The Pipes, the Pipes!
So it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Granted I
thought it would totally suck so I'm not sure how much
that is saying. Actually, a lot of it was pretty damn funny.
I have to warn you that this post will be a bit of a ramble.
Things got off to a great start when I left Friday morning.
I ended up having to call a cab because, as everyone knows,
I can't get anywhere on time on my own. Turns out I got the
only cabbie in Boston who couldn't find his way out of a paper
bag. He didn't know where the bus station was and as a
result I ended up missing my bus, which left at 10:00, a nice
5 minutes before I got there. I had to take the next bus which
got me into Burlington at 7, exactly when the rehearsal dinner
was set to begin an hour away. No pork tenderloin for me.
I walked from the bus station to Kate's brother's place.
I was somewhat nervous since I haven't really spent any
time with him but I have to say that it was great. He and
his girlfriend were very nice. I spent the evening with them
watching the Sox, having some Sams, and having more
conversation than I have had with my own brother in the past
10 years. Pretty good evening.
Kate arrived around 12 and we shared a very comfortable
bunk bed. It was like being at summer camp, we were
cracking up and giggling for hours. Yes - I giggle.
The next day my parents drove down from the B&B where
they were staying. It was so good to see them! My Mom
was really happy to see me. I think she was glad to have
some more support. It was the first time either of them
had ever really met Kate as well which was nice. It is weird
sometimes that my folks don't know any of the people that
are an important part of my life.
We got to the B&B and there out in front was my illustrious
brother. We had gotten some dirt from the dinner the night
before so I knew from the ponytail on the man he was talking
to that we were in the presence of Bill the crocodile hunter from
New Jersey.
My folks parked the car and Kate and I went over to say hi to
Tim. I went to hug him and I swear to god it's like hugging Al
Gore. I said hi and introduced him to Kate after which he mumbled
something, it might have been hello, it might have been Swahili.
We will never know. He ran off to get ready because the wedding
was to start in about an hour.
Kate and I got ready and rode with my parents another fifteen
minutes north to where the wedding was being held. It was
a shrine to Saint Anne and right when we got there it started
pouring. The shrine is made up of a glorified picnic shelter
and a small building that encloses an altar. That's it. (As an
aside it should be mentioned that it is an old fort that is the first
"white settlement in Vermont” how Klassy is that?)
The wedding began when my brother, in full Scottish garb, arrived
with his best man and groomsmen which surprised me since he
wasn't supposed to have one. All of them were kilted. To add to the
Scottish feel, standing at the front of the shelter was the bagpiper.
The bride arrived in a limo with her peeps and the bagpipes, um,
started. Nothing says happy wedding like the sounds of a bleating
goat in the pouring down rain in a picnic shelter on the border of
Canada. I'll see what I can do about posting a map since I'm sure
this will send folks scrambling to go there.
The ceremony was a comedy of errors. To start with there was the
rain which wouldn't have been a problem except for the wall-less
nature of picnic shelters. The priest that was going to perform the
ceremony, Fr. Paco from New Jersey, missed his plane due to a
security event so instead the 290752752735097235 year old priest
stationed at the shrine, perhaps since the founding of the "first white
settlement", had to step in. I honestly thought the poor man was
going to die in the middle of the vows. He sounded like breathing
was something that didn't come so easy to him and he couldn't really
remember who he was marrying. They had communion and the
whole deal. Kate and I were so hungry we almost went up but
instead we huddled in the shelter to keep warm. I think I have a new
location and event for the next Survivor. Picture it, Survivor Saint
Anne, one shelter and only Communios for the two families to fight
over. The ratings would be huge.
When the ceremony ended the photos began. My first interaction with
my new sister-in-law was when I went to take a photo of her and my
brother. She informed me and others attempting to get pictures of
our own that we needed to not take them because the flash would
destroy their photos. I always thought the intense fireball of a flash
on my disposable camera was bright but I guess I never really grasped
its true power. They took the usual family photos and Lisa (the bride)
called for "Tim's brother" to get in the photo, she clearly did not
know my name. Then they had a discussion on the nature of Kate and
my relationship. She wanted "Kate, the girlfriend" to get in the photo
at which point Kate turned white and kind of tried to back away. I
don't blame her, I would have run for my life.
To be continued in "Look at the floor, look at the floor!"
aka "Nothing like vodka in a hammock"
thought it would totally suck so I'm not sure how much
that is saying. Actually, a lot of it was pretty damn funny.
I have to warn you that this post will be a bit of a ramble.
Things got off to a great start when I left Friday morning.
I ended up having to call a cab because, as everyone knows,
I can't get anywhere on time on my own. Turns out I got the
only cabbie in Boston who couldn't find his way out of a paper
bag. He didn't know where the bus station was and as a
result I ended up missing my bus, which left at 10:00, a nice
5 minutes before I got there. I had to take the next bus which
got me into Burlington at 7, exactly when the rehearsal dinner
was set to begin an hour away. No pork tenderloin for me.
