Thursday, October 21, 2010

NLCS PHI v SF Game 4. A Little Bit Of Perspective

When I was 24 I was invited to my first wedding ceremony. I know, how did I manage to sidestep that bullshit for so long. It was an ex-girlfriend's sister who was to be married and the ceremony was in upstate PA near Delaware Water Gap. The wedding party was all booked into a very fancy-schmancy hotel where the reception was to take place.

The night before the wedding a few of us sat at the hotel bar placing bets on who the asshole was going to be; the one who couldn't handle the open bar and the loose morals of the reception atmosphere. Kind of a foreshadowing conversation over a snifter of expensive scotch. I didn't pay for it.

So the next day the boring wedding went off without a hitch. I had a few drinks before the ceremony so it was mildly bearable. After all the bullshit and exchanges of vows we headed back to the hotel for drinks and the stupid reception. On the way back we passed a hip-flask around the car to get things started. 

By the time we actually sat down for all the corny best-man's speeches and first dance happy horseshit my entire table was tanked. My ex, her sister, her sister's boyfriend, 2 lesbians who looked like dirty dishrags, Casey-boy from the Preston and Steve radio show and his wife. This is what I was surrounded by, a table full of potential enemies.

During one of the embarrassing speeches my ex and I start to bicker over something, probably food, and the table started to notice. That's when Casey-boy chimed in to my ex-broad.

"Hey, J, I haven't seen you in a while"

"Yeah, I think it was at your wedding, Case"

"That's right, you spent the whole entire time making out with Sean Stern"

I remember this wedding. I couldn't attend because I was having my pilonidal cyst operated on for the first time. The ex and I had been together for a good month or so, already exchanged the mushy words and were quite settled in as a couple. 

I turned to her as Casey-boy said this while drunkenly doing the math in my head. I said something like "Wait....we were fucking bitch..."

Casey-boy looked genuinely astounded and sorrowful after he saw my expression. He knew he'd blown my ex's secret. His size 8 was in his mouth and he looked ashamed but still smirked like a cock. I would've, too had it been me who'd done the cover-ripping.

Now for some reason, after I called the ex a bitch for cheating on me, the whole table looked at me like I was the asshole. I flipped. I tossed my plate of shitty wedding asparagus food at one of the horse-faced lesbians and stormed out of the reception hall. The ex followed trying to explain but I was having none of it. I was screaming up a fucking nightmare about what a cheating cunt she was. I am very sensitive about infidelity. It's the one thing in the entire world that truly upsets me. That and when the Phillies lose.

All the wedding idiots were guffawing and gawking at us as I was walking off. I think I looked some bridesmaid in the face and called her a linebacker as I left. 

I made it to my car as the ex followed crying and I was still livid. Booze and the bomb-drop does not lend itself to rational thought. I think I'd called the girl every disparaging name in the book before climbing into my car and kicking the turn signal off the steering column, still enraged. 

I pulled the car out and slammed into the side of some limo. As I was about to drive off I decided that getting out of the car to scream at my girlfriend some more. I left the car where it was and followed her back into the reception. We were screaming at each other and it could not be ignored.

My ex's uncle--who looked like a 70 year old Bill Murray-- tried to intervene by attempting to get me in a head-lock but failed. I threw him into a table which collapsed from his weight.

Finally several men who worked for the hotel grabbed me and, just like a movie, tossed me down the flight of stairs that sat at the entrance of the joint. 

As I laid on the ground I couldn't help but laugh. I was the asshole who couldn't handle the open-bar, hahahaha! I was the dickhead that made a scene. I should never bet against myself.

That was a bad night. This game, last night's fucking 5-6 loss to those bay area nerds, wasn't as bad as this night I speak of. It was close but really not as bad. We'll see what happens tonight.

Fuck new york, fuck the dorks, fuck weddings and GO PHILLIES!


1 comment:

  1. thanks for a good, shameful story. let's be fucking stoked for tonight, no matter what.