The trip through the southland was rockin. A real good time. Sunny days, excellent scenery, great drive, and the beach. On my first morning back in New York, I woke up to a goddam snow storm. That was quite a shock, since not only was I acclimated to the warm South Carolina weather, but when I left New York, it was 70 degrees. When I lived in DC, just about every time I took a weekend trip, it was sunny on my way out, and raining or snowing on my way back. I took that as a clear sign that I wasn't supposed to live in DC. We're keeping track of the New York weather now.
But the trip itself was great. On wednesday the 2nd, Jed and I piled into our rental car and headed for Lexington, VA, our old college town. Due to some traffic and other variables, the trip took longer than expected, with us arriving in Lexington shortly after 11. Sitting briefly with ex-girlfriend Liz, who was rather ill and had lost her voice, Jed and I hit the town. We went down to the Palms, where we did a lot of post-21 drinking, and ordered some food and beers. Jed's bottle of Bud Lite was $1.50. Our total drink and food bill came out to 17 dollars. You know, it's doubtful that I could be making less money than I am now regardless of where I lived. If I lived in the South, I'd be significantly better off, that's for sure. Anyway, it was both not surprising and extremely amazing that the type of student who attends Washington and Lee University has not changed in the least bit in the five years since I graduated. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since they probably haven't changed much in 20 years, and I did get a good glimpse of incoming students when I was a camp counselor for the university's summer program. I guess it'd been just so long since I'd seen the southern-boy bowl haircut and the polo shirts and khaki pants that seeing all that again all at once was something of a shock. Made me feel real old and out of place.
Anyway, then Jed and I ran out to the WalMart super center and revelled in its giant isles and ridiculously low prices. Grocery stores in NYC have aisles that no one who's even a bit obese could fit through. The supermarket isles in WalMart are luxuriously wide, so even the biggest fattie can make his/her way to the biscuit gravy. We also spent a lot of time trying on cheap hats and sunglasses. I almost bought two pairs of boxer-briefs, which I've never even considered wearing, just because they were only 4 dollars. Whoever said never to buy anything just because it's cheap was obviously never in a WalMart supercenter at 2 AM, sleep deprived and a tiny bit buzzed.
The "flying nun," as everyone called it, in the W&L library. Many nights was I haunted by visions of this weird thing during my walk home. It was right by the stairs to the entrance, and it's pretty fucking creepy.
The backside of Tucker Hall, where I spent an inordinately large amount of my college career in the language lab, listening to Chinese tapes.
WalMart, 2 AM. I make this face a lot lately. This hat cost 20 bucks. I told Jed if it were 10, I'd have bought it. Later that night, the hat was feature in one of my dreams, selling for 11 dollars. I had to make a decision, but woke up before it was made. Why must my mind fuck with me?
Jed, in same hat. We both agreed that we looked totally cool in this felt cowboy hat, but also knew we'd probably never wear it outside the house.On Thursday, we arrived in South Carolina around 8 pm, and met up with former SHOE roommate Aaron, whose wedding we would be attending on Saturday, along with the other male wedding attendees. Other guests included former roommate Dan and our friend Trevor from college, who I am destined to see only at weddings it seems. Jed and I met them at Gilligans, a seafood restaurant just outside Kiawah Island, our eventual destination. Jed and I were a bit worried, with a party of twelve, that at the end of the meal, the bill would just be divided 12 ways. Being both financially strained just getting to South Carolina, this was the nightmare scenario. But I was sort of resigned to that fact, so I just ordered the only item on the menu that said "market price," which usually means "pay out your ass." If it was going to be split 12 ways, then fuck it, I'm getting the crab legs and everyone else can pick up my slack. In the end, however, Aaron's dad picked up the check, which was a terribly decent thing to do. The most notable aspects of Gilligan's were their amazingly tasty hushpuppies, and recessed buckets built into the tables. When I sit down at a table and there are buckets built into it, I know I am in for a good meal. Even the green beans were great.
Kiawah Island is a gated community on the Carolina coast, and many of the houses serve as summer vacation homes. So the wedding attendees were put up in several of these homes, with about five to a house. I stayed with former SHOE roommates Dan and Aaron, along with their Dan's wife Jen and Aaron's wife-to-be. When I went over to visit Jed's hacienda, I was somewhat alarmed by the "Danger: Alligators in water" sign by the lake by his house. My last visit to SC, I do remember seeing alligators, but it's always somewhat alarming to realize that there are deadly predators so nearby. And sure enough, standing on jed's porch, there was an alligator taking sun or stalking prey on a not-too-distant shore. Jed had devised ways in which he wanted to taunt an alligator, and Trevor also mentioned something about taunting the gator outside his house. Alcohol and gator taunting did now really appeal to me, however.
