Amanda and
Parry’s wedding was the feel good event of the year. It was also the sweatiest. To hear about both, read on…
I couldn’t sleep Friday night; I was too nervous. I stayed up late putting the last few tweaks on my speech, and then I just lay in bed trying to run through the ceremony in my head. I wanted to do a good job directing traffic and making the thing flow smoothly. Despite my apathy towards most of humanity, I would’ve
felt bad if I ruined their wedding.
Earlier in the week, I was feeling kinda sick. Gradually, that worsened into what I thought was strep throat, so I started self-medicating on Thursday. I took antibiotics that were lying around,
Emer’gen-C, Aleve, and some kind of red and green pill that I found. When I woke up early on Saturday, I still felt like shit, so I took all of those meds again. I figured I should probably eat something with that drug cocktail, but I was too keyed up. I chocked down 3
Oreos and hoped that was enough to fuel me until the reception 8 hours later.
After pacing around and reading some sort of
Star Wars novelization, it was time to get ready. I followed Jared’s triple S rule (shower, shit, and shave), and then went about the arduous task of putting on my tux. It was like 90 degrees outside, and the 4 layers of clothing I put on weren’t helping, so I called Julia to complain. Per Mala’s instructions, I grabbed the Xbox and hit the road.
It was a strange drive to Monroeville. I was really worried that I’d get in an accident or hit traffic and be late (even though I left early to get to the church an hour early…if that makes any sense). Thankfully, I got to the
Stone Church with no problems, and Parry showed up likewise. Well, he didn’t have much of a voice (he was sick too), but he was there, and that’s the important part. We heard the ladies arrive not much later, and go time approached.
This is the point that Karen came running over and said that Amanda needed to see me. Visions of Armageddon danced through my head. When I saw her, she looked beautiful, concerned, and
ready to snap. See, she and Parry had written their own vows, but they forgot to write an “I do” part. It turns out that’s kind of important, so we came up with a way around it, and I went out to ush.
Wearing a black tuxedo in the blazing heat of July while ushering people to their seats is not a task I’d like to repeat any time soon.
I had the germit almost instantly. The grivit wasn’t far behind. By the time the sweat started to trickle down my back, I knew Uncle Russell was in town. Good, good for me. It actually put me in a fairly silly mood. I went to glad-hand the cop directing traffic and arrange for the like when the ceremony was going to be over. He asked me if I was the groom, and I just laughed.
After my fellow
ushers Ross, Joe, Alex, and I had finished packing the church full of Parrys, Lovelys, Plummites, and other assorted characters, the show was about to begin. Joe and Alex each walked a grandmother down the aisle, Ross took Mrs. Parry, and I had the pleasure of escorting Mrs. Lovely. The ring bearer, who I want to call Frodo but who was actually my little buddy Timmy (I realized for the first time that he’s got the same name as my uncle Timothy McClain), handed me the ring box, and I took my position at the pulpit I guess you could call it.
For a second, just imagine this. Matt Bochman. Standing in front of a giant cross. At the head of a church. Yeah, I was
waiting for the lightning too.
The bridesmaids came down the aisle one by one, and their eyes were already brimming with tears. This wasn’t a good sigh as I was trying not to cry myself, but oh well (It turns out I never did cry. I’m just too manly I guess). Amanda and Mr. Lovely made their way down the aisle, and surprisingly, my
heart didn’t explode in my chest from nervousness like I thought it might. I can’t really remember, but I think I dropped Amanda a wink, the music stopped, and I got started.
When I talk in front of a crowd, I’m largely on autopilot. I sometimes have things prepared to say, and this time, I even wrote them down, but you can never quite tell what’s going to happen. For instance, I called Parry “Parry” instead of Frank at least once. I’ve probably only called him Frank two dozen times since I’ve known him, with the bulk of those in the last two weeks, but I was still trying hard not to offend his family. Anyway, rolling right along, I warned people that it was going to be an “
unorthodox” ceremony, and then I said a few words about the bride and groom. I had everything I wanted to say scripted out in front of me, I even looked down at the paper, but my eyes didn’t work so I just babbled some nonsense and started introducing the other speakers.
Jamie Lovely read a poem but started crying and never finished. Karen Clawson also read a poem and did a good job of projecting her voice which was a concern for everyone. Angela Lovely read a poem that either she or Amanda had written (I’m not quite sure). Either way, it was funny and touching. Joe
Saxman gave a speech that he’d written, and Mindy Santarcangelo followed this up with an Apache blessing.
With the potential for disaster high (me dropping things, me falling, me stepping on Amanda’s dress, etc), I made my way down between the couple and gave them letters that they’d written to one another. Amanda read hers first; it was about learning about
true love. Parry followed, reading a letter written as if it was their 25th wedding anniversary, and his voice magically came back to him for the whole thing. I read the vows and had them repeat after me, and then I said, “By the power vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania…and the internet…I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
I’m such an ass.
The usual followed: kiss, walk down the aisle, bridal party leaves, people meet outside, etc. The only problem here was that the photographer never showed up. Parry’s aunt (I think), was a champ and had taken over the duties without anyone really knowing, so it was all good. One billion pictures later, I wallowed in the air conditioning of my car like
Stain at a free porn giveaway.
I drove Mala and Karen to the hotel to check in before the reception, and Mr. Lovely caught us in the lobby to tell us to head to his room. The man is a
genius - he had beer on ice waiting. Unfortunately, while we were boozing, everyone else was waiting at the restaurant. We got there with 20 seconds to spare though, were introduced, listened to Mala and Scott Parry’s toasts, and then dove into the drinks and buffet. After my bridal party dance and a Chicken Dance I was somehow guilted into, I began to drink with terrible vengeance and furious anger.
No alcohol was safe. I had both kinds of beer, whiskey and coke, gin and tonic, whiskey and water, vodka and cranberry, white wine, and shots. At very few points did I have less than two drinks on me. As you can imagine, I was retarded. I schmoozed, I got to know
Aquaman, I threatened to head butt
Christy Reedy while talking to Julia, I danced with Parry, and I generally had a good time.
At some indistinct point in my memory, the reception ended, and I carried two vases full of flowers back to the hotel. I also ended up back in Mr. Lovely’s room drinking
beer. 26 other people ended up in the same place, some of which were playing Karaoke Revolution on Mala’s Xbox. Mr. Lovely walked into the room, endured the revolution for as long as possible, and then made an announcement, “Get the hell out of here.”
Well kids, that wasn’t the end of the evening, but I don’t really feel that I’m doing this event justice with such a shitty post. Maybe I’ll take some time and write something good one of these days. Until then, this is it.
It’s called the BK Quad Stacker.
Posts
