My Best Friend’s Wedding

One day about two years ago Ben and I were walking through Washington Square Park and he told me that he was going to marry Joanna. This was wonderful news to me since I liked his girlfriend very much. But it was even better news to me because Ben is six months older than I and this means I get to see what I’ll be doing in six months. This is great for things like getting your license and learning how to take a girl’s bra off, but kinda lame for things that have absolute dates like the SATs—then Ben just has six months on me.

Ben is a really fun friend to do anything with because we both come from the Dad School of Planning. We stick to the schedule and provide you with slightly less information that you need to come along since we’ve taken care of everything. We are both the kind of guy that would ask you, please, to save your questions for the end.

Ben called me the night before the rehearsal dinner and asked if I wanted to ride with him and the bride to Philadelphia. I said, “I do.” He said, “Good, we can use the help.” I was really glad to do this. I come from a big family, so when I’m not being helpful with something I feel kind of worthless. If you have me over for dinner I will do all of the dishes in your sink (whether they were involved or not) and I honestly thing that people who don’t do this automatically were probably raised by wolves.

I went to bed at 4AM and Ben called me at 8. I brushed my teeth and caught the G train to Ben and Joanna’s house.

Their apartment looked like someone had detonated a wedding bomb. On the wall I saw the famous “Ben and Joanna Summer Olympics Score Board” which is a chalk board where every summer they keep track of who won each game of bowling or minigolf, etc. Last year Ben one by one point in white-knuckled tie breaker. Joanna gave him a plaque for winning.

This year I noticed the board was surprisingly scant. A few games of mini golf here and there. Last years gone-but-not-forgotten glory days lingered on in the ghoulish outline of erased chalk.

They were doing a number of things in the wedding themselves, so there were sashes for the reception tables and flowers that weren’t yet bouquets or centerpieces still waiting in their boxes.

Brendan Sullivan to Ben

show details Jun 20

Which Kindle does Jo want?

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Ben is not available to chat

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Ben to me

show details Jun 20

The new one--why, are you loaded now?

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Ben has better things to do than chat

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Brendan Sullivan to Ben

show details Jun 20

The best man has to buy the best present. Also, yeah right like I'm going to visit you in Belize and be like, "So where's that serving dish you neededso fucking badly last summer?"

We agreed instead that I should skip the gift entirely and just throw him a really fun bachelor party. But as we loaded the car he said, "I'm so excited for you to open your best man gift. I won't tell you what it is but it's something that neither of us know what it is but both of us are going to love."

Seriously, the man is getting married this weekend and he's ear-to-ear grinning about a gift he bought for his best man. Ben is so fucking awesome.

We drove down in a miracle of traffic and had that fun road trip that you can only have with good friends that you’ve had for many years when you’re all going to the same place with a great purpose.

The wedding was actually across the river from Philadelphia in Camded, NJ which meant that we had to pick up the marriage license in New Jersey. We went straight from the hotel to a sushi restaurant up the street called Raw.

Julia and I decided to share a room for the wedding so that we could save some money and a few other people caught the fever as well including one of the bridesmaids and her date. We had five people in there on the last night.

One of the things that I have kept with me from being in a touring act for so long is I can travel anywhere at any hour and sleep anywhere comfortably. I can sleep in any light with anything as a blanket and noise level doesn’t bother me. When we were on tour in LA we went to see our friends’ band Semi Precious Weapons play and I took a nap in a booth in the rockclub. This is probably easy for me because I drink a quart of liquor a day, but I still think that people who get cranky about sleeping situations obviously suffer from being an only child raised by wolves.

The hotel was fucking gorgeous. It was the old Philadelphia Savings Fund Society building, a skyscraper bank that was recently renovated flawlessly by a crew of people who obviously then turned around and designed all the scenery in Mad Men. The numbers on the walls were the same font and brushed silver as the names on the doors at Sterling Cooper.

In the lobby I got a Siempre Azul tequila on the rocks in my three-piece suit and waited for everyone to amass for the rehearsal. Doing anything in a big group is always difficult, but the groomsmen were the entire cast of Olde English. I’ve known and worked with them for many years and I know how sometimes you feel like you’re herding cats.

Everyone was late for various reasons, the best one was that the bus that Dave went on was behind a truck that got stuck in the Holland Tunnel. Since I also come from the Dad School of Planning I waited a passable amount of time for everyone in the lobby and then planned exactly how long it would take in traffic to show up exactly on time and decided to just leave with whoever made it on time. Caleb came down one minute too late and had to take his own cab to Jersey.

