Thursday after class

Originally posted on my "Story Writing" class' discussion/message board. So it's really written with them as the intended audience.

Class was running late. I knew I was going to miss my train home, there wasn't much I could do about it. I couldn't just get up and leave midway through the story. That's rude as hell and moreso, the story was interesting. It wrapped up and we through out comments, by that time it was too late. I resigned myself to my fate. We packed up as a group and took the elevator back down to the lobby. From there the class dispersed. Some heading north, some to the BART station and the rest to parts unknown.

I was on my own as I walked down Market St. I had my iPod with me, which has become a good friend during these long and daily commutes of solitude. Sometimes it knows me so well and plays just the right song. This wasn't really one of those times. Then again there weren't many songs that would have cheered me up.

Missing the 10:40 Caltrain means that I'm stuck waiting until the next one, the last one at 12:01am. That's a long as wait when you consider that the station isn't a station at all, it's just a glass wall with a roof and two partial walls which are opened most of the time. The back is open, a mall style roll down gate fakes as a back wall. For a native New York this is drives me fucking insane. There's no possible way to compare it to Grand Central. I knew I was in for a miserable night. To top it all off, I'll get back to Sunnyvale around 1:30 in the morning and then get the joy of walking a mile back to my apartment.

I'm walking down Market St. and need a better thought. I start thinking about a schoolmate, someone I don't know who had been mugged earlier in the day. I overheard him retelling the story to some of his peers. Two men hit him from behind and knocked him down. While down they snatched his iPhone. I felt bad being an uninvited listener to his story. His classmates expressed all the right sincerity. The first question everyone asked was about his laptop - even as a 1st quarter student I know that your laptop is your whole life. If you lose it you're pretty much fucked. Fortunately the muggers were amateurs in a hurry, a hit and run job and just made off with the iPhone.

My thoughts turned into the twisted alley way they usually go to when I'm alone. How I would, or would like to react in that situation. I thought of someone running up from behind me, grabbing at my bag strapping and pulling it with them as they ran past. I pictured myself gripping hard and pulling back on it. I'm not a big guy by any stretch of the imagination, not even for a midget. I realized I'd be pulled a few steps forward in the perps direction. I thought of pulling my weight back, since I'd have the advantage of the bag wrapped around my opposite shoulder. He'd be pulled towards me. I imagined at this point adrenaline mixed with Mountain Dew, some deep rooted psychological issues and too many action movies would take over.

He'd stumble a few steps in my direction, caught off balance. Kick to the stomach. He lets go of the bag and bends over. Right cross to the face hopefully sending him to the ground. If not I've got a left already queued up. Small or not that should take him down. The anger of being a victim again sets in. The thoughts of the student who was mugged, my friend whose home was burglarized in Los Altos - drop down and punch him to the back of the head sending it into the unforgiving pavement. Nose is at least broken at this point, maybe some teeth are gone. Who knows if his tongue is still in tack? I'm yelling for people to call 911 as I place my knee into his spine and press down. If he flails or tries to get up it won't end pretty. At this point I'm keeping myself in control. The daydream/fantasy ends with the cops arriving.

I make it to the bus stop and prepare myself for a wait of indefinite length. Fortunately about a song and a half in I spot the bus coming around the corner. I get on and take a seat. I'm too tired to stand. A few stops down the line the bus stops, people get on and people get off. Two people are waiting approximately 20 meters away (according to an unreliable witness/participant) under the plastic booth. The bus pulls away and I notice the two with confused and irritated looks on their face. A stop or so later the two get on the bus. The guy immediately questions why the driver didn't stop. The driver contends that he did stop. The guy argues that it was 20 meters in front of where he was standing.

I hate that. Self important bastards who think won't compromise. The bus driver points out that people got on and off the bus. The man restates his ridiculous position. I decide to stay quiet. I'm not going to fight over something like this and I'm confident that there will be no negative repercussions for the bus driver.

