Earlier this week, LJ and I unintentionally reenacted The Perfect Storm, except in a car instead of a boat. We were golfing Monday when it began to pour on the 17th hole. It was also thundering a bit, but being the true golfers we are--and let's face it, not having that much to lose--we finished the round.
On the way back to LJ's, they were giving thunderstorm and tornado warnings on the radio. The rain intensified to the point that I was having trouble seeing. I distinctly recall the phrase "Where is the road?" being used at least once, and also running over my mental checklist of what to do if I spotted a tornado--which pretty much consists of halting the vehicle and jumping into a ditch. At one point I may or may not have been cruising down the turn lane for an indefinite period time, but I'm pretty sure I was.
Then it started hailing, like I have never seen in all my 36 years of mostly unfulfilled potential. We were still probably 4 or 5 miles from LJ's and by this time, traffic had slowed to like 20 miles per hour. My vehicle was getting absolutely pelted, so I decided to try and find some sort of shelter. I noticed a couple of cars had pulled into a church parking lot and parked underneath trees, so I joined them.
Didn't help.
The sky was angry that day, my friends. For about five minutes solid we sat there 'neath a cedar tree, listening to and watching quarter-to-ping-pong-ball-sized hail bounce off the hood. It felt like the windshield was going to shatter at any second. We both agreed we had never seen anything like it. I may or may not have been cursing the entire time, but most likely was.
Driving home that night, there were widespread power outages. It was quite eerie to be driving along with no street lights or lights from houses. At one point, I saw what looked to be several flashlights up ahead in the otherwise pitch blackness. As I was trying to figure out what was going on, I nearly crashed into two trees that were completely blocking the road, forcing me to backtrack and take another route home.
Tuesday morning shed light on even more destruction. Trees were down all over town. On my way to work, I saw several that had fallen onto houses. By that time, I felt pretty lucky to just have some scratches and dents on my car.
Speaking of harrowing experiences, my old roomate is getting married this weekend. And you guessed it, I'm in the wedding. This despite the fact that I never see him and we talk maybe once year. Those are the best.
This will be my 5th or 6th wedding to be in. You know what they say: Always a groomsman, never any cute single bridesmaids.
For some reason, someone with apparently no appreciation for convenience and common sense came up with the brilliant idea that the groomsmen would buy their suits for this wedding instead of renting them.
Wha-? Why? I'm befuddled.
First of all, no guy wants to be in a wedding, ever, no matter what he tells you. I mean, sure it's a great honor. (Not really.) But at least when we do find ourselves in this unappealing situation, the tuxedo rental makes things as painless as possible.
The tux is the prostitute of the fashion world. It's convenient and relatively hassle-free. There's no commitment. You know where to find them and you know what you're getting. You pay a hundred bucks, use it for a few hours and return it, barely worse for the wear. So why would anyone want to complicate the process?
On top of that, come to find out that we're not even getting the whole ensemble. We have to furnish our own white dress shirt, socks, and black shoes. And there's no vest or anything. So basically, I'm buying a jacket, pants, and a tie. And I'm still not 100% sure we get to keep the tie.
The "logic" I was given behind this idea was that it would be better to pay a little more and be able to keep the suit than pay a hundred bucks and have to return it. Well, riddle me this: Where else am I ever going to wear this suit?
Every wedding has a different, specific style of tux. The chances of this suit matching the tuxes for any future wedding I may be in are astronomical at best. I'd have a better chance of being killed in a hailstorm. Actually, in light of recent events, I would like to redact that last sentence.
And finally, since he was my roomate for a year, and since I most likely won't be
To the blushing bride: Don't ever leave any food sitting anywhere that it might be found unless you are OK with it being eaten.
Hear, hear!
"Your best friend Harry has a brother Larry. In five days from now he's gonna marry. He's hopin' you can make it there if you can, 'cos in the ceremony you'll be the best man..."