Rehearsals seem ridiculous enough but they are very informative, especially since we were having a non traditional wedding in the theater of a 40 foot shark tank. Instead of reading the Psalms or First Corinthians or some crappy love poem Ben decided that he would have his writing partner get ordained online, officiate the ceremony and then in lieu of readings the maid of honor and the best man would give speeches.

At my brother’s wedding no one planned this part and so the justice of the peace read a poem that was clearly trimmed and laminated out of a bullshit valentine’s day card. I wanted to interrupt, “Pardon me sir but—I don’t know if you’ve been told—but I am a confirmed English Major, recent graduate, so if you don’t mind…”

When Leigh and I broke up Ben said, “This is great! You will save me so much money if you bring Julia—oh! then I won’t have to pay for dates!” When my invitation came in the mail I RSVP’d and had to give the name of my guest I wrote “Alexis Popik” which is Ben’s mom’s name.

This would be a joke I would later regret since it meant that the Dad School of Planning stuck to the plan and Julia got left out of all the wedding party fun, including the rehearsal dinner. Oops. The nice think about Dad School of Planning is you don’t have to hint around at anything because you can always expect a direct answer. I asked if Julia was my date to the rehearsal and he said, “Yes. Wait, no. We are already three overbooked on dinner. No. There is no room at the restaurant.” And that was that.

The second joke that didn’t go well is at the dinner I was in charge of putting down the name-tents. When I saw that Ben’s brother, Nat, and I were at the same table I switched seats so I could sit next to him. I hadn’t seen him in years and I had a big smile, “I switched with some girl so I could sit next to you!”

“Oh, so that’s why my date is on the opposite end of the table.” I felt really bad. Poor girl came all the way from Vermont and her boyfriend’s brother’s constantly-drunk friend had marooned her in the corner. I tried to switch and then everyone told me I was making too big a deal of it. My thinking was that if we switched back seats or if everyone just moved down one seat we would all still get to have free dinner and the outcome of tomorrow’s ceremony would likely be the same.

When we were kids we got Nat into rock climbing and he has yet to get out of it. He even moved to Vermont so he could be out doors more. Ben and I are both far too out of shape for something like that now.

I switched seats with the girl after dinner and this gave me the corner seat of the room and I got to look out on these great people. Some of them I hadn’t seen since Nat’s barmitzvah ten years before. Ben and Jo got up and gave a speech. Ben told the story of making prank phone calls in the bachelor party van (we called Triscuits and Pete convinced them that he had bought a box and discovered that instead of triscuits it was filled with smooth, creamy peanut butter.”)

After their speech everyone was smiling and happy but sort of inert. I was moved by a flood of tequila to say a few words.

“Everyone I just want to say, when I was 14 I-I didn’t have any friends. And then one day I went to school and there was this new kid from California named Ben. Everyone asked him two questions: do you surf? Do you know any celebrities? And it was pretty lucky for me that he didn’t because he became my friend and my best friend. I was a very lucky kid to have an extra set of parents around too and Alexis and Bill always treated me like family and encouraged my writing. Ben, having you in my life has changed it for the better and having you around is always great. Joanna, you are due for a great life together and I can’t wait to hear about your new life together.”

I went to the hotel bar to meet up with Julia and to finish the rest of the Siempre Azul Tequilla. The bartender was a plump, busy girl named Toni and she only charged me for one drink the entire night.

Julia took me and Kevin out to her favorite dive bar in Philadelphia and I made it through two of them. My glorious four hours of sleep were catching up with me, as were the fifteen drinks I’d had that day.

Another thing about the Dad School of Planning is that the event you’ve already thought through a thousand times is not stressful. It unfolds one way or another and at best you’re surprised and at worse you get the satisfaction of having already envisioned any catastrophe. This mean that day-of Ben was calm and pleased and very happy. All the work was done and this was something we were doing for a reason. A good reason.

“I have to write my vows. I don’t know why I decided to write my own vows.”

“That’s awful. It’s hard enough just to repeat after someone else.”

“I feel like my vows are extraneous. It’s like I should say, ‘I vow to be married to you in five minutes.’”

“What do you need vows for anyway? It’s like, shouldn’t you just say ‘After months of planning and getting all of our friends and family down here I’m positive I want to marry you.’”

“Seriously. Plus I’m going to have to yell it in my fiancé’s face so my gramma can hear.”

