This last weekend Katie and I had the pleasure of traveling down to Memphis to celebrate Stuart and Hillary’s wedding and the fact that even a BBQ famous city still can’t get on Kansas City’s level. You ain’t got nothing on our burnt ends, bitches.
We left Thursday after work, deciding to spend the night in Springfield to break the trip up. It went something like this…
EXT. Springfield, MO – night; 11:30pm
A young couple; road weary; pulls up to a brand new, beautiful Hampton Inn.
“I’m sorry, you booked this room tomorrow night – we have no rooms for you”
“No problem, we’ve go to the one down the street.”
INT. Super old Hampton Inn
Fat children run down the halls screaming. A man in cut-off jeans is pounding a Keystone Light in the background.
“We only have smoking rooms.”
“We’ll give it a try.”
INT. Smoking Hotel Room
Shadows recede to show the yellow stained celling, painted in tar brought forth by the weak-willed breathes of those that came before. The stale odor of cancerous failures loft lazily amongst the dated decor.
“Oh hell no.”
So we left that place and got a room at the La Quinta Inn. Which was lovely, cheap and non-smoking. And they had waffle machines. Which are one of my favorite things in existence. Like, I’m pretty sure that should have been one of the items housed in Voyager in case Aliens stumbled upon it. Music, poetry, art, and the waffle machine are what, in my opinion, mark a truly great civilization. But I digress.
The next day, we finished our journey to Memphis, where we ran into the groom (Stuart) at Men’s Warehouse. This is where I had my “fitting” for my tux. And by fitting, I really mean being given the one size that was a general approximation of my measurements. I had enough left over fabric to construct a rudimentary sail to propel me to wherever my heart desired. Stifling the feeling of being a child wearing the suit of his father, we drove over to the rehearsal. This is where I got to finally meet the other groomsmen. Here’s a breakdown:
Jonathan – The best man/Baritone
Will – The stache
Jeremy – The beard and surprisingly lithe dancer
Mark – The classy one
Kennedy – The loose cannon
Harrison – The hair
Jesse – The style
Palmer – The dome and quips
Dougy – The only one who legitimately fit into his tux
And last but not least…
Stuart – The heart
Fantastic group of guys.
Also, this went down. It was adorable.
After a fantastic rehearsal dinner, we tried to find a bar in Germantown to continue the fun. So we picked the closest one and headed out. Upon pulling up and stepping out of the car we are met by the call “WHITE MEAT, WHITE MEAT, WHITE MEAT.”
Apparently it was a bar where white people were not necessarily welcome. So we left. Quickly. And ate fast food instead.
We got ourselves all dolled up for the big day, and might I say that we were looking fresh.
And Katie even got to hang out with long lost high school friends.
The wedding itself was beautiful. Very classic. Extremely elegant. Wonderfully put together.
Hillary was stunning – when she walked down the aisle I half expected a chorus of woodland creatures to show up and accompany her. Stuart teared up in happiness and the whole room swooned.
My boy Stu done good.
They’re the perfect couple. The kind that you love but secretly hate, knowing that their future house will always be cleaner than yours, they’ll smell faintly of lavender when you just smell like chicken salad and last nights Oreo binge, and that when they complete each others sentences, it won’t be their taco bell order at 1a.m. on a wednesday (love you Katie!).
But on to the real reason for weddings. The dance floor.
We threw down for what.
The groomsmen (myself being one of them) kept that floor hot. There was not one moment that there wasn’t at least two of us up there controlling the funk. And when the DJ lined up the one-two punch of Ke$ha followed by Turn Down For What, the collective work of mankind to civilize itself was torn asunder as we bumped, twerked, and jived ourselves into the instinctual dance of the wild held within.
Best of all, Hillary, who is one of the classiest ladies I’ve ever met, was throwing down hard. It was glorious.
And it got nasty out there in the best sort of ways.
And on that note, congratulations to Stuart and Hillary. You’re beautiful people with beautiful hearts. We wish you eternal happiness, fortune, and waffles. You two deserve it.