Weekend Wedding Part 2

Although I haven't been to many weddings in my life, James Johnson's wedding was a blast and set the bar pretty high for future events. It was very relaxed atmosphere but with a more formal attire. I welcomed this dress code since I was excited to wear my $4300 suit.

After the ceremony, the entire party proceeded to the open bar and eventually to the dinner tables for the reception. Not surprisingly, my friends and I were relegated to a distant table away from the pomp and camaraderie. The food was excellent--BBQ chicken, ribs, mixed greens, rolls and chocolate cake--and the bartender was on fire the entire night. Since Budweiser is now owned by a Belgian company, and the only reason to drink Bud was to feel patriotic, I felt Coors Original was the smart move the entire night. We were in the Rockies after all.


After tearing up the dance floor (if you count standing around with a bunch of guys dancing), the older folks took a bus back to the hotel while the younger crowd stayed at the mountain side location. Luckily I was able to change into jeans and a sweatshirt since I didn't want any little kids getting their sticky little fingers all over my $6000 suit.


After changing, the remaining guests huddled around a campfire roastin' s'mores, slingin' beers and rippin' heats. The campfire was about 15 feet from the lake with thick reeds and brush separating the wildlife from the nightlife. Since seating was limited, we stood most of the time, and more importantly, the bathroom was at least 1/16th of a mile away so guests had to brave the dense foliage to take care of business. I'm not sure who started it, but when I retired to the men's room (the thick jungle), someone pushed me causing me to barrel roll into the reeds. This juvenile behavior escalated quickly until people were just getting tackled Terry Tate style into the underbrush. Making matters worse, there were a number of tree stumps that would have certainly caused some serious damage if anyone had landed on them. Luckily everything remained in one piece, with the exception of our dignity, and we headed back to the yurt to finally fall asleep.

After making the arduous climb up heartbreak hill, which was no more than a one story climb, my friends and I stumbled upon a box of rubber gloves. We proceeded to mimic the sound of a full body cavity search by repeatedly snapping the rubber glove back on to our hand. What seemed hilarious at the time, probably was quite stupid. Of course, it escalated quickly into the one of the most horrifying/hilarious images I've ever witnessed. One of my friends proceeded to wrap the rubber glove over...er...his entire package. His name rhymes with Smandle Mells and if you see him on the streets, be sure to ask him about it, he would love to show you.

We eventually made it to the yurt which was actually quite nice. It was essentially a cabin with bunk beds and I would compare the setup to a European hostel. All in all, that John Denver was not full of shit. It was a great party, and congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. James Johnson on their marriage.