conversation with me, otherwise it’s probably not happening.

Obviously it took two bike cabs to transport us, and Stockton, Malone, and Cheerleader were in one cab and me and Slappy were in the other. Malone’s cab was about 30 feet in front of us, and suddenly Malone yelled back to me, “Rich! Tits or ass?” Remember, this is out in the open, with people walking all over the place, so I was not sure if I should yell out either one. I finally yelled back “Both!”, and the cab driver said that was a good answer. Then Cheerleader yelled back, “Well we know which one Slappy prefers!” Apparently bachelor party stories aren’t all sacred. As we approached different signal lights, Stockton, Malone, Cheerleader, and their cab driver/pedaler asked various pedestrians (guys and girls) their preference of tits or ass. This being a college town, some of the answers were very inventive, and even our cab driver started to get in on it. When we finally got back to the hotel we called CHP but he didn’t pick up. We called again, but he still didn’t pick up. We decided that this was unacceptable and headed towards his room, but not before stopping along the way and kidnapping Groom and The Robot. Both of them were watching TV and definitely looked ready to turn in for the night and initially resisted coming out. We wouldn’t take no for an answer though, and with our increased numbers we stalked off to CHP’s room, and that was when the craziness truly began:

-We arrive at CHP’s room and knock on the door but no one answers. I call him but he does not pick up. Being that close to unobtainable alcohol means frustration sets in, and Stockton and Malone take turns pounding on CHP’s door for 5 minutes straight. Literally. I keep calling every 10 or 15 seconds (later I found out that he had 22 missed calls from me) and everyone else mills around looking like they can’t believe we are causing this kind of ruckus at midnight in this nice hotel. I keep thinking it is a miracle that the people in the rooms next to CHP haven’t come out to yell at us.

-After getting no response from CHP we head back to Stockton, Malone, and Cheerleader’s room. They have a suite that easily fits all of us and Stockton calls Macbook to let him know that he might have to make a liquor store run. As that conversation is going on, I make one last call to CHP who actually answers! I yell at him not to hang up and explain our situation. Me, Stockton, and Malone take off for CHP’s room and drag him and the alcohol back to the suite. On the way back an attractive woman enters a hotel room and inside we see three or four other attractive women and at this moment Malone shoves me towards the door and it thankfully(?) shuts right before I hit it.

-Once we start drinking things of course get pretty loud. Someone mentions that it would be fun to have The Russian here, so we convince Groom to call him and tell him to bring Groom’s tux (which The Russian brought to the wedding) to the suite. When he shows up, he looks stunned to see all of us and tries to leave before we make him drink. But Malone and CHP prevent him from doing so by wrestling him to the ground three separate times in a clash of the titans:

Round 1: The Russian is standing in the main section of the suite, CHP is standing right in front of the door and Malone is in between them. There is a narrow hallway that leads from the main section to the door so that means The Russian can’t go around them, but rather has to go through them. The Russian charges and Malone hits him high. They are dead even for a second before The Russian tosses Malone to the side. Clearly going high on The Russian won’t work. Before he can make any progress though, CHP crashes into him chest to shoulder and knocks him to the ground.

Round 2: As a result of the last confrontation, Malone is guarding the door and CHP is directly in front of The Russian. CHP tries to go high again and The Russian throws him down. But before The Russian can get up a head of steam, Malone goes low and takes The Russian’s legs out from under him.

Round 3: CHP and Malone are arranged in the order of Round 1. Malone again tries to go low, but The Russian anticipates and muscles him to the ground. CHP comes charging in, but The Russian puts him into a wall and lunges for the door. He gets it about a foot open before Malone comes flying out of nowhere and throws his full weight against the door slamming it shut. This was The Russian’s best effort and he knows it. He has nothing left and agrees to drink with us.

-Of course it was a miracle that no one was hurt, but their actions were not without consequences, and we got a noise warning from the hotel. At this point we decided to take our party to the bar in the lobby. Stockton nearly gets in a fight with the bartender when they tell him its hotel policy not to serve shots. After we calm him down, we order a round of drinks and then another. By the third round when the bartender hands Groom his drink, it falls right out of Groom’s hand and crashes to the ground. After that we decided it was time to call it a night. On the way back to our rooms, a group of Groomsmen for another wedding are sitting in the lobby with a cooler full of alcohol and attempt to fight us. We manage to avoid confrontation and crash for the night.

Saturday

We had to be in The Robot’s room by 11 AM to get our makeup done. Yes, I said makeup. Believe me I had no idea we would be wearing makeup until we got the wedding schedule two days before the wedding. I felt like crap even after I showered and stumbled over to The Robot’s room. When it was my turn to get my makeup done, the makeup lady took one look at me and said, “man, I can tell you were out late last night”. I mean, I usually have bags under my eyes anyways, but it was even worse that day. She did the best she could to make me look half decent and sent me on my way.

Drinking before the wedding was strictly forbidden by Bride so I was relatively quiet for all of the pre-wedding stuff that went on. Nothing eventful happened except for the fact that Groom kept yelling out that he was prettier than Bride. The wedding was pretty much a normal wedding with some Asian twists (drinking sake during the ceremony), and my bridesmaid said she was pleased that I didn’t drag her all the way to the platform. This all of course leads to the wedding reception…which had an open bar.

