Daniels Wedding Blues Chapter 5: The House Always Wins

The broken, beaten and battered corpse I called my own woke up at 7 ish in the morning to the feeling of strangulating nerves and a horrorable resolution that came in waves. My mind was beginning to remember everything that had happened before, mostly taking stock in the drunken texting and pissing away of money that had happened. For at least 20 minutes I lay in the hotel bed paralyzed by ghosts Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. Light crept through the shades and while my Sherpa guide slept in the twin bed across from me, I felt alone with myself.  Seeping into my brain, thoughts flew into the projectionist booth that made up the recollection of the events the night before: giving away fifty dollars each to my friends, buying drink after drink at a high priced bar. Gambling away money oh and can’t forget the text messages sent. Somehow I remembered the pool area I had terrorized the night before and sought sanctuary in the nonjudgmental waters.

      A pair of gym shorts took the place of the cut proper swim trunks and instead of the boastful drunk man the night before, a sad and defeated hungover best man slowly walked his way to the hot tub. I sat in the hot tub for a long time without a single expression or word bubbling to the surface, just simmering in the soup like the giant turnip that I truly was. Different thoughts began to slide in and that’s when the dread from before made its unwelcome return like an actor long dead in the third act of a play to shock the audience. So much money had been spent on trivial consumptions in the pursuit of that one moment when everything was perfect and beautiful.

      So many drunken text messages found themselves in the inbox of unsuspecting girls who happen to talk to me, waking up to messages at 2 in the morning wanting to flirt and cuddle. Shame on you Tyler, shame on all you did last night. I could spin this story into a tale of a party animal; reframe everything I wrote with a cool vibe and just laugh off the sad parts. Sweating out the hangover gave me no escape from the feeling of shame and regret. I went back to the hotel room and sat down as my roommate continued to sleep her hangover off. Checking my phone brought more dread then in the hot tub; so many misspellings, so many cries for attention.  

      Sunlight continued to chisel away at my head like an ice pick and as Laura showered, I sat down to this laptop and lit up another cigarette. Sober and hurting, smoking still sounded like a good idea and I began to power through the pain and start writing. Record must be taken and lessons must be learned I told myself while puffing away and not really getting anything out of it. From that 45 minute gathering period came several paragraphs from this story with a guarantee that with a clearer head, all of it would be written down. Easiest way to tell which sections were written out that day by a self-loathing lush would be to focus on the darkest parts that sound like someone who hates themselves. In that moment, that’s all I could think of other then where the fuck was the Advil.

            All roads lead to eggs and coffee at some point; recovery or defeat each of us came together after a long night just as much for regrouping then hunger. Our larger family had planned on a big breakfast together in the casino buffet as a way to “bond” but I chose to pass. This plan was concocted by the same father in law who did everything in his power to micromanage a wedding to death. Picking a set time for everyone to arrive and get food was the icing on the contrive jackass cake that he somehow kept shoveling down the throats of all those involved. Between you and me, having breakfast in the greasy spoon instead of with everyone else was just as much about fuck you to him than anything else; why you’d corral a group of people who just celebrated the night away into your plans over theirs (see sleeping in or romantic morning for the newlyweds) is beyond me but since I don’t have a micro penis I guess I’ve never understand. Via phone tag, Laura and Katie once again joined me only this time in much favorable conditions.

Together the three of us sipped on bad coffee and ordered overpriced omelets while discussing the events of the night before. Much bitching was made over the adjacent breakfast plans like the chatty housewives we were. Dripping like cream into black coffee, I was told of everything that happened the night before and all of our adventures with my wallet hanging open like a fresh prisoner’s pants during lights out. Replaying everything intertwined with the giving of money, Katie and Laura laughed as they each slipped money onto the table back at me. Turns out they won back all the money they were given and kept everything over the original fifty.

 It was nice what I had tried to do, but stupid on so many levels with regards to my finanatial situation at the time. God bless those two attractive and forgiving women for spending the evening and morning hanging around me. If I had gotten into a fight they might have stepped in and saved me from a few punches, if I had wanted to press my luck and play 100 bones on a single hand then Katie and Laura would have shoed me away from the table. Had I been alone that night, I might be writing this from my parent’s basement or somewhere else that insinuates a giant fuck up. It was this realization over coffee that put it all together for me; the whole point of this giant pain in the ass weekend and ceremony.

            This wedding wasn’t about the cermimony, dumb sand gimmick or even a reception with party games and familure songs. Each person involved in the setup of this event was seeking that perfect moment, a rising happy feeling that filled someone with a glow that carried them though all the scenes in the movie that didn’t have the same shine. My mother and father all looked past the ceremony, the wedding and everything else that taxed their wallets for the moment when their son was truly happy. Seeing him let down that fake face and show the emotion of someone who finally found someone who loves him and makes him happy is what everything was about in the end. For them, it was that moment that made it all worthwhile.       

     Justin and his wife might not remember many of the events that led up to their moment due to stress and nerves but that one second when they had a blissful loving embrace to themselves and shut out everyone else, that was the moment they had searched for this whole adventure. Looking into each other’s eyes, holding each other during a hug or a dance, that was the second when the world shut itself out and all was well. Nothing else mattered for them but a pure love that the rest of us dammed souls search for with every Tinder date.

     I felt many things watching my brother in his biggest minute but I couldn’t find my own moment. It took being inside a greasy spoon to get the crescendo of a song called Sharp Wedding Blues to my ears. This was my song to sing, the last note mine to hold out as the crowd cheered in thanks of the story I had played through the microphone. Through the bachelor party, ceremony and drunken ending I had connected with someone; friends from all walks of life at a bachelor party, groomsmen and groom together in front of the church, my father and I toasting a drink, my mother singing with her son and to cap off an adventure was my two close friends watching over me in a swimming pool. Hell, even after we got up and found time for coffee and breakfast before going our separate ways.

     I felt cared for, loved and appreciated during a weekend not about me. We all want that feeling, and in celebrating my brother’s big day I experienced those emotions and played my part in sharing the love and giving others that same happy relief. Let’s call it generic and overplayed while knowing deep down that it’s true. We all succeeded that weekend in our own ways; some of us looking better the next day then others.

The three of us sitting together shared stories and spilt the tip, knowing it was time to close the curtain on our play. Laura and Katie grabbed their luggage as did I and after saying good bye to all our friends and family trapped in father in law breakfast hell, made one last memory. Together the three of us took a picture together, Laura and Katie with one giant ham in the middle. Hugs exchanged, good byes said. Sunset was coming down on the heroes of the old west and it was time to part ways. Laura did her last act of saintly attrition and dropped me off to my car. With a turn of the key and a press play on a IPod attached to a car stereo, credits rolled and Sharp Wedding Blues played one last time.

You know the melody, you’ve sung the words before though they were not your own, together we can do this acapella and let them hear it all the way in the cheap seats. Listen to a sad blues song of a best man trying to fight financial temptation and find happiness while playing a role in a grand production. Raise you glasses, put your arm around your brother and sing the chorus with me my friends.

“Light up a smoke because it’s in season, play the numbers and machines for no reason because lights flash bright and we celebrate his night while a lonesome band plays Daniels Wedding Blues.”

“Friends become family as the blackouts roll in, texting and sexting in drunken sin but the lights shine bright and we honor his night while a lonesome band plays Daniels Wedding Blues.

“Drink till we feel that warm loving glow, suit up and take stage for the last picture show but slot lights shine bright and we honor Justin’s big night while a lonesome band plays Daniels Wedding Blues.”

Authors note- If you enjoyed any of this, let me know. @drunkoncomedy.