During my father's recent visit, he told me a few stories about when he was much younger, in his 20s, acting up in college, having fun out and about, and so on. I had heard some of the stories before, but really enjoyed hearing my dad tell them again. As always, it is nice to have memories of good times.
Yesterday afternoon, after a visit to the gym, I stopped by the pub to see who was around, and was delighted to encounter one of the old bar tenders and his girlfriend. Both had just arrived from Australia, where they have lived the last couple of years. The weather was brilliant, so it made for an easy decision to sit around for a few afternoon beers. Paul is Scottish and grew up in Frankfurt with his 3 brothers, all of whom I know. Paul's brother started working in the pub just as Paul left for Australia, and actually moved to Australia himself just at the end of 2017. They both started a trend, as one more brother will move down under next week, leaving the fourth brother to stick it out in Frankfurt.
All four of the brothers are pretty good guys, but can be rowdy when it suits them. The few times that I have met their mother, I imagined that more often than not, she had her hands full with the gang. True, most times that I have been around all of them together, we have been at the pub, so to some extent I can understand why at least one brother invariably got a beer poured on them. Despite the moments of strife, I always got the feeling that all four brothers are pretty close, and I am always reminded of my own experiences with my close friends from childhood and university; my "brothers."
Paul and his girlfriend were in Frankfurt just as a stopover. They are headed to Estonia to attend a wedding of another former barman from the pub. As we sat around enjoying the sunshine yesterday afternoon, they were discussing the upcoming antics that would be taking place later this week at the wedding. As I sat their laughing and listening, I got to thinking about brother Tim's wedding, which took place 18 years ago during pretty much the same weekend.
So, I reach back into the archives to share a little story of Tim and Shan's special event back in 2000, obviously from my perspective. I have elected to edit this from the original just slightly. The original story was only shared with about 8 people, most all of which are very familiar with the local references and certainly the circumstances of May 2000.
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So here it is, Wednesday afternoon, May 3rd. It's been a hellish day. At 7h15 I was checking emails, thinking I would have all day to do stuff. I had a couple of lattes, then decided to go off to buy a money order and drop off the dry cleaning.
I took my stuff downstairs, then realized that my left front tire was totally flat. I was like, crap crap,crap, then panic: I had to have the money order before my 9h15 appointment. I changed the tire, got to the cleaners, then ran by Krogers for the money order, then headed for downtown, debating whether or not there was time for another coffee.
Three cars were pulling into Starbucks when I drove by, so I skipped the coffee run and kept driving downtown to get to my appointment with the parole officer. It started raining like hell and traffic was a slow go. It turns out that there was a blinking stop light at Oak Lawn and Harry Hines. I was in no mood to be late, and at 9h12 I thought I was not going to make it.
Somehow, I got parked and inside the facility for my appointment, which took all of six minutes. Of course, I had to go next door through the metal detectors to pay my fee. Of course, the overweight security guard didn't want to have to stand up and wand me, so she made me walk through and set the detector off three times, then finally let me through. I paid up and thought about how unpleasant Dallas can be with its treatment of criminals.
I headed back to the Starbucks at Knox St and grabbed a couple of lattes using some bev coupons (courtesy of my Grandmommy, who absolutely rocks). Some lady was sitting next to the espresso bar and said, "ooh, that beverage looks soooooo good" each time the barista made a drink.
I bugged out, got home, read a couple of emails, and send a couple more. Then, I put on some Bosstones (Mighty Mighty) and tried to get shit straight. It was time to fix the tire. I phoned up NTB and spoke with Carlos, who said, "Come on up." I drove straight to the tire place, and Carlos told me to come back at 13h. I still had a lot to do, but thought it's OK. I could still get it done.
I left NTB on foot, dressed for a soccer match, briefcase strapped to my back, phone in hand. I was cracking myself up walking a couple of blocks to the nearest Starbucks. (Yes, for anyone who is counting, I was on course for a million shots of espresso...) It was raining hard, I was wet, but I got there, ordered drinks, and made a few calls for work stuff.
For the next couple of hours I sat outside, reading Ayn Rand and writing bad poetry (the showers fall on may flowers/i'm not smoking i'm not choking/those that made me quit are full of shit) and hoped that my car would be ready soon.
At a little past 12, the rain stopped, so I walked back to the tire place and watched a little television in the waiting area. Finally, the guy stuck his head into the room and told me my car was ready. As he gave me my change, he was like, "Hey, thanks a lot for stopping by today!"