I woke up around 10:30 and headed off to do my writing. I ran into Ben in the elevator about 5 seconds after waking up and his first words to me were, “You look ‘marvelous.’” By which he meant “god awful.”

Normally I feel like partying wears well on me but then it’s probably one of those things like having bad breath where everyone can tell but you. I worked a lot last week and slept very little and last night I shared a hotel room with strangers.

I went to take a walk and get a coffee and try and write something marvelous. I always write first thing in the morning, before I'm awake enough to be aware of how bad most of my stuff is. I like to take my dream state and press it in a book. This devotion to my work, this steadfast discipline I have is what makes me the worst boyfriend on the planet. ("Goodmorning!" "Shut up, I'm punctuating.")

My iPhone didn't know of any charming little coffeeshops in center city, so I took a walk in a strange place which is my favorite thing to do any way. Two of the coffeeshops on my phone were closed and boarded up, the other five were Starbucks. Eventually I saw a sign that mentioned something remotely about coffee, it was one of those cafes that you would build if you've never been to Paris but you really like reading about it in Hemingway. The wicker chairs and the marble tabletops all arrayed facing out on the street. It wasn't open yet but the nice guy who was cleaning the counters said I could have coffee.

Whenever I travel I find myself looking at service workers. Sometimes it's like I'm undercover (do they know I'm one of them?) Restaurant workers, especially restaurant workers of a restaurant that strives to be a certain kind of restaurant, are all quite the type. First of all the uniform at these places is just "black." These jobs and workers are far too impermanent to even waste matching outfits on. The guys all wear pretty much exactly what I wear to work (whatever was black at American Apparel the week they got hired) and the girls wear the same dresses from Forever 21 that my girls wear. There is always also the faint whiff in the air of the excitement that comes from knowing that half the staff is probably sleeping together.

Restaurant workers are a lot like me: aimless, interested in lots of things. But the one problem we all have is we are overworked at our bars and we work very hard to get a small pile of money, and then the first thing we do when we get out of work is take that pile and give it to another bar.

I ordered and got down to work. I'm almost done with the YA novel and it's not very easy. A lot of intricate plotwork set pieces are happening all at once. When I plan out a novel I think of there being 24 different things that are going to happen. Only the end is about eight of these things happening together. But today when I sat down I just wasn't ready for the big scene to happen. Not only is it my best friend's wedding, but I was in lousy, ragged shape and easily distracted by a strange city. You can always rewrite, but I just wanted this to be perfect.

I sat there and thought about the pacing of the book. A lot of things had happened to all of the kids on the backpacking trip, did the reader who went through all that deserve to be hurled into the ending? Then I did something that I've actually found myself doing in several other novels. I took one moment when we've met the entire cast and where the main character is about to do something, step outside of his comfort zone, grow up, if only for a second. And I had a nice old dude come out of no where and sit with him, just share that moment with each other.

I then looked up at the special board and realized that the bartenders here had devised a way to make a margarita that I hadn't thought of yet (St. Germaine liquer). Such ingenuity must be rewarded, I thought, so I ordered a margarita. When I think of the kind of margarita I want when I want a margarita it is always on the rocks in a sweaty glass and the salt it dripping down the side like tears of joy. I like to chew on the ice on hot days and keep the glass in my hand to cool off. This margarita, however, came in a martini glass that might have a very profitable career as a birdbath.

It’s easy when you’re hiking to fall into a rhythm. Trees are awesome and all, but how many of them can you see before you tune out? I like it out here—death-bent campers aside—and I even like how easy it is to forget where you are or what you’re doing. You can hike miles and miles and nothing but a trail marker can tell you how long that was. A whole day has gone by and you’re happy to have missed it. But then again that’s a part of your life that disappeared while you were lost in scenes from movies you like and how much you’d miss the luxury of iced water.

I don't really like to drink when I write because it's way too awesome and way too easy. The sound of the keys clicking is intoxicating enough as it is. When you're drunk writing the keys are like that cigarette you have as a nonsmoker that puts you over the edge and activates everything you had to drink that day.

At the Groomsmen's Brunch, Ben had a big smile on his face and a big bag of presents. The waiter came over to take our drink order. Everyone was silent, not knowing who should go first, etc. A large contingent of the wedding party was clearly on a very strict budget (at the bachelor party I asked everyone for $100 for the van, food, booze and in-home cabaret and the morning after when we suggested all going out to breakfast I was asked, "Is breakfast included in the $100?" When we returned and I checked me email on my phone before I even got back to my house there was an email from one of them asking how much money was left over and when we might divide it up. I didn't have the heart to tell him how much money went into the party. I guess this goes along with the rest of my life's philosophy: "I'm never going to have another friend like Ben and I don't ever want him to marry anyone else. Let's make this one stick and have fun doing it!"