On Friday morning, Dan and I decided to go running on the beach. It seemed like a good idea at the time, trying to get some excercise in a vacation filled with eating and drinking and not sleeping. This was short live, however, as the sand on the beach turned out to be excessively hard, which caused me all sorts of back pain, and a significant wind made the run even harder. So after about a quarter mile, we said fuck it. Then we went shopping for beer, eggs, sausage, muffins, and assorted snacks.
The rehearsal dinner on Friday was quite an event. Aaron's parents had rented a gorgeous house on nearby Seabrook Island, and hosted a Low Country South Carolina cookout. Highlights for me included piles and piles of steamed oysters, which were presented with white gloves and oyster shuckers. We just stood there, grabbed a pile of oysters, which were stuck together in clumps, ripped those mothers open, and sucked out the tasty little morsels. Also present were present was a barbecued whole pig, and a huge pile of assorted food that included sausages, potatoes, and corn on the cob. Personally, I found the whole thing just short of orgasmic.
Dan, shucking oysters at the rehearsal dinner.
Jed, Trevor, and moi. You can tell when people are posing for a picture, because no one is talking, and everyone is staring blanking at each other.
The four SHOE roommates, and Trevor
Jed, flying a stunt kite on the beach at Kiawah Island.After spending most of the afternoon at the beach on Saturday, I drove out to the wedding with Dan's wife Jen, whom I like very much. However, she apparently didn't have a head for directions. I had asked Aaron earlier in the day if the wedding was on Kiawah, since the rehearsal dinner was on Seabrook. He assured me it was on Kiawah. It was partly my fault, when Jen asked me if we needed the directions, and I told her I trusted her memory to get us there. I continued trusting it all the way to the edge of Seabrook Island, at which point I was quite sure we were butt lost. There had been several mishaps/omens during the course of our wrong-way voyage, including a freshly-hit deer in the road, and me spacing out wandering into traffic, nearly causing a disastrous accident. We did get a good view of a rainbow, right about where the wedding was actually taking place. Somehow I always figured if I were ever trying to find the end of a rainbow, it would be for a more grandiose purpose than attending Aaron's wedding. It'd at least have to be my own wedding. Anyway, we got to the right golf club, sprinted inside- and I must say Jen moved quite swiftly in formal wear and heels- just in time to catch the kiss and the prayer. We were both quite embarrassed, as the wedding party and club employees watched us race through the club and into the serene ceremony, which was really quite beautiful, framed by the marshlands and setting sun, which has just broken through after a slight rain.
The first moments of married life, just as Jen and I arrived at the wedding.
A particularly picturesque sunset after the wedding.
I've decided that I like weddings. Everyone's in a good mood, there's tasty food and snacks, free drinks, and in this case, cigars. I don't smoke cigars, and they smell like shit, but if everyone else is smoking them, or if there's a big box of Dominicans just sitting there, what the hell. Plus, every hand gesture you make is magnified ten fold when you're holding a cigar. I also goaded Aaron's ex-girlfriend, who was sitting at our table and totally trashed, into telling a few grossly inappropriate stories. So Aaron's young cousins, whom we had never met before but were sitting with us, got to hear this girl yell "faggot!" and "motherfucker!" several times in a drunken slur. It was all terribly amusing. It's not often that you see two ex-girlfriends of the groom at a wedding, so this sort of thing couldn't have been totally unexpected.
Dan, Me, and Aaron's friend Rick.
Jed and me, at the altar.
Jed, puffing away at a Romeo y Julieta cigarJed and I had planned on stopping in DC on the way back to New York, but a shortly after getting in the car, we began toying with driving the whole way in one shot. The thought of sleeping in our own beds, and having all of Monday off, was quite appealing. Dan and his wifey were also headed toward DC, so we stopped and had dinner with them shortly before reaching the Virginia border on I-95. That really ate into our time, but it was a tasty burger. Plus, you never know when you're going to see people again, so it was good to have one more meal together. I'm starting to think that I'll only see people at weddings. The drive again took longer than expected, and Jed and I didn't roll into Park Slope until after 3:30. About 12 miles from home, right before the Verrazano Narrows bridge between Brooklyn and Staten Island, I was going crazy trying to stay awake when Jed said, "Oh, we have cruise control?" This was after driving 1800 miles.