I do.....

Apologize, that is. I do apologize for taking so long to blog at length about the Fwiz and Wes Florida wedding bonanza. I returned from the Sunshine State and immediately hit the ground running with summer school and other catch up chores. I know I put a little tid bit entry in to satiate my devoted readers, but I also know that a full, play-by-play account is expected. Far be it from me to disappoint.

The best way to report is, I think, to break down the weekend into pre-wedding festivities, the wedding itself, and post-wedding activities.

Pre Wedding:

Wedensday, 5 July: I spent the evening at Frank and Eileen’s in order to facilitate getting to the airport for the obscenely early Thursday morning flight. I slept on the very comfortable sofa and basked in the glory of E and the Maniac’s extensive cable television menu. I reacquainted myself with the luxury of the remote control, too. I was reluctant to sleep and squander precious television hours, but, alas, I knew I had to be awake at 4:30 and that a long day lay ahead. So, I struck an inner compromise; I allowed myself to fall asleep while some Lifetime drama starring Meredith Baxter-Birney as a drug-addicted mother who gets raped by an unscrupulous thug (Amand Assante) played out on TV. I’m not exactly sure when I fell asleep, but it was sometime after Birney undergoes a traumatizing ER rape kit examination at the hand of a sympathetic and competent physician portrayed brilliantly by Robin Givins, and before the determined DA (Bruce Boxleitner) brings the rapist to justice thanks to the gut-wrenching testimony given by Birney in a harrowing courtroom scene.

Thursday, 6 July:

I awoke at 4:00 AM. That was harsh! By 515, Lauren had E and me packed into her mini-van and en route to pick up Jules, who would accompany us on our flight. All travel went smoothly. Curbside check-in was as easy as pie. Our (DIRECT) flight took off and landed on time. Car rental in Tampa proved to be quick and painless. Fwiz’s directions to the airport were flawless. Everything fell right into place.

On the way to the hotel, we stopped to pick up a few essential provisions. These included a 19 gallon bottle of Tangueray for E, which she claimed was to “share with Julie.” Honestly, I doubt if there was anything left in that bottle by the time Julie crossed the state line into Florida. Jules picked up a bottle of tropical fruit infused Malibu. She became lost in a reverie involving the limitless possible drink combinations that could be concocted with her poison of choice. My faithful readers will hardy be shocked to know that I stuck with my old standard…BEER! I opted for some Corona, Heineken Light and a Bahamian brew. I also purchased a can of the Japanese beer, Kirinichiban, large enough for a small child to swim in. So, you see, it was really just a light drinking weekend for us. Oh, and Jules and I also invested in a package of pre-mixed lemon drop shots cleverly packaged in individual test tubes. We figured they would provide a quick boozy reinforcement in a pinch if necessary. One never knows when such a need might arise. Best to be prepared.

Upon arriving at our hotel, we discovered Reesie, Mary, Johnny and Fwiz, herself, relaxing by the pool. Everybody was remarkably calm and collected considering that the big event would take place in just 48 hours.

At 5:00 PM, uncle Johnny herded all of us (me, Jules, Reesie, Maggie, Peggy and Anthony) into his van and we headed to Tropicana Stadium to watch our beloved Red Sox take on the Tampa Devil Rays. Did Fwiz know, when she planned her wedding, that the Sox would be in town? I choose to believe that she did--that in fact she first consulted the MLB schedule before plannning her nuptuals. Well done Fwiz!

I know, I know, its about time for a pic. Here's the first of a few. Reesie, Maggie, Jules and Peggy make their way into Tropicana Stadium! I love the fact that they are completely decked out in Red Sox gear!



We met Wes's dad at the stadium. He called ahead of time to warn us that the place was simply packed. He said that since Tampa had defeated the Sox in 3 out of 4 games (this being the 4th), the fans were turning out in droves to cheer their team onto a clean sweep.

