Few weddings are enjoyable, a majority are designed to make singles feel lonely, couples to feel jealous and friends to feel overextended. The living proof that a wedding can be something other than a catalyst for suicidal tendencies, is the wedding of my Straights.
Yes, Eric and Rebecca made the decision after two years of cohabitation to tie the knot, lock it down, make it legal, and most important, ensure they will have an even more difficult time separating and destroying out threesome. So to speak.
The outdoor ceremony lasted only twenty minutes and was filled with actual laughter, rare when it comes to many weddings. The ceremony had the offbeat charm of these two, which can only be created when truly spontaneous and sincere. In fact, on one occasion a tear nearly came to the eye of this jaded New Yorker. Of course, I choked it back, I’m still me for Christ’s sake.
All of this was the lovely conclusion to a weekend filled with sips, spills and tumbles. Which I mean quite literally. You see, upon arrival in Saint Lucia, my date, B1, and I checked into the resort and made our way directly to the nearest bar without passing go or needing to collect $200. Everything for the weekend was included in the price of our room…everything!
Considering we arrived on a Thursday, a normal person may have paced the drinking to ensure order was kept. No. No, this was not the case at all. Case and point: To be a good friend, I offered to refill the cups of two others when I was making a bar run for myself. What follows is why you should only be selfish when it comes to alcohol, never lending anyone a hand.
Collecting the drinks, three in hand for those counting, I made my way back to the hot tub. Two steps in and my feet slipped from beneath me, hands full, my ass fell directly on the concrete step. Jolts of pain shooting up my spine, head coming back above water, the drinks were safely above my head; priorities. Now the problem was the intense pain radiating from my ass. To numb the pain, or at least the brain sending signals of pain, more alcohol was consumed.
Though my ass hurt, and to be clear, I was walking around like an old man with a cane shoved up my ass, we still needed to have fun. Paddle boarding, kayaking, water slides, lazy river, bar, bar, bar, pool bar, and then the boat. After all this fun, sun, drinking and pain, we had to get on a boat. Now, Rebecca may have told me I was embarrassing her amidst all this, a fair comment as I was definitely going balls to the wall, we had to ride this boat. I lasted a few minutes before the sea sickness set in and B1 was literally holding my hair back over a teeny, tiny little hand-pump toilet. The benefit of all this vomiting, two hours later when B1 was drunk to the point of sleeping on the beach, I was now able to be her responsible adult.
Before my ass breaking, Rebecca commented that she had never seen B1 and I drunk at the same time. Now we know why, one of us always needs to be in charge of babysitting the other. We made it through the second and third days without incident, only when we were both partaking was there an issue.
The moral of this intoxicating story: If it’s an all-inclusive resort, drink and eat everything. You may break your ass and it will hurt for weeks. In the end [there’s the pun], it’s worth the effort, even if only to wish two friends the best of luck as they make a commitment you’ll never be able to attempt.