"I'll have a water," one of them said.

"I'll have a bloody mary with tequila," I said.

Ben--in what was a total Ben line--said, "Well there's the range of drinks."

We then moved on to gifts. Another great thing about Ben is his capacity for greatness in this department. If Ben weren't such an awesome guy I think he would have gotten us all the same keychain or given us all iPhone cases. Usually I can tell that someone is not really that close of a friend of mine when they give me some kind of Scotch (which I detest) which is basically like saying, "Here, you're a drunk, right?"

One time on his myriad visits to Jo's family her younger brother mentioned something about how cool it would be actually own "The Clapper." He got him one and a DVD of a show that he liked but hasn't seen enough of 'It's . Dave once said he "never got into 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia' so he got him the three seasons of it. Chioke was on his iPhone with Ben one day and said he couldn't hear Ben because his speaker was half broken and he needs to plug in his headphones to hear anything but he lost his good headphones. So Ben went out and bought him that pair of headphones that look like they were designed for safe-crackers. I have no idea what anyone else got because when I opened my gift it erased my mind.

"YougotmeaKaosillator." I had only read about this because I am no in the habit of getting way over my head with things. Writing pop music is difficult enough for me. But once I had it in my hands I knew that this was a machine built for me. It's basically Gameboy for DJs.

"I went down to B&H and went to the pro audio guy and said, 'My best man is a DJ and he already has all the equipment. What do you buy for a DJ.' And he was immediately like, 'Kaosillator.'"

If you can count to eight and have two fingers: you can make a hit dance song on a Kaosillator.

The batteries were included and we had to pass this gorgeous piece of machinery around. Chioke plugged his new headphones into it and within five second he just said, "That is the coolest piece of equipment I've ever used."

"CanItryitout? CanIborrowyourheadphones?"

"No. We'll never get them off you."

After the brunch I took the Kaosillator for a walk. I went down to my old Philadelphia, which I actually remember more from reading about it in a Brendan Sullivan novel than I do from living there that summer. I went down to South St. and remembered the days when we marched through the streets, through West Philly. I remembered the days when I was a human rights activist and cared about shit. Poor Mumia. 9/11 really sucked up all of the liberal guilt you had once monopolized.

We deplored the gentrification of the neighborhood, we rallied around the record selection at Wooden Shoe, the anarchist bookstore. We wrote 'Zines. And now I'm the crusty old guy, terrified of teenagers on skateboards and laughing at the Hot Topic punks. Was I ever that young?

You know when you see someone in sunglasses, rocking out to their iPod and you wonder if the sunglasses are blinders? That was me and the Kaosillator. I wrote five hit songs on the way there and danced to one on the way back (I hope I'm describing this right. There is a mode where wherever you press you get two notes which we would all describe as "OONTZ OONTZ." You don't even have to come up with your own high-hat.)

I walked out of Wooden Shoe without buying anything and then I had that common modern-guilt. I walked by the $2 table and saw a comic book that I might like, so I bought the whole series. What I love about Philadelphia is that it's like a shyer version of New York. Here is an anarchist book collective that is still running as both a bookstore and a record store, miraculous in this day and age: and you're fucking charging me sales tax? DAMN THE MAN!! Or, like, INCLUDE IT IN YOUR PRICES!

On the way out I spotted the new issue of Cometbus 'Zine. I can't fucking believe they still publish Cometbus. This was a 'Zine you could only get at the better hardcore shows. I remember once reading an article that was a hilarious review of breakfast cereals ("...I would like captain crunch more if it didn't tear the shit out of my gums.") And I remember thinking, "So you just write down the thing that everyone thinks always about something and you're a writer? Shit, I can do that."

I Kaosillated my way home. Just to give you an idea of how much I loved this present: every time I mention the word Kaosillator in this post I lose an hour playing with it. The Kaosillator.

One thing I've noticed about myself--and I don't know if this is a flaw or a quirk--is that I love to explore places on my own. I love taking walks and drinking coffee somewhere and reading books. I am very happy that we crowded into the same hotel room and I'm glad I didn't bring a real date because I would have been grumpy for not getting to take a walk and get lost in Philadelphia.