As a gift for each of the groomsman, Groom got us all personalized Nike ID basketball shoes. On the back of the shoe, it had a sort of nickname he gave each one of us. Mine said “Enforcer”. I was pleased. The shoes were a bright light blue, and Bride gave us permission to wear them during the reception which of course was great, and actually got the groomsmen a lot of attention and photographs. The wedding party had to wait outside of the reception hall to make what was deemed a “Grand Entrance”, something I was not told about before hand. We would be entering the reception hall in pairs and cross the dance floor where, we were told, we were supposed to dance with our partner in front of the 200 or so guests. I was the first groomsman in line, and I was not happy. CHP magically appeared with alcohol for me to drink but it wasn’t enough. I told my bridesmaid that I was not nearly drunk enough to dance, and she warned me that I better do something, to at least strut in with her, because she was going to bust a move when she got out there. Before I could do anything to attempt to get out of this (like fake a heart attack), my bridesmaid and I were introduced and the song “Sexy Back” started playing. This was going to be horrible. We entered arm in arm and I did my best to strut but I had no idea what I was doing. As we crossed the dance floor she started dancing (actually pretty well), and I did the only thing I could do: I took a step or two back and extended an arm in her direction as if I was directing the audience’s attention toward her. The crowd applauded its approval and I was thankfully off the dancing hook…for now.

Before dinner, there was the traditional father daughter dance with some sappy song going on. Then all of a sudden the music changed to Soulja Boy and Bride and her father started doing the Soulja Boy Superman dance. Then they transitioned back to the sappy song at the end. When I say this was totally unexpected, I mean no one knew, not even Bride’s mother. This had everyone in tears we were laughing so hard (imagine a Chinese man in his 60’s doing that dance). Even the DJ was cracking up. When it was over, they of course got a standing ovation. I thought there was no way Groom could ever top that. I was wrong.

Groom and his mom didn’t even make an attempt at dancing to some sappy song. They instead jumped right into Michael Jackson’s Thriller. And while that got a roar of approval, it got even better when all of a sudden Groom’s sister and a bunch of his cousins jumped on the dance floor and they all danced like in the graveyard scene of the music video. They also got a standing ovation. I later found out that he wanted the Groomsmen to do it too, but wisely thought better of it.

The bar was located on the patio just outside the reception hall, and this is where the bachelor party guys had a fateful reunion and took a ridiculous amount of shots. There was also a photo booth next to the bar, and we crammed the entire wedding party (12 people) into a regular sized photobooth. It was a tight fit, but at least there were relatively attractive girls in there with us. The next photo we crammed anyone who ever played on our basketball team inside (10 guys) and held up self made signs that had all kinds of vulgarities on them. Then CHP went and took some very disturbing photos in the photobooth all by himself. I should mention that there was a monitor outside the photobooth so we could all see what was going on in there. They are images that will forever be burned into my mind unfortunately.

The bartender did not have Grey Goose, and that seemed almost unreal considering Groom’s allegiance to that particular brand of vodka. So I was stuck when trying to come up with a mixed drink (holding off on the shots for the moment). I was already at 8+ drinks so I wasn’t thinking that quickly, when the most attractive bridesmaid slapped me on the back of the head and told me to take a sip of her drink: Maker’s Mark and Coke. It was outstanding. I had never had it before, but it was just different enough from Jack and Coke for me to find the taste refreshingly new. With Grey Goose and Red Bull unavailable, I would lean on a Maker’s and Coke (with the occasional shot of Tequila thrown in) in order to drink the night away.

10 months later and I am adding some final thoughts, though that line would be a pretty fitting end to the write up.

-At one point in time I was dancing with people. I don’t really remember who I was dancing with, but I was dancing. Keep in mind, I was at least 15 drinks in by this point.

-Stockton and Malone thought it would be a good idea to wear their ties on their head, and pretty soon the entire basketball team was doing it. The problem was, all the Groomsmen had to wear clip on ties so we had a hell of a time getting them to stay on our heads. That’s when Cheerleader stepped in to help out. I soon started calling her an expert and was convincing all the Groomsman to line up and get tie serviced by her. We even got Bride’s dad to do it too. We definitely looked awesome.

-With about 30 minutes left in the sanctioned part of the night, I was sitting in a chair resting when Malone grabbed the end of my tie and forcibly dragged me out of the chair and onto the dance floor. I got thrust into the middle of a circle and got bounced around by people who wouldn’t let me escape. Luckily a friend of ours got thrown in and I snuck out when he started doing the Carlton dance from Fresh Prince. The DJ realized this and quickly threw on the “Jump on It” song which resulted in literally the entire dance floor doing the dance. Yes, even me.

-Finally it was time to say goodbye to the actual wedding. But not the night. A few of us decided to head out to O’Mally’s bar on State Street for more drinking and dancing. I drank beer in order to sober up and danced with some girls that CHP brought over until I was sober enough to be mortified by my actions.

-At about 2AM the night started dying out and we all decided we needed food. Pizza. Seven of us managed to stumble out of the bar and buy two large pizzas from an all night pizza shop. Total Damage: $80. No joke. We got van cab and the driver laughed at us for paying so much money for the pizza. I couldn’t blame him.

-We made it back to the hotel and grabbed some table in the already closed bar and ate our expensive pizza. Everyone was exhausted and for the most part we were all pretty quiet. When the last slice was eaten, someone said, “Well, I guess that’s it”. And with that, we all went our separate ways. I was finally relieved of my Groomsman duties and for the most part I was happy to be done with the whole thing. But damn did I have a good time.