I walked from the bus station to Kate's brother's place.
I was somewhat nervous since I haven't really spent any
time with him but I have to say that it was great. He and
his girlfriend were very nice. I spent the evening with them
watching the Sox, having some Sams, and having more
conversation than I have had with my own brother in the past
10 years. Pretty good evening.
Kate arrived around 12 and we shared a very comfortable
bunk bed. It was like being at summer camp, we were
cracking up and giggling for hours. Yes - I giggle.
The next day my parents drove down from the B&B where
they were staying. It was so good to see them! My Mom
was really happy to see me. I think she was glad to have
some more support. It was the first time either of them
had ever really met Kate as well which was nice. It is weird
sometimes that my folks don't know any of the people that
are an important part of my life.
We got to the B&B and there out in front was my illustrious
brother. We had gotten some dirt from the dinner the night
before so I knew from the ponytail on the man he was talking
to that we were in the presence of Bill the crocodile hunter from
New Jersey.
My folks parked the car and Kate and I went over to say hi to
Tim. I went to hug him and I swear to god it's like hugging Al
Gore. I said hi and introduced him to Kate after which he mumbled
something, it might have been hello, it might have been Swahili.
We will never know. He ran off to get ready because the wedding
was to start in about an hour.
Kate and I got ready and rode with my parents another fifteen
minutes north to where the wedding was being held. It was
a shrine to Saint Anne and right when we got there it started
pouring. The shrine is made up of a glorified picnic shelter
and a small building that encloses an altar. That's it. (As an
aside it should be mentioned that it is an old fort that is the first
"white settlement in Vermont” how Klassy is that?)
The wedding began when my brother, in full Scottish garb, arrived
with his best man and groomsmen which surprised me since he
wasn't supposed to have one. All of them were kilted. To add to the
Scottish feel, standing at the front of the shelter was the bagpiper.
The bride arrived in a limo with her peeps and the bagpipes, um,
started. Nothing says happy wedding like the sounds of a bleating
goat in the pouring down rain in a picnic shelter on the border of
Canada. I'll see what I can do about posting a map since I'm sure
this will send folks scrambling to go there.
The ceremony was a comedy of errors. To start with there was the
rain which wouldn't have been a problem except for the wall-less
nature of picnic shelters. The priest that was going to perform the
ceremony, Fr. Paco from New Jersey, missed his plane due to a
security event so instead the 290752752735097235 year old priest
stationed at the shrine, perhaps since the founding of the "first white
settlement", had to step in. I honestly thought the poor man was
going to die in the middle of the vows. He sounded like breathing
was something that didn't come so easy to him and he couldn't really
remember who he was marrying. They had communion and the
whole deal. Kate and I were so hungry we almost went up but
instead we huddled in the shelter to keep warm. I think I have a new
location and event for the next Survivor. Picture it, Survivor Saint
Anne, one shelter and only Communios for the two families to fight
over. The ratings would be huge.
When the ceremony ended the photos began. My first interaction with
my new sister-in-law was when I went to take a photo of her and my
brother. She informed me and others attempting to get pictures of
our own that we needed to not take them because the flash would
destroy their photos. I always thought the intense fireball of a flash
on my disposable camera was bright but I guess I never really grasped
its true power. They took the usual family photos and Lisa (the bride)
called for "Tim's brother" to get in the photo, she clearly did not
know my name. Then they had a discussion on the nature of Kate and
my relationship. She wanted "Kate, the girlfriend" to get in the photo
at which point Kate turned white and kind of tried to back away. I
don't blame her, I would have run for my life.
To be continued in "Look at the floor, look at the floor!"
aka "Nothing like vodka in a hammock"
posted by Jerry at 9:26 PM
3 Comments:
Dear Tim's Brother,
I have been waiting all week for an account of the Scottish picnic shelter story. Please do continue...
Dear Captain Sodium,
This is a note from Kate's brother's girlfriend (no need to know my name). I beg to differ with your rather harsh treatment of Northern Vermont. With proper insulation, and a large supply of firewood, many people every year survive life near the border of Canada. Of course, the hooch helps, as do all the opportunities for intimate fraternizing with first cousins, etc. Only last week, Fred bought fleece-lined nut warmers, a specialty in our maple-syrup-selling general stores. Please come back in February, when conditions up here are REALLY fun . . . We'll have clean sheets on the bunk bed. I want to hear more about the wedding!!! And, if I may say so, your brother doesn't deserve you.
Man, I wish I could have been there for all the Celtic Crap to make snide comments on the sidelines. Not that you and your "GF" need help with that!
I'm glad you survived....but now I can't wait for part 2 of the story!
PS: In a bathroom at a restaurant here, they had a machine for "captain condom". a long lost brother, perhaps?
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