Sometimes I don't think this will change because the older I get the more ability I have to explore. Now that I'm rich I get to do things like get a monthlong Jet Blue Pass or DJ in San Francisco. And each trip makes me just as happy as I was as a kid when I would hop the back fence and go play in the woods at the end of our street. There was a stream and it was fucking awesome and no grownups ever went down there. I just like stuff. I like new things. I like revisiting things I used to do and see. It's probably the syndrome that prevents me from holding a girlfriend--or getting over one.

For the wedding I had rented a suit. I know I have a whole column on the internet about how fucking fabulous and put together I am all the time: but I couldn't afford to buy a suit for this wedding. Ben decided that instead of tuxedos we would all just get a navy suit. This was a terrible thing for me because I own two tuxedos. Dave found a place where you can rent a suit for $140. I knew I could maybe find one somewhere for $200 either vintage or TJ Maxx or something. But I'm busy.

I also constantly try and remind myself that I'm not the star every day. It would be kind of dickish to call in some fashion favors and have the celebrity dresser from D&G pull some things for me for my best friend's wedding. There are times when you just need to be nameless and ready to please and in uniform--clocked in and ready to go: that's what I've learned from my life in the service industry.

So Dave found this place to rent his suit and I went to the same place. Unfortunately there was some kind of mix-up and I ended up getting the suit that was intended for some Milwaukee Savings and Loan officer's business meeting that night. Poor guy's luggage didn't make it to JFK and he has a meeting with the board in a slim cut double-vent suit with a single break in the trim legs. I instead went to my best friend's wedding looking like someone from the 90's cartoon version of Batman. My suit had more perfect right angles than St. Paul's church.

I had on the equivalent of an ugly bridesmaids' dress. Which is fine. This is, after all, my best friend's wedding.

SHOWTIME!

We met in front of the hotel at 4:30 sharp. This was just enough time to get to the bar in the hotel when Toni was starting her shift. "Hi, Brendan!" I'm already a regular. I ordered a tequila and she reminded me that I had finished that bottle last night. Yes, well.

The party was there and the bride and groom were together, which was untraditional but we were planning on going via bus to the ferry to New Jersey, which is actually closer than any of us in Brooklyn live to Chinatown. I was ready for showtime and I was ready to just let it happen, but there was a strict in/out time for the aquarium and we had to get this party going because all the old people were going to meet us there in cars.

Ben made the executive decision to have us all just take a cab to the ferry landing (it leaves on the hour in about five minutes or an hour and five minutes from now). We all did. Everyone agreed that I should ride with the bride and groom. At the last second I switched. This is one of those fun last-minute moments that Ben loves to add into his stories. I pulled the photographer and put him in the front seat of their cab. For the rest of their lives together they're going to have about sixty pictures of them laughing in the back of a Philadelphia cab as we race the wire.

On the way to the Ferry we ran into one of those problems that our type have when we travel. All five cabs said, "Take us to the ferry landing!"

And all five cab drivers said, "Where's that?"

And all sixteen of us said, "Fuck!"

We didn't know. iPhones didn't even know. I eventually called a ferry company in New Jersey and asked them where they thought the ferry might be. If we're not on that Ferry at 5 we will miss our own wedding!

Eventually one of us finds the place and we all run the meter trying to chase him down. I catch up to the groom, whom I hope isn't freaking out. He says, "On the plus side: we just taught five cab drivers in Philadelphia where their ferry landing is!"

Half the party is on the Ferry entrance under a sign that says "All Ferry's Leave on the hour SHARP." The groomsmen are running. The bridesmaids are doing olympic maneuvers in heals. We are going to make that ferry!

Ben hands the ticket guy fifteen tickets and we all make it on board. Even the wedding photographer! When we pulled this off I said, "Man I hope the bar's open on the boat."

And Dave looked at me and said, "Okay, so at what point in your day are you not drinking?"

One of the things I've learned about myself this year is that I am a person who cries at weddings.

I think this is completely awesome. Crying at weddings is like throwing up when you feel sick: you take how you feel on the inside and prove it.

In fact, I don't think I'd be comfortable attending a wedding where I didn't cry when I see the first moment where the bride and groom make eye contact. How wonderful. How amazing it is to plan a huge party with all of your friends and your closest family and then be caught in the moment--that mirror where you both are thinking how much you love the person that made all this possible for you. I love love! If I had to go to a wedding where I didn't feel like this I would RSVP "Send me the registry, regrets." Why would you want to be in a room with a nonbelievers on your wedding day?