I get to the Caltrain station at 10:45. I know I have a long wait ahead of me and make a line for the restroom. It's closed, for cleaning. There's one public bathroom in the whole fucking place and it's being cleaned when the rest of the city is closed. Great. I walk outside to the familiar circle of park benches hoping they will hurry up and clean it. I think about writing in my blog an open letter to the mayor with all of my Caltrain grievances. I realize it's of little use, Caltrain is bigger than San Francisco - the governor will need to be the recipient.

I've spent a decent amount of time in this little circle. I even had an idea one Thursday night after class to stage a flash mom-esque choreographed dance sequence. Participating in a spontaneous well choreographed public dance sequence is one of my goals in life and I'm feeling more and more confident it will happen. I had some rough ideas and emailed them late one night to a classmate.

I look over to the glass housing the little waiting room with the restrooms attached to it. Paco is still cleaning. I'm mentally egging him on. I think about kicking in the window just so I can be, but I'm not going to jail over this. Plus there are sheriffs outside by the trains. One of them may shoot me dead.

What a story that would be. White, middle class student, shot dead in the Caltrain station, apparently on his way to the restroom. How do you know he was headed towards the restroom the press would ask. "He was found with his zipper down and his dick in his hand. Also trace amounts of urine were found near the body." What an embarrassment it'd be for the city. I thought about the guy who shot me getting it from the rest of the guys on the force.

"What happened O'Grady? Saw it was bigger than yours so you shot the kid?" Then I realized O'Grady would be a stereotypical name for a cop in Boston, maybe New York. I don't think there's a large Irish population in San Francisco. If there is, they're relatively well hidden. Then I pondered what would be a stereotypical San Francisco ethnicity that people would immediately get as a racial humor. All I could think of was gays, and that changes the reason for him shooting me altogether. This story is starting to fall apart.

I finally get access to the restroom and relieve myself. I walk out and search for a bench to sit on, it's still going to be a long as wait. I find an empty spot across from 2 ticket machines. I start listening to my iPod because I have nothing else to do.

I see a girl, maybe 100 feet or so in front of me. I had seen her earlier when I was outside by the circle of benches. She's an Oakland A's fan. Jacket, bag and even her shoes are green and white. I'm not an A's fan but a girl with sports loyalty - as long as it's not Duke, the Dallas Cowboys or the Philidelphia Philies or Atlanta Braves in baseball and she's instantly attractive. She's walking towards me and I'm starting to think that she may take the empty spot besides me.

She does and I'm overcome with realizing how awkward I am. It may be nice to initiate conversation, but I'm hoping she'll make an innocuous comment about the shitty public transportation or something else in my wheel house. She doesn't and sits there board. I realize that I've been telling stories to myself all night, up to and including the current situation I was in.

I put down my bag and reach into it. I pull out my laptop deciding that I should start writing this down. Plus it's shiny, and big (my laptop) and I maybe she'll react. Nothing.

I figure I won't get an internet connection so I plan to work in Textedit. When I awake my computer from sleep I notice a free wireless network and connect with the quickness, hoping she'll be intrigued and say something. She's didn't.

My new plan, start writing the story, turn to her and ask if she wants to borrow my iPod because she looks bored. Not only is it a pretty good idea, but then I'd have more to write in my story.

Unfortunately when I started writing I looked over and she had contorted her body so that she could lie down. That awkward position where your feet are still flat on the ground but your bent over at your obliques. Her butt is pointed in my direction. White shorts. I suppose that if I was her it's less weird than having your head near some guy you've never met lying on a bench at the Caltrain station at a quarter after 11 on a Thursday night. She probably took one look at me and realized I was safe. That guy. Some friends of mine in the South Bay had a good acronym for it. It escapes me right now, but it was something like stuck in the friend zone, stuck as friend or what not.

It's sort of funny now as new people enter the station. Here I am typing and this girl is passed out near me. Most of them probably think we're together or at least know each other. It's fun to scan the looks on people's faces, especially the guys. Some wonder if I'm taking care of her, a few noticeably think she's too good for me (or vice versa but I have self esteem issues) and one guy in a cordory blazer, skinny jeans and dress shoes is lurking. I guess I've just become this girl's protector.