I was like, "Hey, thanks so much for charging me 110 dollars!"
After the tire store stop, I went to the gym, had a great workout, followed by a tasty smoothie. I went home, made a quick call to a colleague, then took a shower.
By this time, it was almost 14h, and I realized that I needed to provide the finance team with the monthend billings. I quickly generated the reports, sent them to my colleague, and at 14h25 was on my way to the laundromat.
10 minutes later, the clothes were in the wash, and I spent a few minutes talking on the phone with my customer about our business review which would be held the next week. I was a little worried about how that meeting would go; I was pretty sure that I would be getting my ass kicked, but fuck it. That would be next week's problem.
Once that conversation ended, I put the clothes in the dryer, then called my boss to report in, giving him an update on my chat with our customer. Once that call ended, I took a moment to empty my car of the coffee cups I had accumulated during the course of the day. Outside the laundromat, I walked over to the dumpster, and along with the cups, inadvertently threw my mobile phone inside.
Total fucking gross out.
I had to put most of my body inside the dumpster and managed to grab the phone, which had some "stuff" on it. I scraped it on the sidewalk to clean it as best as I could. I had not felt so stupid since 7h50 that morning, when a friend pointed out the misspelling I had made in a global email I had sent out announcing that I would be out of the office for the remainder of the week.
I went back inside to take the clothes out of the dryer, then called Tim. He is the reason for all the rushing about. After all, in three days, I was to be the best man at his wedding. We chatted briefly, and I confirmed that I would be down in Austin the following morning. "Wow, I hear kids," he said.
"Yep, it is romper room here at the laundromat," I responded, electing to skip the story of the gunky mobile in the dumpster.
I took the clothes back home, then sped over to Anita's for a trim, then at 16h15 found myself sitting down at the Old Monk for a beer, some quiet time, and some dinner. I figured I would stay there until I was comfortable with my groom's toast (liquor? I never even knew her...)
Thursday, May 4. 6am. I was totally awakened by a rainstorm. I thought that was pretty cool, until I remembered that I was going to have to drive down to Austin in the rain. I made a couple of coffees and started packing for the weekend. I felt remarkably great considering the number of beers I had had the night before. I had another coffee, listened to more music, and kept getting ready.
By 8h15, I was just about set, and went up to the big house to pay Chris rent. We chatted for a few minutes, and I begged him not to destroy the apartment during the 15 keg party that there were going to have over the weekend. After a quick stop to pick up the dry cleaning, I picked up a couple more lattes at Starbucks, then headed south. The rain wasn't too bad, but still pretty heavy. Maybe the visibility could have been better, but I was on vacation and doing a road trip. I was not going to let anything stand in my way.
Two hours later, I was getting drowsy, but rolled down the car window, put in another crazy goth-rock tape, and finished my latte. I perked up, and realized I only had another 30 minutes of driving before I got to Tim's house.
I powered on, and finally exited the highway. A few minutes later I was rolling up to the house. Back in the day, I would have jumped out of the car, smoked a cigarette, then walked to the front door. This time, I just got out of the car, stood there a moment smoke free, then Tim's mom and nephews came outside.
We exchanged greetings, then went inside. Most of Tim's family had already arrived in Austin: his sister, his brother and family, and an aunt and uncle. His sister offered me a beer (priorities, you know), then showed me around the house. Tim and his fiance Shannon arrived home (after a half day of work) to start the official wedding festivities. They would be off of work until after their honeymoon.
We continued having a few beers as more family arrived, then took a trip to Wal-Mart to pick up some patio furniture. Wal-Mart is fun as hell to go to, especially with a couple who are going to get married in 48 hours. I had a great time messing with their heads.
Tim's brother and kids arrived at the store, and all of us rolled buggies up and down the aisles picking up all kinds of stuff. At one point, an employee asked if we were having a scavenger hunt (we were hunting toy harmonicas). I said, yes, of course. Buying things to entertain a 2 year old, a 4 year old, and a large group of drunk 30 somethings can be called whatever you want. We found the toys we wanted, then headed to the beer section to replenish our stock. (No one had completely anticipated Bryan's beer consumption rate, which had increased slightly since the great American smoke out.)
We finally paid out and headed outside to load the patio furniture into the truck. It was humid as hell and I was sweating heavily.
Back at home, we put together the furniture as we continued sipping a few beers.