I had forgotten this part, but the minister for the even was Chioke and long ago when I moved Ben and Joanna into their apartment they mentioned that they found it because a friend of theirs lived there with his fiance until they broke up. Turns out it was Chioke, one of my newest and dearest friends! Chioke, at the request of the couple, got ordained on the internet so that he could marry them. Ben said that if that hadn't worked he would have had my mother marry them. She would have loved that, but this was awesome enough.

There we were at the shark tank in an amazing aquarium. There are all Ben's relative's that I haven't seen since his brother, Nat's, bar mitzvah.

"When they asked me to be the officiant of this ceremony they said it was because I was the most excited to hear about their wedding. And I still am. I don't know if a lot of you know this but Ben and Joanna currently live in what was once my old apartment. (It was much cleaner then!) And on the wall of that apartment is the chalk board I painted there when it was my, cleaner, place. On the wall is something that we all known and love: it is the scoreboard for the well known Ben and Joanna Summer Olympics."

"Which I won this year," says the bride.

"The reason I was so excited to hear they were getting married is that I am always so happy to know that I have these two people in my life. Every time they do anything--whether it's a trip or another thing I see of them on Facebook, I just get so excited. Having two friends who just love each other and love having fun together is just the most wonderful thing some times..."

His speech went on for about ten more minutes and everyone absolutely loved it. (Ben later told me, "I loved Chioke's speech so much that I didn't think you guys could top it. I kind felt bad for you guys having to go on after him.")

The worst part about being the Best Man is that you have the Best Seat. You get to watch the prettiest girl in the room as she looks, tearfully, at the love of her life. It's awful! There's this gorgeous girl in front of you in the greatest dress she'll ever wear and she's crying about some other guy--story of my life!!

"A lot of people don't know this but I am the reason that we are all here today. I took Joanna to a friend's birthday party many years ago to a Karaoke bar where you can do awesome things like sing songs by Journey. I took her there and on that night she took a liking to a guy named Ben, who was with a different comedy group. We stood there singing a Neil Diamond song and the Jo chased Ben out the door when she thought he was there leaving [the actual story is that Jo stole a cigarette from a friend because she thought Ben went out to smoke and she thought this might be her chance to talk to him.]" She gave a great speech and we all cried through all the best parts.

Then it was on me. I didn't want to blow this. "I'm never going to have another friend like Ben and I don't ever want him to marry anyone else. Let's make this one stick and have fun doing it!"

"When I was 14 my only friend moved to New Jersey. I didn't have any friends and no one would tell me what the bands were like. Then one day in the school year this new kid came from school from California. Everyone had two questions for him: Do you Surf? And do you know any celebrities? And, as I said last night, it was lucky for me that Ben didn't know any celebrities. Because it meant he became my best friend. At this point that was over half our lives together and I remember that one of the first things we bonded about was that we both liked the move "Back to the Future" and that's kind of the nice part about having a best friend for so many years is that you can go back to the future. You can tell stories--the way Ben and I love to--and you can bring each other back to the times you forgot--and you can look forward to your future. I also got a great partner in crime and a great extra set of parents with Alexis and Bill. My life is better for knowing all of them and for having an extra little brother out of Nat and a cool older sister from Sarah."

Since I am a guy who cries at weddings I really got caught up in this. Ben isn't just some guy I know from work or someone from nightlife. He's been that friend whom I could talk to no-judgements!--anytime a movie came out. I didn't have to check in with him or meet him at the same place each week. He's just an understanding figure in my life who would always like to catch up and make one-liners about things.

I was starting to cry and I looked at Joanna and she was crying too.

Right then the whole audience started laughing. First there was a build up and then it went off. It was perfect. Just as I was about to lose it the whole congregation forgot I was talking and focused on a lone sea turtle who was the only creature in the window.

The turtle was like a prop. I got to shout, "Hey!! I'm talkin' here!" And all the old people laughed to make up for the inside and young jokes I had made.