I'm worried about what happens when we are finally allowed on the train. She may not wake on her own naturally and then it's probably up to me to make sure she doesn't miss the last train. Like I said, her butt is the closest thing to me but that'll get me in jail for the night. I briefly considered the idea of getting up and walking to where her head was, crouching down and telling her to wake up. Then I realized that waking up on a bench with some guy you have never met before in your face, literally, may be a bit jarring for the girl. Tap her shoulder? It's probably the best approach.

Life is funny. I was finishing that sentence and a guy came over and asked if he could sit in the vacant spot between us. I agreed and shortly after he plopped down she awoke. Now he's talking to her, making small talk about her being an A's fan. I have my iPod on but can hear him slurring his words. There's a bit of a sense of danger that he's looking over my shoulder and watching me type this but eh, everyone suffers for their art. Just not in the face. Who am I kidding, it's not like it's that pretty to begin with.

Random thought, Darius commented on Jason's hair in class tonight. I bit my lip rather than blurting out that he's well aware that he has the Uncle Jesse (from Full House) look down pat. I'm still working on that internal filter.

Just checked the clock, 20 to 12. Running low on source material. I could go back to ranting about the Caltrain but feel like that's an issue that needs it's own, self contained rant. To include it in another thought would be to water it down to the point that the Governor of California, the Honorable Term-I-Nator, would not take it seriously. Well, probably more seriously then "Collateral Damage".

There's no save button here. Sort of a problem, I feel like taking a break. It's been a good 55 minutes or so of stream of conscious writing, catching up on previous events and being hyper observant while doing so. It tires you out, even if you have had 2 Mountain Dew Big Gulps over the course of the day.

Yeah sorry for that, not a random thought - dude was definitely reading over my shoulder as I wrote about him reading over my shoulder. He just got up because they are letting people on the train. He had tried talking to the girl again, but I couldn't document it since he was aware I was chronicling him. She just ignored him. She's gone now too. Guess I should get on the train. Need to find a seat with an AC adapter. I'm thinking about trying to sit near her, but since we never spoke, have no connection, and awoke to see I allowed a creepy dude to sit next to her ass while she was sleeping - eh, it's possible she doesn't want anything to do with me. She'll probably sleep anyway.

Chances are the train won't be interesting, it never is this late. I may set my alarm on my phone and catch some Zs or play video games. Who knows.

Walked to the last car/first car (closest to the south bay) of the train, looking all the lower windows to see if I saw her. Didn't. It's one of the newer trains though so there are really three different eye levels. Could only see one. Once I got on I decided to kill time by walking through the train to see if I saw her. After 2 cars I was going to give up and look for a power outlet so I could play video games. Thought I found one but realize it was for industrial plugs when I attempted to plug my charger in. Walked one my car back towards SF and noticed a regular outlet under a table in a car more crowded that I would have liked. No girl. Plugged in and awoke the computer again. Saw I still had an internet connection and added this little addendum. I'll lose the internet connection about as soon as we pull away from the "station". That's scheduled to happen in two minutes. Time to take one last look around using the reflections in the glass. Two guys are talking, everyone else is stretched out or sleeping. Don't anticipate much. If anything happens I could always write about it when I get back to the apartment, or in TextEdit.

One minute to go. I think I'm going to play the Legend of Zelda. Peace out.

See you all next week.

Dance the Night Away

Somewhere in the middle of Scott and Kristen's wedding I realized that despite being really pale, and thereby being born rhythmically challenged, I really enjoy dancing. As I may have mentioned during that wedding I couldn't resist the beat when they started playing Earth, Wind and Fire's "September". A little later in the night I found myself on the floor again with many people circled around me as I busted out some MJ tribute moves to Billie Jean. I was even able to pull off a 78% moonwalk, however, it wasn't caught on tape.