Let me discuss a few things that struck me about Tropicana Stadium:

1. If this place was, as Wes's dad had stated, "packed," I'd hate to see it on a slow night. At least half the seats were empty and remained so throughout the entire game. Possibly more. Entire sections of really good seats went unoccupied all night. Jesus, at Fenway, even if the Sox are having a horrific season, or even if the cold, crappy New England weather woul drive Shackleton himself indoors, you'd NEVER see even one empty seat. NEVER.

2. The stadium has a huge surrounding parking lot. You drive right up, park your vehicle in a well-lit, clearly-marked parking lot for FREE and then walk SIX INCHES to the entrance. At Fenway, which is honestly smack dab in the middle of the city, there is simply put, no parking at all. Most fans brave the slings and arrows of thousands of spectacularly drunk Sox fans on the green line to get to Fenway. Green line trains are slow, prone to frequent and lengthy breakdowns and delays, completely overcrowded, stuffy, stinky and choc full of the most obnoxious passangers anywhere on the MBTA. But of course....the green line services both major sporting arenas in the city (Fenway and the Fleet, which also doubles as a performance hall), as well as most of the city's colleges and universities. Anyway, those fans foolish enough to opt for driving to the game instead of subjecting themselves to certain torture on the greenline are lucky if they can even get their cars within a mile of Fenway. Oh sure, there are a couple of closeby privately-owned lots (which you can take a second mortgage on your home to afford), and a couple of gas stations whose attendants are willing to let you park in their places out of the kindness of their hearsts (to the tune of 100 dollars per car). All I'm saying is that the ease and facility of parking at Tropicana are at once comforting and kind of creepy (in that parallell universe kind of way!)

3. The third major difference is that Tropicana Stadium is indoors, creating an air-conditioned coccoon around the fans and players, while Fenway, in all its open-air splendor, leaves fans and players alike exposed to the broad spectrum of New England weather. I guess we New Englanders really are hearty stock after all. It seemed strange to see a ballgame indoors, I have to admit.

I should also mention two things Tropicana Stadium and Fenway have in common. Both are crawling with 99% Red Sox fans (true!...there were almost NO Tampa fans) and both charge NASA type numbers for a beer! It is good to know that some common comfort points could be found to make us feel at home!

We had to look long and hard to actually find a real, bonafide Tampa fan. In this guy, we found the real thing. Here is a picture of me fraternizing with "the enemy."




After the game, we had some pretty horrendous traffic to contend with on our trip back to the hotel. We were in the car for two very long and slow hours! When we arrived back at the hotel, I stopped to chat poolside with Auntie Mary and a couple that I presumed to be somehow related to Wes. Thinking this was the case, I figured I would eventually be introduced to them. After several moments, I saw the woman looking rather concentratedly at me. I battled to keep my weary eyes focused and realized that this woman was, in fact, Myra, and that the man sitting next to her was her husband, my uncle and godfather, Michael. I almost fainted. I hadn't seen them in so long that I honestly didn't recognize them. I have to go on record as saying that being reunited with Michael and Myra was definitely a high point of the wedding weekend. Here I am pictured with Michael and Myra. Just photographic evidence that we really HAVE seen each other in the past quarter century!



Friday, 7 July: The wedding rehearsal and preparations for it occupied most of our time this day. Reesie, Jules, Maggie and I went on a 6 hour trek across the entire state of Florida to get our eyebrows waxed. It was cheap enough at 5 dollars, and the woman did a great job.

We spent the afternoon by the pool, having a couple of cocktails and getting ready to go to the rehearsal.

The rehearsal went off without a hitch. Everybody practiced readings, processionals and recessionals. All just to cement the proceedings for the big day, now less than 24 hours hence.

Eileen, Jules and I managed to get spectacularly lost on the way back from the Church to the hotel. At least, we thought we did. In actuality, we just took a massive loop all around, landing back where we started, but taking 30 minutes to do so. Upon returning to the hotel, Jules and I decided that a lemon drop shot was just what the doctor ordered before the dinner. We had just had enough car time at that point. The shots, however, were disgusting, and the only person lamenting the fact that poor Uncle Paul smashed them to smithereens when trying to remove them from a cooler the following day would be Uncle Paul. And he wasn't lamenting the loss of the booze, but rather the fact that he had bare feet when he busted the things. Luckily, nobody sustained any serious injuries.