"Ben and I were friends together. We were editors of the school newspaper together. We were kicked off of that newspaper together. [Pause for laughter and lots of applause, which made me forget the story of the first day Ben told me he thought he should marry her someday.] And I remember one day Ben and I were walking through Washington Square Park and he was telling me about this new girl he just started dating. He said she said she wouldn't stop dating other dudes until he put a ring on her finger. So Ben saved up--we were young so this must have been all the money he had--and he went out and bought a silver ring for their anniversary and had it engraved: PROPERTY OF BEN POPIK. And I knew that if he met a girl who was into that hilarious joke that Ben had met his match. Chioke said it right when he said how much we all love this couple. There's not a single facebook update between the two of them that doesn't make my day. I only wish there were more. The two of you together just make all of us so happy...Anyway I don't want to go too long but it's a wonderful thing to have a best friend for more than half of your life and I know, Joanna, that Ben is going to make your life wonderful all of the time. I look forward to all of your adventures. Someday I just know I'm going to meet your children and smile at them. And they're going to say, 'So, you went to high school with my dad?' And I'm going to tell them the truth. I'm going to say: ' Your dad and I built a time machine--out of a DeLorean."

I let the room go silent, creepily silent and then I leaned over to the bride and groom for my closer, which I whispered: "Well, uh, I guess you guys aren't ready for that. But your kids are gonna love it."

Ben burst out laughing (BTTF joke!!) and turned around and hugged me. Joanna wiped her waterproof mascara with my pocket square. The turtle returned. I was complete.

They exchanged vows and Ben's were just pefect--not to jokey and not too saccharine. They were so good that I remember Joanna bursting into tears every time she tried to start hers.

Ben was choked up in the most adorable way. All eyes were on her. None of us had thought to bring kleenex. The groomsmen all wore matching ties and pocket squares. Ben wore an off white silk tie and in place of a pocket square he had folded up a prop pocket square our of a piece of white paper for the photos. When his bride-to-be-in-two-minutes started crying he couldn't offer her a folded up brochure about dolphins. The best he could do was take the Best Man's pocket square, which is like trying your tears with a paisley tie.

"I should've gone first!" she sobbed.

Afterwards we all reveled in the wonderment. Our best friends had just gotten married and we were all swollen with pride and happiness for them.

