Puddlejumping
I am very pleased. I stepped out for a sec to take some photos to be developed from this weekend's wedding (more on that later) and got caught in the most brilliant thunderstorm. I got soaked anyway, so I decided to sploosh around in the 3-inch puddles. Good stuff. PhDs aren't sposed to do things like that.
So this weekend was my friend L's wedding. It was in one of those meccas of tack that dot the midwest, a sort of tumor of kitsch, fudge shops, all-you-can-eat theme restaurants (we had to choose between Paul Bunyan's and Black Bart's), etc. that grew up around a bit of the Wisconsin River of breathtaking natural beauty. Kitsch plus nature equals big big fun. The wedding was on a boat on the river, and was very nice. There are, or have been, some doubts about the marriage among the groom's side for various reasons, but there's no denying that he's happy and in love, so mazel tov, I sez. There was a dinner cruise that was no less gorgeous for being interrupted by thunderstorms, and there was contingency hotel bar drinking late into the night. After which the tourist trap town provided my friend J and I an opportunity to drink at a bar called--I shit you not--"Nig's."
We felt a bit conspicuous at the wedding, and I admit that we did pull focus away from the bride a bit. J was in a smoker of a scarlet dress, and she's six feet tall. I, for my part, was dressed like Johnny Cash. Red and black. We felt like we were representing evil. "Best wishes on your big day from Moloch, Breeder of Blasphemies." But then, there were two teenage rodeo cowboys chatting about how they would kill the various wild animals on the riverbank, and a guy in a confederate flag baseball cap and a "100% Redneck" T-shirt. At a wedding. So we weren't the only things to look at.
It was a hell of a time. Good luck, groom boy. I'm going to go fight my cynicism about marriage by jumping in more puddles.
So this weekend was my friend L's wedding. It was in one of those meccas of tack that dot the midwest, a sort of tumor of kitsch, fudge shops, all-you-can-eat theme restaurants (we had to choose between Paul Bunyan's and Black Bart's), etc. that grew up around a bit of the Wisconsin River of breathtaking natural beauty. Kitsch plus nature equals big big fun. The wedding was on a boat on the river, and was very nice. There are, or have been, some doubts about the marriage among the groom's side for various reasons, but there's no denying that he's happy and in love, so mazel tov, I sez. There was a dinner cruise that was no less gorgeous for being interrupted by thunderstorms, and there was contingency hotel bar drinking late into the night. After which the tourist trap town provided my friend J and I an opportunity to drink at a bar called--I shit you not--"Nig's."
We felt a bit conspicuous at the wedding, and I admit that we did pull focus away from the bride a bit. J was in a smoker of a scarlet dress, and she's six feet tall. I, for my part, was dressed like Johnny Cash. Red and black. We felt like we were representing evil. "Best wishes on your big day from Moloch, Breeder of Blasphemies." But then, there were two teenage rodeo cowboys chatting about how they would kill the various wild animals on the riverbank, and a guy in a confederate flag baseball cap and a "100% Redneck" T-shirt. At a wedding. So we weren't the only things to look at.
It was a hell of a time. Good luck, groom boy. I'm going to go fight my cynicism about marriage by jumping in more puddles.
posted by James at 12:10 PM
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