A wedding narration

The wedding last weekend taught me 2 very important things: 1. My friends and I are not like most girls, even when the occasion requires it our maturity can be lacking at times (I mean we are the girls who tried to light our friend’s farts on fire during our last spring break) 2. We should have booked the stripper and got some booze as a post wedding after party. It would have beat wandering the Four Seasons Hotel, and later in the night the city of Boston, looking for an after party to continue the carnage upon our livers.

There is always a turning point that occurs during a crazy evening, when it goes from mundane benign fun to this point where the line is crossed and you are full on rager. The line began getting blurred at the cocktail hour at the martini bar where I began to play ‘around the world’ trying to sample all the flavored martinis. The line got further blurred when we noticed that they were keeping the bar open and we passed the bar on the way to have a cigg. The line got muddled when a group of my friends ended up skipping dinner because our cigg/alcohol breaks lasted so long that the waiters scooped up the dinners when became cold. So here you have excessive drinking on an empty stomach at a Sat night wedding at the Four Seasons.

Houston, I think we may have a problem.

We knew the line that separated the mature grown ups from the alcoholics was long overstepped when a group of us ran to the dance floor next to the bride and began to make the blow job motion, inviting the bride to partake. I don’t think the wedding photographer captured that Kodak moment. Once the metaphorical line is crossed, it is all over and you might as well load up on the free booze and embrace the fucked up evening ahead. Which we did. And a fucked up night which we had.

Post wedding once we realized that the band wasn’t coming back to our hotel room to party, Lu and I decide to go with some other people to this paramedic bar someplace in Boston. As if we weren’t drunk enough, we thought it would be a good idea to continue to get drunk. The Russian who I was flirting with came along (I should preface that he flirted with every single homo girl at the party until he stumbled upon me.) and so did his friend.

We get to this blue collar bar, dressed up in our wedding clothes, and Lu and I are surrounded by Irish men. Evidently this bar is like an Ellis Island of sorts, every guy was fresh off the boat from Ireland. My song starts playing, with a bottle of beer in hand I begin to dance on tables and later make friends with some Irish boys. Twin Irish boys. Again, I have a dilemma, do I continue to flirt with the Russian and begin to build my men of Eastern Europe collection or do I flirt with the Irish twins and build my men of the UK collection? And Lu and I could get Irish twins and we are sharing a bed…

The Russian and his friend stay close by, me and Lu begin flirting with the Irish twins and as the bar begins to close, Lu and I suggest that we go back to our hotel room. Irish Twins and the Russian and his friend…and since Lu is ½ Asian and I am ½ Jew, I guess this is like a mini-UN. We all get into the car with a very very drunk Irish twin driving and make our way back to the hotel. Once inside the twins are telling us to lose the Russian and his friend so that we could all ‘hang out’. AKA I get to fuck an Irish twin! As my friend gets to fuck an Irish twin! Score!! Until Lu sees a man in our lobby asking for assistance because he is a diabetic as his pleas fall on deaf ears of the hotel staff.

The night has officially come to a screeching halt.

Lu begins to yell at the hotel staff for not helping him and then starts to talk to the man to find out what she could do to help him. I guess I should say right now that he claimed he was a diabetic and needed SODA to boost his blood sugar. Evidently I found out from the guys who were paramedics that a true diabetic would never ask for soda but would ask for fruit juice instead. I think there is a flag on this play.

The Russian and his friend who are paramedics intervene and tell the guy that he has serious problems and that he isn’t a diabetic and that he needs to stop scamming Lu. The Irish twins are getting pissy because they want to get more drunk and fuck us. As I want them too. Crisis averted, 30 mins later we make our way upstairs back to our hotel room, as the lesbians who we are shaking up with are having sex. Irish twins have never seen real lesbians have sex or at least sleep naked. For the next 45 mins they were in the room they kept asking the lesbians, “You really fuck women?!” Score one for diversity and introducing people to new cultures.

I don’t know how drunk we were but I was thinking that as long as we got to the room, we would magically find booze, magically have a good night, and Lu and I would fuck some hot Irish twins. Didn’t happen. Instead we all sat around watching porn. That is until the lesbians, Lu and the Irish twins left with the Russians friend to go to the twins house. I stayed with the Russian. Didn’t have sex. Almost did but realized he would have been my second one night stand in 3 months and I am aiming for an American to fuck me.

That was my wedding story. With some of the juicier one-liners omitted to protect the innocent.