That evening, we had a cook out at Shannon's uncle's house in a rather nice part of Austin. Most of the wedding party had finally arrived so it was all about the pre-wedding festivities. I did my best to taunt the nervous bride to be into getting hopelessly drunk, but she wisely abstained. The barbecue was superb, everyone had a good time, and like any good party, there was an incident where someone fell into the fountain outside in the garden. Of course, he was 2 years old, but hey, someone has to do it.
The next morning, the day before the wedding, we got up early. I was ready to continue celebrations, but was also feeling the beers from the day before. Shannon and the maid of honor headed to the manicurist, and Tim and I stopped by the bank, before heading to the airport to pick up more folks.
At the airport, I got a much needed coffee, then the flight from Love Field arrived and young Pauly stepped out to greet us. We had another coffee while we waited for Matthew, taking time to chuckle at some of the other travelers, including one unfortunate businessman who had just rushed across the airport to his gate, only to have the attendant wait right up until the guy arrived breathlessly, then simply say, "Sorry, you are too LATE!" and shut the door in his face. It is one of those things that is quite funny to see, but only when it is not happening to you. I have been through similar situations, so enjoyed being the spectator on this particular day.
At 11h30, Matthew's flight from Connecticut arrived, and he was the last guy to depart the aircraft. As usual, he was in rare form, complete in loafers, khakis, winnie the pooh tie and navy blazer. We jumped in the car and headed back to town, stopping by a store to pick up a video camera. It was still way hot and we searched unsuccessfully for a shop that sold bandanas, then finally gave up and headed off to the tuxedo shop for our fitting.
May - known for its flowers, weddings, and Proms....
At 13h, we walked up to the tuxedo shop to find about 15 people standing in line.
"Holy shit," someone said.
Right about this time, the father of the bride came out with his tux, complaining that he had been at the shop for 2 hours.
"Holy shit," someone said again.
We were all hungry, but we needed to get this tuxedo thing taken care of. Tim and I stood in line and sent Matthew and Pablo off for snacks. Sure enough, a few minutes later we were next at the counter, and Tim had to run off to grab the others. In the tuxedo renting process, you have to pay up front, so we settled our bills, then waited for our turn to be called for the fitting.
While we waited, Tim and I had a couple of beers and something from the food court. The mall security kept telling us that we had to stay in the food area with our beers, but we kept saying that we needed to be close to the tux shop so we could hear when our names were called.
Finally, we were called into the fitting rooms. Tim and Matthew had perfect fits. Pablo and I had a few troubles. While he stood in his boxers waiting for his pants to be hemmed, I made a few calls to colleagues about the travel for the upcoming business review the following week. The whole process took a lot longer than we had planned, so we just kept drinking beers. We realized that we were going to be late for the dress rehearsal, but basically said fuck it. It's not as if they could do the rehearsal without the groom, the best man, and the groomsmen.
Tuxedos finally rented, we raced back to Tim's, I got my car, then Pablo and I drove into Austin listening to the Beatles, Supergrass, and Belle and Sebastian. The traffic was horrible, but we had beers, so it was OK.
We arrived to the rehearsal. It was really hot, and tensions were high, due to our tardiness. The final groomsman was already there, so finally we had the complete entourage (of drunk bastards, if you will....though a couple of guys may try and say, "hey, I was not that drunk.")
True, wedding rehearsals are important, but they usually are uneventful. It was hot as crap, but we paid attention and knew what to do. By the end of it, everyone was at least a little more calm, and we all planned to head directly to the rehearsal dinner. I was feeling about as fresh as that woman who sat with the windows rolled up in her car for two days in the movie "Cujo," but did not have time for a shower. I settled for changing t-shirts in the parking lot of the church and thought about the margarita I would be enjoying at the restaurant.
Pablo and I drove through the Austin strip (amazingly enough, our first time to be in Austin at the same time...all other trips were without the pleasure of one another's company. many thanks, Pablo, for honking at EVERY female jogger that we passed) and arrived at the restaurant to find that they only had one waiter to serve our party of 40. This prompted several of our group to have a word with management, and eventually they got a few more servers to help.
As the dinner came to an end, Tim's brother and sister stood up to say a few words and share a few gifts. Then, Shannon's father got up and said a few more words. He got choked up (as any father would when their daughter is about to get married) and the significance of the event hit me (again). A best friend was about to get married.
