So, the Girl was a flower girl for the first time on Saturday. But you already knew that. Because I was going to be at a wedding, and there were not going to be a ton of people that I actually knew there, since the wedding was for one of the teachers at the Girl’s school, I figured I’d have a few drinks, which might enable me to dance with Christy through the evening. Well, with the game on and the girls out to get hair done and what not, and Sonny on the phone telling me to “have a few drinks for me,” I knew I needed to start early.
we arrived and got the girl handed off to the bridesmaids fr preparations. Christy, the Boy, and myself wanderd over to the clubhouse and ordered up. The Boy had an Arnold Palmer, which still only I can say (ask him, seriously) and Christy and I each ordered some girly drink that I figured would cost about $12.50 apiece. Luckily, they were only $6, so I ordered a beer after I slammed that thing. Sonny, you were taken care of early, my friend. Then was the ceremony.
Afterward, we all cruised over to the reception, which was right there, and found our seats. As we searched the grounds, we realized the the only people we really knew were from the Girl’s school, sso we tried to sit with them. But at the one table tere were not enough seats, so we moved to the next, which already had three people sitting there. They were young, frineds of somebody that was getting married, and one of them was vaguely familiar. But I had no idea why, so I blew it off. As we talked a tiny bit, I told them that my daughter was the bad-ass flower girl, and they all were impressed. In fact, the familiar one told me how she had been the bride’s roommate and had heard so much about the Girl. Cool, I’m in with young chicks now.
Then I heard her name. Christy was there, and two of them got up and left the table. I asked her if she had heard the girl’s name as well, and she told me she had. It was what I heard. I knew this girl. When she returned, Christy asked her where she was from. She replied that she was from ELKO, BABY! and right then it hit her. We had been nextdoor neighbors for the entire time I lived in Elko. She was a few years younger than me, but we had known each other slightly. Right when Christy asked, she immediately knew who I was. We both acted sufficiently flabbergasted, then she and (I now knew) her brother said they’d be right back.
I was pretty excited to talk to them. There were a few stories that we’d all appreciate, like when their dad was the Boy’s substitute teacer in first grade, and how my mom had run into their parents at a Wolf Pack football game, and such. Plus, how the hell was she the bride’s roommate without anyone figuring this whole thing out? But we may never know how those stories turned out. They never returned. The third guy, a “federal employee” who worls for Senator Harry Reid and knows “the intern” at my station, called them and was informed that they had another function to attend, so they were gone. The last words they spoke at the wedding, to the best of my knowledge, were “we’ll be right back and we’ll all talk.” Of course, the real last words were probably something like, “some crazy fucker is claiming to be our former nextdoor neighbor and we have to get the hell out of here.”