I go to a lot of weddings. Every year I write about the love, liquor, and languishing that goes on at the nuptials I attend. This year, I received an all-time low amount of wedding invitations. Mostly because my friends are all married (or hopeless), but also because I planned on moving to Korea. So this event would be my last wedding in America for a while. I guess by the time I return, maybe my friends will get divorced and re-married and then the cycle can begin anew.
KC: Aren't you supposed to be wearing a tux?
DM: This is a Chinese wedding. I've got like four costume changes.
KC: You're just like Celine Deon.
Dirty Mike and I roomed together in college. And he definitely lived up to his nickname. He didn't bang a lot of girls, he was just a filthy human being. But we did the usual roommate stuff: drink in the shower, drink wearing only underpants, and drink at sunrise (or sunset or both).
Over the years, Dirty Mike has become less dirty. Mostly because he's had a girlfriend. Which has forced him to become, Relatively Clean Mike. On one hand, it pains me that he doesn't fish old sandwiches out of the garbage to eat them. On the other hand, his living space smells a lot cleaner.
We all knew DM would get married soon. He tried to back out of the NYU Miser's Club Bet (we all bet a thousand dollars on who would get married last). Then he told us all that he'd never find a hotter wife than his girlfriend, and we all agreed. Because his wife is hot. And cooks. And makes sure he's wearing clothes when he goes outside.
Initializing drunk mode.So all this wedding planning shit happened. And a few months later, I found myself in my friend's apartment in Manhattan, trying to put on a suit and tie as I guzzled light beer and Red Bull vodkas at the same time.
BRAIN: Five minutes until the party bus gets here.
KC: Are we allowed to drink on the party bus?
BRAIN: What kind of fucking retard are you?
KC: I mean, do they have booze on there, or do you bring your own?
BRAIN: We better be safe and take these four cases. And these two bottles.
KC: I'll take my flask and back-up flask just in case.
So on the party bus, duh, we partied. And just like old times, some of our friends showed up late or missed the bus. Some of us continued to get dressed since they spent too much prep time drinking or rolling blunts. Unfortunately, my New York friends have started moving away from the city, so we see each other less and less. Luckily, when we do see each other, it's always just like we're undergrads. Which is fun, until somebody screams, "KC! Sing the ‘I put my hand upon her knee' song!!!"
If you've ever played rugby, or sung disgusting, sexist, un-PC, and awesome songs, you know, except for your shitbombed friends, most people aren't crazy to hear your singing. And I planned on not being the drunkest person at the wedding, because I wanted to actually remember this event.
So we arrived at this Chinese wedding castle thing in Flushing Queens. We were some of the very few white people. We met up with more people, who ushered us to some stools and said, "You'll never fucking believe it. It's an open bar. With everything. I mean. You want shots of Grey Goose, you'll get shots of Grey Goose. It's fucking crazy."
But still, I figured, I want to remember this. So I ordered a Beam and Diet Coke (I drink diet because I'd rather have cancer than be fat). We finally ran into Dirty Mike, dressed really dapper in a gray suit.
KC: Aren't you supposed to be wearing a tux?
DM: This is a Chinese wedding. I've got like four costume changes.
KC: You're just like Celine Deon.
DM: Exactly.
KC: Hard-fucking-core.
We milled around, ran into some old friends, other folks, and other shit. We ate a bunch of food, which they kept trucking in. Despite the fact they're tiny people, Chinese folks know how to eat. We scarfed on fried chicken (with the head still on it), fruits, shit I didn't know, and shark fin soup. Now, not to sound like a PETA pussy, but I felt a little bad eating sharks, since there aren't many of them. And how are people going to be afraid of classically brilliant movies like Jaws if all the great whites are extinct? But, I figured the shark was already dead. So I might as well eat it.
During dinner, a bunch of friends asked me about my move to Korea. Big effin' deal. A lot of the same questions: How old will your kids be? Are you afraid of getting blown up? How long do you think it will take until you marry a Korean girl?
I've never been one to back down from a challenge, especially when no challenge was presented. So I said, "You really think I'm going to marry a Korean girl? I've got a hundred bucks that says I won't marry a Korean." I don't care if I meet the big-boobied Korean sultan's nymphomaniac daughter. I'm winning that hundred dollars. Later, friends even made side bets behind my back to see how long I'll last.