The large portion of the wedding party departed the restaurant fairly early, allowing for those of us on the groom's side to check in at our hotel. We all noticed that there was some sort of cocktail lounge across the way from our hotel, so after a quick checkin, we grabbed the groom and headed over for a little more festivity. We all found ourselves quickly consuming a couple of "bahamritas" each. These were some sort of fruity drinks with a ridiculous (and unnecessary) amount of alcohol in them. Looking back, it might not have been the best decision, especially after the margaritas we had just consumed a couple of hours before, and who could forget about the beers we had consumed during the course of the day.
However, in fairness, the drinks were in goofy glasses, so we ended up spilling a lot of the contents onto our boots, shoes, and feet (depending on the person). So, we switched back to beer, and tried to behave like guys at a bachelor party. Since all of us came from different parts of the country, this was our first real opportunity to have some semblance of a stag night, however tame. And tame it was.
From our group of 6 guys, I think Tim talked to one attractive girl, while the rest of us stood around sheepishly and shyly, which was pretty much how we went through college together. From there, we went over to a D&Bs to play a few games, then we called it a night. We needed the sleep, and the next day was going to be a BIG day.
Saturday, 6th May. 8am. Tim is already up and ready for the day. (It was his day, so why not?)
I was not feeling particularly hearty, but am trying to rally as quickly as can, trying not to think about the damage I had been doing to my liver over the past couple of days. Tim broke into our hotel room and roused us out of bed. We had a quick breakfast, then headed to his house to do a few last minute things.
The maid of honor had already called me to announce, "The bride is out of the house," which had initially baffled Paul and me. (We found out later that this is tradition.)
Tim and I got to his house, picked up the dog, then stopped by his in-laws house to drop off a Wishing Well, then took the dog to the vets for the weekend. We listened to the Farm during the mornings excursion, and I thought it very fitting that we sang "All Together Now," our anthem from senior year, at the top of our lungs like only we could do.
We then went to another hotel where the bride and groom would be staying that night, checked them in, then we headed off to a place for lunch. Tim had overcome some wedding jitters and had his appetite back, and somehow I had lost mine. Kudos to Pablo for recognizing some local movie star in the restaurant (as well as seeing another celebrity on his trip down the day before). After lunch, we picked up more beer and headed back to our hotel. We experimented with the video camera throughout the day, as Paul was really getting his act together as a production king.
My parents were checking into the hotel when we arrived, so we had a brief chat. My dad showed us his new golf clubs and mom just kept smiling, so proud that one of her "sons" was about to get married. Time was catching up with us, so we headed to our rooms to start getting ready for the wedding. For motivation, we put on a tape of Braveheart.
Tim and I shaved our torsos, and I would like to thank everyone in the group for thinking it would be so fucking funny to bring out the video camera. Why was that door not locked?
By mid afternoon, we were all suited, and feeling really warm. We trooped over to the church, got the video camera out again, and then proceeded to have a quick game of wiffle ball calm our nerves. Loads of fun, but way too hot. After scrambling to get our boutonnieres and handkerchiefs sorted, it was time for the big event.
We did a big group hug, then paraded into the church.
The wedding ceremony itself went off without too many crazy events. Tim's nephews came down the aisle as ring bearers, but immediately had to leave as they were inclined to start chucking those little heart shaped pillows around. I sweat enough to wash a few church pews away, and Tim seemed to be a bit sweaty himself. Shannon, meanwhile, looked great, but she would not look at me, because she knew I would try and make her laugh.
I never locked my knees (thus avoiding a 4th time in my life that I have fainted in a church) and before you knew it, Tim and Shannon were married, and walking up and arm up the aisle.
After the photos, we headed to the reception at the Austin Club, which was a great scene. I started right in on the beers and kept a good clip going. I had a few words with the DJ, as she was exceptionally cute, even if she did not know what SKA music was.
I got razzled when it came time for the groom's toast, which goes to show why I deserve to be safely behind camera with script, or better yet, always with pen and paper. Fortunately, no one held anything against me, and in fact, the bar tender said he thought I had given a decent and funny speech. He was proud to serve me the last of the beer that they had in stock at the bar.
Tim and Shannon danced, as did lots of folks, including myself. I think just about everyone got out and cut a rug or two, except for Pablo, who needed one more notch in the belt to keep the pants secured ("You're all right, kid.") One of Tim's nephews got sideswiped by Shannon's wedding train, which I found particularly entertaining. By that time, I had had so many beers that it happened in slow slow slow motion.
After the toasts, the greetings, and the hugs, the happy couple rode off in a carriage, a very fitting way for them to exit the reception.