Anyway, after the dinner, we decided to hit the bar for an evening of karaoke. Maggie wasted no time in securing a copy of the host's song list (very extensive) as well as volunteers to join her in singing. We were in hysterics because as soon as the first woman took to the stage, we knew that this was a very serious karaoke crowd. No screwing around. The "singers" wowed the crowd with their personal renditions of classic showtunes, Sinatra hits, and, my personal favorite, "I'm Too Sexy." This last song was performed by a rather portly and masculine lady who proceeded to make up her own lyrics. I doubt she made these lyrics up on the fly. They flowed way too easily. Suddenly I was glad to have taken the lemon-drop shot detour earlier in the evening. Jules, Maggie and I took to the stage to sing, "I Will Survive." We thought that the combo of our wounded-animal voices, the advanced age of the average karaoke-goer, and the lack of seriousness would cause bedlum, but instead, our song inspired the crowds to get up and dance. Perhaps they had enjoyed lemon drop shots, too? Poor Margaret was sexually assaulted by a lonely old codger who took her swanky dance moves as an invitation to get up and start bumping and grinding.

Reesie has a pretty priceless collection of photos of the disgusted expressions that crept across our faces as an elderly man took to the stage and started singing, "Stroke It." That was just wrong! I left the bar before Jules, Maggie and Reesie took to the stage yet again to perform "Sweet Caroline." In some ways I wish I had seen it, but I know that leaving when I did was what help me keep my sanity intact. Sort of.

Saturday, July 8. Goin' to the Chapel!

The wedding day was upon us.

Fwiz was radiant in her gown. Reesie and Peggy looked awesome in their bridesmaid dresses, too! The color was flattering. The style was delicate and feminine and they both looked fabulous. Auntie Mary's dress was lovely and she looked like the perfect, "mother of the bride." Uncle Johnny was so proud as he walked Fwiz down the aisle. Everything was picture perfect.

I have decided to include a picture of Fwiz and Bob because it is just a great brother/sister shot and also because they both look so great! For a picture of Fwiz and her husband, Wes, see the following posting. (I'm bummed that I can't include more than 5 pics per posting here!)



The wedding was lovely. The priest delivered a really nice mass and his messages about marraige were very poignant and meaningful. It was really beautiful.

The reception was FABULOUS! How often do you find yourself wishing a wedding reception would continue? I actually could not believe whent the DJ started announcing the final song! Everybody had a blast. The food was great. The hall was really pretty and the PARTY atmosphere of the reception was beyond great! I can't remember the last time I danced so much. EVERYBODY was up dancing. This is the sign of a truely successful wedding reception, I think.




Here is the DJ in his full Reggae outfit. Throughout the evening he put on various outfits to go with the kind of music he was playing. I think he donned this thing through Buster Poindexter's "Hot Hot Hot." He got a conga line going, handed out moroccas and outfitted several partygoers, including Uncle Johnny and Auntie Mary with hats identical to the one he is pictured wearing. The whole party was really, really high-energy and fun!

Perhaps I am just partial to the DJ because he proposed marriage to me right there at the reception. He also promised free DJ services if I agreed to go through with the marriage. He had his partner, the photographer, approach me and ask if I was interested in him. The line fed to me through the photographer was (and the photographer was very determined to let me know that he was simply the messenger), "If you marry me, the DJ's free." At first I thought they were simply handing out business cards to everybody, but I quickly realized that I was the sole object of his affections. Oh, lucky me!

Ha ha!

Anyway, seriously, it was a fantastic weekend. The wedding was beautiful. The party was kick-ass. It was awesome to get out of town for a few days. And, most importantly, it was great to be reunited with family members that I hadn't seen in ages!