With all of that in the back of my mind I prepared for Mike and Kelly's wedding a few weeks later. Due to the added ethnic component of this wedding (in case you couldn't tell from the pictures Scott and Kristen are almost as white as me) I knew I had to up my game. Thanks to a handy instructional salsa video on YouTube (which I passed around to the rest of the gringos who would be attending) I was prepared - but I'll do a full recap the wedding in a later post. This is more of a teaser.

Since it was Mike's wedding, Scott was freed up to whip out his camera and capture some great action. So without further ado, a hilarious video of me (please note I had been drinking and was a born a Leo, meaning I naturally crave the spotlight).

http://video.ak.facebook.com/video-ak-sf2p/v6808/247/115/554045421589_23047.mp4

Mike's Bachelor Party or One Hell of a Long Day

I mentioned in an earlier post that Thursdays are really long and painful days for me - getting home around 12:30 - 1am in the morning and then quickly turning around at 7am to make it for my 10am class. A few weeks ago I took Thursday to the extreme.

Not only did I run through my usual routine, but after my 7 - 10pm Storywriting class ended I jumped on the BART (SF's miserable excuse for a subway system) and headed to San Francisco International Airport. By the way, a one way ticket cost $8.10, which is absolutely ridiculous, and the machines don't take credit cards because the whole state is so poor that they can't afford the credit card surcharge. Anyway, I boarded a Virgin America (to be the subject of another post) red-eye to New York.

Fortunately, I was flying with mostly experienced travelers who abided by the rules of the red-eye (namely, shut up and sleep), so I was able to squeeze in a few hours of sleep. I landed at JFK at 7:30am NY time (4:30 Cali time) August 7th. I grabbed breakfast and took my familiar bus ride to Grand Central. I stopped by Zarro's Bakery to pick up a raisin challah loaf for the groom-to-be and one of their famous black and white cookies for my sister's birthday. I took the train to Peekskill where my mom picked me up. Once at home I did some light unpacking and then cranked up the AC and proceeded to crash in my bed for a few hours.

I woke up, showered and headed to the mall to pick up my tux for the wedding on Sunday. On my way home I grabbed a slice of pizza, my usual pre-drinking night meal, however my stomach which had been bothering me most of the week didn't cooperate so I ended up boarding the party bus with little more than some crackers and a bottle of Vitamin Water Revive in my stomach.

On the way down I passed up pre-gaming with the rest of the guys, hoping that the stay of execution would get my stomach back to normal. We talked, failed to figure out how to get the bus pumping with party tunes and had the Yankee pre-game as our background noise. It was a rather appropriate way to start out Mike's bachelor party.

We made good time getting down to the city but ran into traffic as we tried to cut across 33rd street. We jumped out of the bus around 8th avenue and walked to the bar, which was between 5th and 6th. It'd probably be really helpful to give the name, but I can't remember it at this point. Anyway, we had a private room rented out, that's about all we knew. When we got there Mike's dad, uncle's, cousin's husband Kevin (who set us up with this place) and Brandon where there. Our group slowly increased and they showed us to our space.

Down the stairs and a few turns later we were in, one of those places you'd see in a Kettle One commercial. Flat screen TVs on the wall, 2 pool tables with custom red felt, leather couches and plenty of space. The manager introduced us to our waitress, who would be bringing us our drinks before taking our first round orders. Myself and a few others opted for some beers (they had a great selection) and were amazed when the manager and waitress arrived with buckets, ice and a few 6 and 12 packs of our selections. 4 minutes into the party we knew this was going to be a pretty good night.