I said my goodbyes to the families, then several of us hit 6th Street, most of us still in our tuxes and gowns. We did some bar hopping and socialized with wedding guests, probably a few wedding crashers, and the rest of the people of Austin who were out enjoying the scene on a Saturday night. We had beers on the streets, as well as couple of slices of pizza from a vendor. In the end, like this is some big surprise, I got ripped out of my fucking mind. Matthew left at some point, as he had an early flight back to Hartford the next morning, and another groomsman Derrick left to get a few hours of sleep before starting his shift at the hospital the next morning. I fell asleep at a table on the patio of the Iron Cactus, and finally Pablo drove us back to the hotel. I slept shotgun and don't remember another thing.
Sunday morning 8am. The phone rang. Any other time, this would have been okay, but I was feeling like crap. My liver was not working all that well. The same could have been said about the rest of my body.
It was Tim calling. His keys, wallet, and everything were all in Derrick's truck, and Derrick was already at work at the hospital. My assignment? Find Derrick, get the keys, and get them to Tim.
Well, I got up, went to the bathroom, and threw up. (Sorry, Pauly, that wasn't too pretty). I came out, put on the rest of Braveheart, hoping a graphically violent film about Scotland's history would settle my stomach. Then I fell right back to sleep.
An hour later, Tim called back to ask what I had found. I found that I still felt like hell, and had not been able to get Derrick on the phone.
Meanwhile, Pablo, who felt great, ("Vodka tonics, Bryan, vodka tonics,") was able to rally me and help me get my shit together. Alas, I recalled a vodka shot (vodka shot? who the hell thought that was good idea?) from the previous evening and made another trip to completely puke up the entire lining of my stomach. (Again, Pablo, really sorry about that...that was disgusting.) Finally I made it into the shower.
I got out of the shower still feeling like hell (worst hangover since New Years, when I competed with my brother-in-law to see who felt worse) but made it downstairs for a coffee, where I managed to scare everyone in the lobby, as my eyes were swollen shut and I looked like a baby pig.
I eventually got Derrick on the phone, and Pablo and I checked out of the hotel, then drove to the hospital to get Tim's gear. After a bit of hunting, we finally located Derrick, got the stuff, then drove to Tim and Shannon's hotel, who were not able to check out until they had Tim's things. We said our farewells to the newlyweds, dropped our tuxes off, then called my folks to arrange to meet for brunch.
We elected to eat at Fado's, an Irish pub on 4th Street. Pablo and I parked, picked up real coffees at Starbucks, then walked through a street festival on the way to the pub. It was toasty warm and we were both sweating profusely by the time we got to the pub. My folks were great and we spent the next few hours chatting and catching up on things. I am still pretty amazed that having a full breakfast was a good idea, but I was able to hold it down and actually felt quite a bit better afterwards, despite finding a bug in my coffee.
Eventually, it was time to go. I needed to get Pablo to the airport, then drive myself the 3 hours back to Dallas. After dropping Pablo at the curb, I stopped at a gas station and bought four liters of water, and hit the road. Some sadistic side of me was like, "Bryan, drink a gallon of water and don't stop until you get to Dallas."
This probably would have been fine, until I came upon a traffic jam just outside of Dallas, which brought us to a standstill, and created an additional 45 minute delay. This delay brought me close to tears, as I was overwhelmed with exhaustion, liver failure, and not least of all, a dire need to hit the gents'.
Somehow, I was able to hold on, and made it back to Goliad. I took a much needed pee, picked up a few staples at Whole Foods, then caught up with Chris, Lori, and Bennett for a few minutes. Their party was a true success. The band Speed Trucker played, and were a tremendous hit, and although I was sorry to miss a 15 keg crawfish boil in my backyard, I knew I had just been at a party of a lifetime in Austin.
To Tim and Shannon....thanks for putting up with my antics. Thanks for including me in your celebration. I owe you a white picket fence. I am rather impressed by your love for each other; it kind of puts the whole marriage thing for me in perspective. Sure, there's no fucking way I am about to doing anything like that, but all the same, you know?
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So, as I did most every Monday evening when I lived at Goliad, I returned to the Old Monk the next evening to write up the weekend report.
Back then, I wrote exclusively with pen and notebook. There was always a comfort when the piece was finished. I would put the cap back on my pen, close the notebook, and sit for a moment, just letting it all set in.
Happy Anniversary, Tim and Shannon
see you out there
bryan