1. Cocktail hour and the speeches and the reception were all powered by the same sound system, which arrived in a spaghetti of wires. Dave was the DJ and it looked like none of the cords would allow the sound system to work. I've had this moment one thousand times at gigs. You're there and everyone is there and there is no music, except for the chorus of dipshits asking, "Yo, where's the music?" Dave ran to find me and I brought my DJ bag (because I'm like an Old West doctor when it comes to parties). The real reason I had my DJ bag is because I packed a non-ugly suit to wear at the reception and if you ever unpack your DJ bag you will regret losing the one cord of adapter you need. I looked at the system and Dave was right. There would be music coming out of one small speaker for the entire party unless...brain must...work, "This is the master speaker, all the others are slave to a chain and the controls for the master sync to the others." I plugged in the sound system just as the families were coming out of picture-time and it was a lovely cocktail hour. I may have wasted the last five years of my life DJ'ing in shithole bars, but I was able to save my best friend's wedding. Win.
2. I was hassled at the cocktail hour bar for not having my ID. Actually, the bartender was hassled for being a gap-toothed fuck who clearly got this job using a fake social security number only months after he "got out" of prison. Thanks for not being understanding one fucking bit about the limits of a rented suit you fucking fuckwad.
3. God Adam made the funniest slideshow. The thing about these boys is they clearly enjoy the limits of genre. Ben and I take probably 30 pictures a day of things on iPhones and with our cameras. So when Adam wheeled out the slide projector I was a little surprised to see that the music was that crappy "minuet in G" that comes with iPhoto and they were using the "Ken Burns" effect. We gave the kid 3000 photos of Ben and Jo and we end up with--ohmygodisthat Obama in the background? Adam had photoshopped Obama into a dozen photos of the couple. So rather than sit through a half hour slide show of the bride and groom, which half of us would have ignored like the piano player at a fancy cocktail party, we were treated to this two minute sketch. Ben and Jo are on the beach, in the background a shirtless Obama squints into the sun. Ben and Jo got snorkeling and Obama is oblivous to them, swimming right in their way. Ben and Jo had a paintfight once and there is Obama with his face splattered. The final photo was a cute picture of the couple and it wasn't until he panned out that you could see the two of them had Obama's reflection in their eyes.
4. I split my pants at the reception. They ripped from zipper all the way to my belt loop. Everytime I dipped down was like a turtle head poking out. I split my pants so bad that at the afterparty someone yanked on one leg and I was only wearing a pant, rather than a pair. These were pants I had earned via DJ'ing for some fancy clothing brand, so at this point my left leg was worth only $900.
5. After the reception when everyone was cleaning up I found a bottle of Champagne at my seat! Awesome! I saved it to pop on the shuttle bus back to the hotel. As I was walking out one of the caterers stopped me, "Where did you get that?" "It was on our table." "Did you take that from the back?" "Excuse me?" "We didn't serve champagne after the toast. Did you steal that from in back? Give that to me." Uh, excuse me. Do you know which man you're talking to? I'm the I Best. "Before you go accusing people of theft, why don't you go and find out where it came from." "Give me that." I felt really bad, the way I would if I had been misbehaving at a friend's house party. Only, I do not misbehave at any party. I was ready to leave and then I tracked her down, "Well?" I didn't even want the damn Champagne anymore, I just don't like giving the impression that I am a leech. "You're right. It is for the bride and groom to open on their anniversary." Gulp. "Of course it is. I am the best man. And I am carrying it to their car for them. They are busy with presents." Saved by the bitch. I would have felt really bad about that.
6. Songs sung in booming unison on the bus ride back: "Bohemian Rhapsody." "We Will Rock You." And Greenday's "Basketcase." I lead the group in a hometown rendition of "Fresh Prince of Bel Air" which was somehow booed? What? I turned around and saw Caleb shaking his head. At the Prince? When we are IN Philadelphia. Fuck yourself, Caleb. I will destroy you for this some day.
7. "Wait here I have a gift for you," I said to Ben's exhausted parents at the end. When I came back from my hotel room I told them a story. "On mother's day in 1998 Bill was very specific about what you wanted for breakfast in bed. It was smoked salmon, bagels, capers, cream cheese and an omelette." "Sounds like Bill picked this out," Alexis giggled. We had no idea what smoked salmon was so we went to the grocery store and bought salmon and they figured we would smoke it somehow. Anyway I assume that it went bad in your refrigerator. Anyway, my sweetheart went back to her reservation in the Pacific Northwest and she asked if I needed anything. So I had her bring you back this." A box of real Indian smoked Salmon.
8. At brunch the next day I put my drink down and went to the buffet. Julia sat down and since she was my date I went and sat on her right so I moved, "That's Raphael's seat." Just then our suitemates sat down on her on her left and I replied, "Raphael can have my seat." Ben came out of the line after and instead of starting a table with his new family he wanted to sit down and visit with all of his friends. He took my old seat. Raphael came out of the buffet and said, "You're in my seat." I'm not about to go eat brunch by myself and the old people. I split my damn pants for this. "Ben's in my seat and you're next to my date, which is uncool." For a bunch of comedians, sometimes these guys don't get when I'm kidding. He walked away. "I feel bad," Julia said. "Why?" "I sat down next to him and now he has to move." I wish that someone had also mentioned that he was leaving the next day to move to California to teach high school and this was his last meal with the comedy group and friends he'd had for years. I may not be the greatest guy, but I'm surely the Best Man.
9. I didn't want to go back to New York City. I was carrying heavy things (although if I hadn't elected myself Guardian of the Official Wedding Champagne this wouldn't've been a problem). Julia's dad gave us a tour of Philadelphia, which was awesome and made me want to dig out my People's History of the United States to go back over it. I walked myself to the Mutter Museum, which is a collection of extremely disgusting things that no one should ever want to see, not even med students. I had fifteen minutes until they closed and surprisingly this was enough time. I like weird things, but this was, like, wax castings of uncircumcised men who had VD, an enlarged colon the size of a medium crocodile, and things I don't want to talk about. They had the original Siamese twins' plaster cast (did you know they were 3/4 Chinese?). They had skeletons of a giant and a midget, which was extra weird for me because I had seen footage of both and a wax statue of one at Ripley's Believe It or Not. It's really weird how skeletons can look like the people they once were.
10. Julia's dad gave me his business card and I called him to ask about a bar he had mentioned to me before, "I actually just walked by it. Are you at the Mutter Museum? I'll wait for you here." This is the same thing I went through with Annie's parents, same thing with the Roaches in Kentucky. You always think that fathers of daughters are going to be overprotective, and they are, but sometimes they just like to hang around and have a beer with you. This is great. I always want to hang around and have a beer. The bartender's name was Patty and her mother had owned the bar before her. She remembers Julia's dad bringing her in when she was just a wee one and then coming into the kitchen to help her cook when she was only four. Adorable. I reluctantly got on the Chinatown bus and started writing this piece there. 8, 489 words. I could write more.

It is making it hard to tell people I care about that I care about
anyone else.

I'm very sorry if anyone was foreclosed upon.