I popped the top on my first Newcastle and slowly started sipping it, worried about how my stomach would react. I figured if things started going south I could make it through the night nursing 3 or 4. Then the food came out. Our first set - a platter of pigs in the blanket and a platter of buffalo wings. Resisting would be torture, and I don't do torture. I picked myself up a pig in the blanket and popped it in my mouth hoping for the best. It was good. I walked around and gave it a few minutes to test out my stomach. It seemed like it was all clear so I went back and took a serving - around 3 and just to really test myself, a handful of chicken wings. Pigs, wings and beer in hand I grabbed a pool cue and got my game on. I'm not a great, or even good pool player at this point. I'd like to be and plan to learn how to actually be good at some point in my life. At least for now though, I look good doing it. In between shots I managed to polish off my hors d'oeuvres and my drink. Everything seemed good and so I declared myself back at 100%. In addition to the amazing food which kept coming - sliders, potato skins, chicken fingers, our stockpile of drinks, and the TVs (showing the Yankee game) we had music provided by Richie's iPod. Turned out to be one of the best parts of the night. Richie and I have very similar musical tastes. In addition to his man love for Tom Petty, we were treated to some Journey (Mike's favorite), Asia's "Heat of the Moment" and out of nowhere - the entrance music of one "The Heartbreak Kid", Shawn Michaels. Under appreciated by most people at the party, Richie, his cousins Matt and Jay, myself and uncle Sheldon were loving it to no end. We kept eating and drinking, shooting pool, catching up, meeting new people and all the things you'd expect from 20+ guys with their own separate all you can drink bar. It was great.

Once our exclusive rights to the room ended we poured out and began our walk down 33rd to Rick's Caberet. On the way we past the shining beacon of all things New York, the blue and yellow umbrella of a street vendor. I quickly ordered my first pretzel and continued walking. Outside of Rick's I struck up a conversation with the bouncer while I finished my pretzel. We discussed the phony looking-ness of the California driver's license and how you'd expect more from that state. For those of you who are native Californians, do a google image search for the New York driver's license - it's got anti-fraud measure up the arse. Anyway, according to the bouncer apparently Texas now has the fakest looking I.D.s. He said that each letter is actually a different color. I asked if it was designed by a high school girl and he laughed. I finished my pretzel and went inside. (Obviously there will be no pictures from this portion of the night).

As you know, there is a sanctity to the bachelor party, and I'm not going to violate that. All I will say is that Rick's Caberet is by far the nicest of all the strip clubs I've ever stepped foot in. I still don't like strip clubs or strippers but this place made you feel less dirty. Plus, the girls were really professional - no just jumping on you as soon as you walked in. You had to make eye contact or show some sort of interest. Which was great because it meant that I didn't have to pretend (emphasis on pretend) that I'm gay.

The party started emptying out around 2am and as we headed back towards the bus I stopped at another cart. Got myself a 2am dirty water dog and another pretzel. Now this guy, he knew his shit. He was also a purveyor of ke-bobs so he had a small open flame. After coating my pretzel in salt, he placed it over the flame which has the effect of letting the salt soak in as well as making the pretzel firm so that it crunches when you bite into it. Unfortunately I didn't take my first bite until I was on the bus or I would have gladly spent $10 on pretzels.

The ride back was fairly tame, just about everyone other than myself passed out. All in all, a great night. Good friends, good food, good drinking and great tunes. Plus, I knew I could finally sleep in the next day.

Batman: Arkham Asylum - Preview

I've been excited about Batman: Arkham Asylum since I first saw screenshots on Gamespot. That was maybe a year ago. The treatment of the characters and the environment looked awesome. A few days ago I got my usual fairly spammy email from Playstation telling me about the new things at the Playstation Store. When I saw a playable demo for B:AA I got excited. Unfortunately, no matter how excited I am about a new game I still have to go to class and this week has been brutal.

Anyway, tonight I finally got a chance to download it and check it out. Uhm, wow. This may be the first PS3 game I buy new - it's that good. I'm anticipating at least an 8.6 rating from Gamespot and probably something in the 8.8 from IGN. Wait that looks backwards, IGN's numbers are usually lower. Whatever, I'm not going back to erase the sentence. Onward with my review.

