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The ramblings and observations of a kidney transplant recipient, although not necessarily for that reason.

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Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Saturday morning I woke up and checked the news on TV first thing. It had been four days since 9/11 and planes still weren't flying. Everyone that attended the wedding had given up their flights and driven the long distance to Rosarito, but Jim and I still had a flight to take. Monday morning we had to fly to Cabo San Lucas. If I couldn't get there this whole trip would be a big waste of time, time that I could have spent at home with people I care about. Although, the truth was I was scared to fly. I had spent the last several days wondering it was like for the passengers on those planes. I may not be ready to get on one myself.

I met Jim and Steve for breakfast. Jim mentioned that he woke up with a trail of ants in his bed and on his face. I don't think Jim would be writing letters of recommendation on the Oasis website. He complained to the front desk and they said they would take care of it. We couldn't figure out how, though. Jim had visions of sleeping Saturday night with his head buried in a pillow-ful of Raid. Both of us were unhappy with The Oasis and were reconsidering our plans to stay until Monday.

The wedding was that night and most of the guests were driving home Sunday morning. The only reason we decided to stay until Monday is we wouldn't be flying to Cabo until Monday and we had a much different vision of how this weekend was going to end up. Going into this weekend we mistakenly assumed we would actually enjoy another day at the (un)glorious Rosarito resort. We made the decision to drive back Sunday morning and get a hotel room in San Diego somewhere. Somewhere with clean showers and ant-less beds.

The decision to have the ceremony and reception all the place we were staying was convenient, but as the wedding was to take place at sunset, it made for an awkward day of just drinking beers by the pool and waiting anxiously for the sun to go down, so we could get this over. I hate weddings as it is and to wait around all day for it to happen was annoying. At least my ushering duties will be over after the ceremony. No one would miss me if I disappeared early from the reception. I could eat dinner and then slip out to my room to get out of the tux as fast as possible and enjoy a quiet night of American TV with Spanish subtitles.

I sat by the pool most of the afternoon, mostly by myself, while others were getting ready. I waited until the last minute to go to my room and dress then made my way back to the pool area where guests had begun to congregate for the wedding to be held in a gazebo along the beach next to the pool. I sat escorted women to their seats as instructed and let the men find their own way. I had done a perfect job. No one was without a seat thanks to me.

The ceremony went off as planned as the sun set over the seven up cans and dirty diapers that made the Rosarito beach so beautiful. When it was over, I walked off to the reception to find my seat and wait for dinner. As I was walking along the path to the reception hall, I was stopped by Steve who told me I had to come back for pictures. What? They want me in their pictures? I went back and suffered the hour of "OK, you in a little. You tilt your head that way. You stand in the front row. OK....BEAUTIFUL! SMILE!"

After the pictures Elena told me there was a seating change. I would no longer be sitting with my friends at a table far off in the corner our of the spotlight. Grant, co-best man, wouldn't be sitting at the head table, and I would take his place next to the maid of honor instead. The subtext being that Grand had to sit with is wife (who was not in the wedding party) and sitting next to the maid of honor would make Grant's wife jealous. She was super hot after all, which made this conversation a good-news/bad-news sort of thing.

Good news - I would be sitting next to a super hot female while eating my dinner. One who I actually liked and had pretty good conversations with over the past couple days.
Bad news - she doesn't drink.
Bad news - I don't have any ruffies nor the time for a trip to downtown Rosarito, so getting in her pants would be unlikely.
Bad news - leaving early and unnoticed would be much harder.
Bad news - Everyone at the wedding thought I was the best man and someone unsuccessfully suggested that I make a speech.

Did I mention how much I hate weddings? Hell has many levels. Several levels of my hell include weddings.
posted by othur-me @ 9:47 PM  
6 Comments:
  • At 1:56 AM, Blogger Jester said…

    Do you mean to tell me that you couldn't charm even wedding celebration sex out of the maid of honor?

    What kind of guy are you?

    You so gay.

     
  • At 9:01 AM, Blogger Famous Quotations said…

    Jester nominated you for an award.

    Your site has won a Blog of the Day Award (BOTDA)



    Award Code
    http://blogofthedayawards.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-of-day-awards-code-for-winners.html

    Thank you,

     
  • At 9:27 AM, Blogger othur-me said…

    By gay, do you mean "lame" or "faggy"?

     
  • At 5:39 PM, Blogger Jane said…

    sounds like a God awful trip!


    "The ceremony went off as planned as the sunset over the seven up cans and dirty diapers that made the Rosarito beach so beautiful".........<----CRACKED ME UP!

     
  • At 9:14 PM, Blogger Killer said…

    I don't understand how you were at a wedding party without ruffies. Never leave home without ruffies.

     
  • At 4:21 PM, Blogger rawbean said…

    Hehe this story is great. I can't believe we are on part six and it's still going though!! I wonder what's gonna happen next...

     
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