So, Happy New Year, everybody. I hope you all had an exciting evening of drunken debauchery. (I know some of you had a little more drunken debauchery than others. Hah? Hah? Am I right? Am I right? Hah?)
I debauched nothing, and I was only a little drunk. I was too busy being puffed up by my own self-importance whilst officiating my friends Dan and Vicky’s wedding. It went off without a hitch. Or rather, one hitch, that being Dan and Vicky. Getting hitched. Get it? Oh, never mind.
Really, though, the ceremony was awesome, an only partly because I rule. It took place at Live Bait Theatre, which is a small, intimate theater space. The bride and groom had three attendants each, and all six of them gave small readings that they each wrote themselves. There was an equal amount of laughing and crying. The best man, Dan’s brother Robb, brought the house down with a poem about Legos. You had to be there. I was proud of my own work — I managed to work in references to seventh-century Druidic pagans, Shakespeare, and Vanilla Ice. Again, you had to be there, or at least know Dan and Vicky to understand how appropriate this was.
The reception was a good time, also. The happy couple picked every song that was played, so we were not forced to suffer through the Macarena, or anything that might be defined as “Country Western,” or “Adult Contemporary.” The food was awesome, and yet was perhaps my only complaint as well, because it took an immense amount of willpower to get off my fat ass and dance after eating. I really felt like I should just unbutton my pants and find a couch and a TV with a football game on it.
But dance I did. Mandy and I cut a rug like nobody’s business. I was quite thoroughly sweaty and disgusting by the time the party ended. We had a lovely champagne toast at midnight, which was immediately followed by Me First & the Gimme Gimmes’ rendition of “Auld Lang Syne,” which, if you are at all familiar with that band, pretty much sums up the night.
The trek home was something of an adventure. The reception took place way the hell out by Midway Airport, which is basically the opposite end of the city from where Mandy and I live. We’d asked the staff at the reception hall to call a cab for us, but being New Year’s Eve, available cabs were thin on the ground. In the end, one of the staff ended up driving Mandy and myself, along with another couple, over to Midway, where we snagged a cab out of the arrivals line. We spent the ride back discussing the Bears’ playoff prospects, which means that a good time was had by all.