The combat system looks beautiful - the moves that Batman pulls off are insane - and is incredibly user friendly - point the Bat in the direction of the guy you want to kick the shit out of and hit square. Someone coming up behind you? Back and square. Guy to the right? Right and square. And if some poor bastard tries to sneak up behind you while you're beating one of his friends - hit triangle to unleash a counter attack. Occasionally the camera will zoom in to give you movie quality close up of Batman being more badass than Val Kilmer was (George Clooney was too easy).

Not only is the combat fun but there's a not too forced (at least in the demo) stealth mechanism. It mostly relies on grappling around from parts of the ceiling and using "Detective Mode" to see infrared images of bad guys, wait for them to separate from each other and then take them out one by one. I died a few times during the demo for the same reasons I failed a bunch of times in Metal Gear Solid4, because there are so many options you want to experiment and push your luck. It was fun.

Other things in the demo. Apparently there are "Riddler Trophies" hidden through Arkham. I found 2 in the demo but wasn't enlightened as to what they do. In addition to those trophies you can unlock profiles of all the characters. They're pretty cool and some of the inmates have audio tracks of them being interviewed by the asylum's shrink. I suppose at this point I should mention that the voices are done by the cast of Batman the Animated Series, score!

My only complaint about the demo is that it ends just before the first boss fight. I'm curious to see how boss fights are handled. I'm thinking it may be a bit like how God of War does them, which would be awesome. But that's possibly a bit nit picky.

Batman: Arkham Asylum comes out on August 25th, so a little less than 2 weeks from now. If you've got the disposable income I would pick it up. I don't, and I still might. Marathon game session a few days to beat it and then turn it in. Although I'm sure unlocking all of the character profiles, interviews and extras will take some effort (which I won't initially put into the game) and cause me to hold on to it long past the time when it has any trade-in value. Maybe I can use some birthday money to invest in it. I haven't treated myself to a new game in a while.

Maybe I'm not so okay with this

Yesterday I called Mike to remind him that he's getting married in exactly a week. It wasn't really a congratulations call, just a reminder really.

Since then I've been dealing with something I can only make up a fake psychological name for, known as "Sidekick Syndrome". For all of our years together I've always sort of thought of myself as being just a smidge ahead, being the leader. Not that it really mattered but that's how I viewed it. Now I'm overcome realizing that I'm the Randall to Mike's Dante. I went back and watched Randall's speech to Dante while they are in jail at the end of Clerks II and I realized I feel a bit of the same way. I know that him getting married doesn't mean that we won't be friends anymore, but I'm smart enough to realize that it's going to change things... and I don't want that to happen.

It's been 20 years of me and Mike. Trying to list all of the shit that we've gone through together would be easier if St. Peter came down with the file of my life and we just pulled out the few pages that didn't involve Mike. Now things are on the verge of a monumental change. Even after I moved to California things didn't change that much. We saw each other less, but our number of pointless text messages probably skyrocketed. Whenever I came home for a visit he was still just five houses away. Now he's moving to Albany so when I'm home, he won't be, for the first time.

I'm slowly realizing that the friend I've pretty much been able to take for granted, won't be around like he used to be. I know it's selfish, but I'm a bit confused about how life is going to go when it's not me and Mike anymore.

The first time I watched Clerks II was the first time I thought of this song symbolizing me and Mike. I won't even bother trying to explain it because I'm fairly certain that I can't. I just remember watching the ending of the movie and thinking what Randall said was right. Anything and everything is better when you're with your best friend.

Shout-Out to the Newlyweds

Last week I flew back to New York to attend the wedding of my friend's Scott and Kristen. First off, let me just say that "friends" is misleading - I love those guys and couldn't be happier for them. Alright, enough sentimental stuff for now, let's recap the event (or at least the important parts from my perspective).

