Wading in the Velvet Sea

I have infinite patience for a lot of things. I used to be able to spend hours coiling lighting cable back when I did theatre productions. Didn’t bother me in the least. Jigsaw puzzles…no problem. But waiting for my FRICKIN’ PLAIN JUNIOR BACON CHEESEBURGER….ok, well, I just don’t have the patience. As I looked around at all the awards some guy named “Ted Lewinsky” had won for “Excellence in Service”, the panorama of awards seemed to mock my attempt to have my 99 cent burger of goodness. The very fabric of “fast food” was being torn asunder. Jenny, sensing that I’ve gone completely Mr. Furious from “Mystery Men”, wisely let’s me chomp the living hell out of the burger for a while before attempting to speak to me.

When we get to my parents’ house, my brother and his friend Gina are already there, watching a video of another wedding. Being the film studs that they are (film partners as undergrads at Ithaca), they have been volunteered by my Mom to do the wedding video. When Jenny and I walk in, it’s the part of the video where the wedding party is giving their well-wishes to the newly married couple. Nearly every guy’s speech contains “dude, don’t get whipped”, “I’m so frickin’ drunk”, “assmonkey”, or a combination therein. Nearly every girl curiously has the phrase, “Paul, I remember the first night you slept in my bed…” Not the tone we wanna be setting for the day. I needed another shower at this point to cleanse my soul.

So, as you’ll recall, the walking in arrangements were only slightly less complex and debated that the Treaty of Versailles. So, we skip ahead now to this part of the day. We’re all assembled in the back of the church behind the closed door. My mother decides to screw the priest’s edict and have my cousin first walk in my grandmother, go to the side of the church, walk ALL the way back along the side, get my mom and aunt, and walk down again. “So we’re ignoring the priest, eh Ma?” I ask. “Um, yes. Exactly,” her non God-fearing self replied.

In hindsight, I should have seen this coming when she referred to him as “Father F$ck-All” at the rehearsal dinner. I kid you not. My mom up until that point had never stunned my brother into silence. Mazel tov, Ma.

Long story short, the walking in goes fine. The ceiling no longer looks like a segment of Hogwart’s. The ceremony itself is short and simply lovely. All goes according to plan and start to finish is about 30 minutes. I do my reading and sound vaguely like James Earl Jones. I don’t necessarily like church, but I like its acoustics.

So, the reception is about 5 miles away in a hotel. We check into our room, with Jenny here doing her best Vanna White:

We’re seated, among other, with my cousin Dave and his wife Alex:

We are also sitting with my cousins Mike and Valerie, their dates, and Casey and Gina. We’re seating right next to the head table, next to the family table, as you can see:

various members of my family

during the toast….

some of the bridemaids….

more photo opportunities for the fam…

As you can tell my now, our family is made up of a bunch of photo whores. Seriously. We used to try and complain, but really, we’ve just given up. This led to an unfortunate development by college of “The Ryan McGee Cardboard Cutout”, which yielded the precisely same expression and head titl in every picture from 1994 to 1998. Seriously, you can look it up. Well, you can’t, but I can and did. It’s this toothy, utterly sincerely, head to the left at 27 degrees thing going on. But I digress.

If my eldest cousin Jen had been camera-shy, she might have spared the lot of us. But no. I mean, look:

with the bride, arguing about gas prices

striking a pose…

A thorn between two roses, wait, I mean…(It helps to know she won’t read this whereas the two men in this picture will…)

with her brother and sister, Mike and Valerie (“They look more LA than LA people,” according to Moxie, which amuses me since they are from New Hampshire and Iowa.)

after about 16 Bud Lights, later that night

So, it’s all her fault, really. If you wanna know where to direct hate mail for the influx of photos here, you know where to go. She’s in Iowa. Where, you ask? C’mon, it’s Iowa, it’s not like it’s a big state. Shouldn’t be that hard to find her.

Well, the night is progressing nicely, and Jenny and I are looking quite dapper, if I may say so:

Rico….suave….

And another look at the “Hell, I’d do me” jacket, because, well, it's my website, damnit:

And let me tell you something. There’s a lot of talk today about how alcohol is a bad thing. How it’s tainting our youth. How it’s a corruptive force in society. How Prohibition may have been on to something. Well, all I’m saying is, when I get called before a Senate subcommittee meeting on this topic, I’ll proudly sit before them and declare:

“Well, yes sir, but it got Jenny dancing her little booty off for the first time since I’ve dated her, so really, how wrong CAN it be? I ask you as American citizens! Ye God men, this is what Francis Scott Key was thinking of when he wrote our National Anthem!”

“Um, you are trying to tell this committee that Francis Scott Key was thinking of your girlfriend shaking her ass in the Westford Regency?”

“Hell yes, Senator Lott! Let me present Exhibit A:

Note the lighting in the background, proving she was actually on the dance floor, itself a remarkable achievement, but wait, there’s more:

Proof of movement! And yet more:

She fought the “I Squish your Head” Guy from “The Kids in the Hall”! She was all over the place, I tell ya. So keep the wine flowing, I say, on behalf of all freedom-loving citizens in this fine land of ours!”

So off the punditizing and back to the issue at hand, the happy couple of the day:

Awww….

Good luck to you two lucky kids…