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Worst trip to date...
Sep. 12th, 2012 11:16 pmThis past weekend I drove up to Washington, D.C. to attend an old friend's wedding.
I arrived Friday afternoon and discovered that the locale of the wedding had shifted. It was not being held in Virginia as I had been told but had moved to a swank hotel in the District.
Oh joy.
There was a boy's night out that Friday which pretty much amounted to a bunch of guys watching movies, drinking beers and giving the Groom the benefit of their wedded experience. Some of it was tongue in cheek, some of it was outright lies and some of it was honest truth. I still have no idea which is which, but then, marriage to me, is sort of like the idea of fucking a porcupine: generally unappealing and something that other people do.
Anyway, after the boy's night in, I wasn't holding out much hope for the wedding reception. The wedding itself? Eh. It was nice, but very few weddings are good or bad. They just sort of are.
No, it's the reception that I look forward to. The music, the dancing, the bar, the chance to have it off with attractive groomsmen or lovely bridesmaids.
Yeah, that didn't happen this time.
The wedding reception was fucking boring. Dullsville. Dead City. Part of it was because I was being 'good' which meant no booze and only a glass or two of wine. There was a dinner, which was tasty, and then tables were pushed back a bit to make a dance floor. But the DJ, some relative of the bride's, played nothing but Ann Murry-Snowbird-1970s easy listening shit that you couldn't dance to if you were blitzed out of your fucking minds. The family's didn't mix. I propped up the bar most of the evening with some friends, but as soon as the happy couple left the room, we were out of there. So was everybody else.
We retired to a suit upstairs, after snagging three really good bottles of booze from the bar, and had our own party. It was fairly low key. At that point, I didn't feel like partying, so even though I had some lovely Glenfiddich I remember the night very clearly. At no time was there singing in French, public nudity or police involvement. It was mostly the lot of us sitting around, reminiscing about our younger days and placing wagers on how long the groom will remain faithful to the bride.
Yeah, I know. We were sort of dicks, but no one thinks the groom can remain faithful longer than 8 months. Tops.
Sunday, I visited the family I stayed with in DC ages ago, when I was a callow youth. I spent 5 hours sitting around with them, chatting and generally having a much better time than I had at that abyssmal wedding reception.
Then, Monday, it was back home. Around 4 that afternoon I had to stop, though, because my eyes were getting heavy. Better safe than sorry, I stopped at a hotel in Salisbury, NC. I went to bed alone that evening and woke up the next morning with surprise bedmates: a trio of ticks. Two on my legs, one on my thigh. When I told the desk clerk about it when I was leaving, she was utterly blase about it. She wasn't disgusted or outraged or shocked. It was like, "Oh. Really? Have a nice day."
I hope you're having a nice day since I filed a complaint with the Rowan County Health Department.
Yeah, this wasn't one of my better trips.
:/
I arrived Friday afternoon and discovered that the locale of the wedding had shifted. It was not being held in Virginia as I had been told but had moved to a swank hotel in the District.
Oh joy.
There was a boy's night out that Friday which pretty much amounted to a bunch of guys watching movies, drinking beers and giving the Groom the benefit of their wedded experience. Some of it was tongue in cheek, some of it was outright lies and some of it was honest truth. I still have no idea which is which, but then, marriage to me, is sort of like the idea of fucking a porcupine: generally unappealing and something that other people do.
Anyway, after the boy's night in, I wasn't holding out much hope for the wedding reception. The wedding itself? Eh. It was nice, but very few weddings are good or bad. They just sort of are.
No, it's the reception that I look forward to. The music, the dancing, the bar, the chance to have it off with attractive groomsmen or lovely bridesmaids.
Yeah, that didn't happen this time.
The wedding reception was fucking boring. Dullsville. Dead City. Part of it was because I was being 'good' which meant no booze and only a glass or two of wine. There was a dinner, which was tasty, and then tables were pushed back a bit to make a dance floor. But the DJ, some relative of the bride's, played nothing but Ann Murry-Snowbird-1970s easy listening shit that you couldn't dance to if you were blitzed out of your fucking minds. The family's didn't mix. I propped up the bar most of the evening with some friends, but as soon as the happy couple left the room, we were out of there. So was everybody else.
We retired to a suit upstairs, after snagging three really good bottles of booze from the bar, and had our own party. It was fairly low key. At that point, I didn't feel like partying, so even though I had some lovely Glenfiddich I remember the night very clearly. At no time was there singing in French, public nudity or police involvement. It was mostly the lot of us sitting around, reminiscing about our younger days and placing wagers on how long the groom will remain faithful to the bride.
Yeah, I know. We were sort of dicks, but no one thinks the groom can remain faithful longer than 8 months. Tops.
Sunday, I visited the family I stayed with in DC ages ago, when I was a callow youth. I spent 5 hours sitting around with them, chatting and generally having a much better time than I had at that abyssmal wedding reception.
Then, Monday, it was back home. Around 4 that afternoon I had to stop, though, because my eyes were getting heavy. Better safe than sorry, I stopped at a hotel in Salisbury, NC. I went to bed alone that evening and woke up the next morning with surprise bedmates: a trio of ticks. Two on my legs, one on my thigh. When I told the desk clerk about it when I was leaving, she was utterly blase about it. She wasn't disgusted or outraged or shocked. It was like, "Oh. Really? Have a nice day."
I hope you're having a nice day since I filed a complaint with the Rowan County Health Department.
Yeah, this wasn't one of my better trips.
:/