After some c0-mingling with friends we were shown into the rainforest room where the ceremony was to take place. Took our seats and away we go. I served as official personal photographer to my friend Lauren, a bridesmaid who wanted new facebook profile pictures. After a few minutes the families started entering, and away we go. I did my best to get pictures of the bridesmaids as they entered but had made an early error by sitting stage left (the side the groomsmen would be on as they escorted the lovely ladies down the aisle), so they weren't my best work. Bride meet
groom, this nice gentleman here will be marrying you, now each of you repeat what he says, whe he looks at you like you're supposed to say something, say "I do" and we're done. No nonsense ceremony, very nice, not dragging and nothing to complain about.

Cocktail hour is on and let's find the bar. Ask the bartender the most important question - "Do you have Mountain Dew on the gun?". They didn't, so it was going to be a Sprite night. First drink was well vodka and spirte, or as it should be called, a mistake. Fortunately it was learned afterwards that had we just asked Steve (I learn bartender's names very early) he would give us Kettle One. That was put to good use the rest of the night. More mingling and talking, congratulating the families and we're starting to get into the party mood.

Shuffling us off to the main hall now to take our seats and time for me to speed this up and hit the highlights. Take seats, order dinner, await wedding party's entrance. My friend Jason tries to convince one of the bridesmaids (perhaps the whitest of them all) to do the soulja boy dance with him when they enter. She declines, he does it anyway (that's why we're friends). Bride and Groom aren't at the end of the procession. Where are they? Oh, popping out of a chapel that rises from the stage - AWESOME! I've got to get one of those for my wedding... uhhh.

DJ plays some questionable floor clearers throughout the night and I'm starting to get worried that dancing will not occur. Just started on drink #4 or 5 and am just hoping to get 1 song I like. Then, I hear it. The begining of "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire. Grab my friend Michelle's sister Amy's hand we're out there.

Lowlight - during the conga line we passed the bar and I jumped off to get another Kettle and Sprite. Rejoin the party on the dance floor to limbo, Hermes Conrad style. Get under the first time no problem. Second time, little difficulty getting down, so I pause and take another sip. I'm under the bar hopping through when I slip and start going down. Safety first I keep my head up to avoid smashing it and possibly getting a concussion, but my drink is not so lucky. Glass shatters on the dance floor and I'm lying in vodka, sprite and ice. Awesome. I got up and immediately apologized profusely to Scott and Kristen. They shook it off and I went back to see Steve for a refill to sulk into.

Alright, called out to the dance floor for the garter toss. Boquet was caught by the maid of honor, Tori. I'm standing next to her boyfriend A.J. (or as I call him - the Phenominal One, long story but beer pong related) who informs me that Scott intends to throw the gartner directly at him, and asks for my help. No problem, that's what I do - help people. Scott turns and fires, and I casual take a step forward, reach out and snag the garter in the air, pivot and strut off a la saturday night fever. I'm just about at my table to get my drink when I hear them calling me back. This is the part I did not know. He who catches the garter, must apply it to she who caught the boquet. Ah, so helping out A.J. has now deteroirated into feeling up his girlfriend. Interesting turn of events. Well I know I'm going to keep it pretty PG, but the crowd wants a show. Fortunately, I've got prop sunglasses (that they gave out earlier, no I don't go to weddings with my own props. I'm not Carrot Top. I'm funny) to help make this more believeable. So I keep it tasteful, yet entertaining. Someone posted a video on Facebook but I don't feel like copying it to repost it here.

Hit another lul as me and my friends are back at our table, drinking, and waiting for a song to dance to. Waiting. Amy says that if we wait for the perfect song we'll never get out there. Works everytime. Hit it - "Billie Jean". I don't know if anyone was headed to the dance floor or not, but I beat everyone out there and busted my 78% moonwalk across the floor and into the spin. A few fantastic moves later and the floor is filled. A few more moves and my friends have all gathered around me as I'm showing off the moves. Great song, great time. Couple more great songs to dance to, ending with "Don't Stop Believin'".

Anyway, I'm not sure I'm going with any of this. Just really wanted to mention what a great night it was, for myself but more importantly for my friends, the bride and groom. I wish you guys nothing but the best because I believe you're the best match for each other.

Salud.