The weekender pt. 1: a drunken punch-up at a wedding

I really didn’t want to go to this wedding. I have spent the last year attending a wedding every other month. This is not an exaggeration. I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to hear the cute stories about how we met and awkward toasts. I don’t want to watch another father-daughter dance with overused music. I absolutely don’t want to hear “Celebration” again. That is the most tired song in the history of the world. I really don’t want to tinkle the glass and watch anybody kiss. Just go to your room and get it started thank you. All that being said I couldn’t say no to going to see my best childhood friend Peter Clement tie the knot. Now I haven’t kept in touch with Peter as well as I should have over the past ten years, but I still felt an obligation, partly due to family pressure, to go.
The ceremony and reception was in Eastern NC. We got there and saw that the venue was surprisingly classy. It was a bed and breakfast with a fairly large reception hall. Surprisingly the whole experience went off without a hitch. The food was decent. There were Coronas and Amstel and wine and such. A sister and brother of the groom, my brother William, my cousin Christiana, and a rather attractive young lady who was escorted by someone who she insisted was just a “friend”. She seemed interesting and pretty friendly. The evening went on pretty well from. We shared some “special sauce” I had in my suit coat as well. Everyone was having a good time dancing and joking around and things of this nature.

So the evening continued on enjoyably. It all went very well . I got the young lady’s number before the night was over which was exciting at the time, but found out later in the weekend when I used it, that the “friend” was really more than a friend. That was just Friday. More to come shortly.

PS: to anybody whose wedding i've been: it wasn't your wedding that made me feel this way. it's just a result of sensory overload and my current state of mind.