June 5, 2000: Goin' to Oklahoma
(This is a long one. Be forewarned.)

I just spent a few days traveling to, staying in, and leaving Oklahoma city to be the best man at my brother's wedding. Here's some of the interesting parts. Pictures coming eventually.

Thursday: We hella overpacked, jammed our crap in the car, and me, my mom, and her boyfriend piled into the good ol' Tempo and headed for the Sooner State. Stopped at Taco Bell for Chilitos and Chalupas. Much farting was heard. Made a few wrong turns; got lost a few times as a result. In Fort Smith Arkansas, stopped at Applebee's and gorged ourselves on food that wasn't as good as its price would suggest. Even more farting was heard. This would become the dominant theme of our trip. Not much later, after crossing the state border, we stopped for gas. It was there that I looked up and saw a billboard that said "You call it abortion... God calls it murder," then looked down and saw a middle aged, the hundred pound woman with a mullet and no shoes wearing a mumu. No doubt about it. I was in fucking Oklahoma. We made our way into Oklahoma City, which was where we would be staying, as well as where the wedding would be. We then proceeded to get lost again, and drive around for an hour, maybe longer, before finding a Howard Johnson to stay at. An innkeeper of Indian descent (who we decided was either named Ackbar, Sirajul, or Steve) gave us our tickets, and we unloaded our crap and got into the room, farting constantly. We then flipped through the enormous coupon section of the equally enormous phone book and Oklahoma Tourist Guide and made jokes about what we saw. ("Louis is here to get seduced into the Cowboy Hall of Fame tomorrow.") Will Rogers seems to have a hand in everything there. Streets, Parks, an international airport, and even a goddamn bingo hall were named after him. Will Rogers is the man. After farting, bathing, and watching TV, we struggled to sleep as my mom snored with the volume of an average Dismember concert. Joy.

Friday: Woke up kind of late and headed over to the restaurant next door to the hotel and gorged ourselves on really good, low-priced breakfast food. Yum. Got our asses back into the car and headed back out on the road to go to Norman, where mom and Louis would drop me off to spend the day with my brother and get my tuxedo, do the rehearsal, etc., while they went back to OKC to do God-knows-what. (Insert 70s porno music here) My brother was freaked out to see that I have hair now. It was kinda weird for me to see the crap he took with him to Oklahoma 5 years ago in a new place. Creepy. He has an assload of CDs, and I noticed a few odd things. I had no idea Juliana Hatfield had so many albums. There were like 8 of those bastards. And how the hell could Fu Schnickens make a "Greatest Hits" album? They only had one hit, and that was only because of Shaquille O'Neal. Crazy. Anyway, after a few phone calls, we met up with Lu, (Luis) one of the two groomsmen, and headed off to the mall to get our tuxedos. On the way, I had the privilege of hearing how fake the stripper for Jack's bachelor party seemed ("She smelled like fuckin' Play-Doh, dude!") and how Lu couldn't make it because of a stomach virus of epic proportions. ("I would have been there, but I was busy SHITTING MY ASS OFF") We then decided that me and my brother would get dysentery to lose weight and the matter was settled. On the way there, the passenger side windshield wiper came loose, forcing Lu to hang out of the window and fix it at 60 mph, and we all agreed that when telling the story, it would be "enhanced" to where he pulled a T.J. Hooker, sprawled out on the hood. Once in the mall, we headed for Gingiss Formalwear, which to our horror, had a line stretching back all the way to Tulsa. We then passed the time in various ways, including discussing video games and noticing how the CNS Watch Repair sign looked an awful lot like it said "snatch repair." The rehearsal was at 6:30, and it was nearing six, so drastic measures had to be taken. Rather than stand in line and then try the tuxes on to make sure everything was okay, we got into the express line (which had no people in it), and just took the bastards home as they were. This would haunt us later. Jack dropped me off at his place and took Lu home, where they would both try theirs on and see what was wrong. I tried mine on, and everything was cool (or so I thought), and I changed into my tacky hawaiian style shirt with little surfboards all over it, and the "nice" pants and shoes Mom made me bring. Jack came home, bitching about how a buckle thingy in his pant was broken, and how there was dirt on his white tuxedo coat. ("Dude, there's a fat narste on my coat!") He then changed into clothes that were eerily similar to mine and we headed out to recapture Lu and get our asses to the rehearsal. It was 6:45 and OKC was about 30 minutes away... The rehearsal was supposed to be at 6:30. Goddamn... As predicted, everyone there was saying "just don't be late for the wedding, huh huh huh," all thinking they were being clever and/or original. Eric, the other groomsman, was there, and to our relief, had remembered to go get his tux. Finally something went right. Everyone and their grandmother (actually, my grandmother stayed in Sulphur, OK with other relatives...) was gathered at a rainy Will Rogers Park (there he is again), where a really nice preacher-type guy (I'm glad he never found out my brother is an atheist almost to the point of being the Antichrist...) guided us through what was going to happen, and what would be different if it got rained out and we had to move it from the Rose Garden to the Senior Citizen's Center next door. (Which was a given at this point) As he talked to other people about stuff, me, Jack, Lu, and Eric decided that it would be best if Jack came out to Triple H's entrance theme tomorrow. (we're odd) We then got our rain-soaked asses together and headed to a nice restaurant I forgot the name off and gorged ourselves once again. I ordered an IBC Root Beer, and damned if everyone didn't think I was drinking a real beer. Pictures were taken for future reference. Everyone went their separate ways, and me and Jack went back to his apartment, where he typed up and emailed his vows to preacher guy, we watched the A Team, and went to bed.

Saturday: Ah, the big day. We got up early and scrambled to get our crap on. It was then that we noticed that my tux had come with no cufflinks of those little button cover things. I would look wrong, and Gingiss would accuse us of losing them and make us pay through the nose. Shit. As my brother scrambled to pack stuff for his honeymoon, by the time Eric and Lu got there, he was still in his undies. We noticed that my jacket sleeves were long enough to cover up my missing cufflinks, and Eric let me borrow two of his button cover thingies that were covered by his vest, so my problems were solved. Jack's broken buckle ran him the risk of accidentally dropping trou at the altar, but he had no other options. All our wardrobe concerns seemed solved, until Lu noticed a thread hanging off his vest. Eric instinctively yanked it, and it was apparently a bad thread to yank, as his top vest button went flying across the room. Fuck. With no sewing skills and even less free time, me, Jack, and Eric just decided to undo our top buttons, as some twisted show of solidarity. We piled into two cars and made our way across the rainy interstate, which I swear to God was basically littered with wrecked cars. Oh boy. And once again the damn wiper came loose. Having my seat further back and lacking Lu's dexterity (read: I am fat), I was unable to reach the wiper. For miles, we simply winced as the bare wiper scraped a bigass groove into the surface of his windshield. Finally arrived at the park named after that cowboy guy, and parked outside the rose garden, wondering exactly where the hell the wedding would be. Lu and Eric parked next to us, and then climbed into our back seat to figure out what the hell was going on. Eric found Cortney's (my future sister in law, you dummy) German language copy of The Little Mermaid soundtrack, (she's a German major) and we all laughed our asses off to some guy with a bizarre Jamaican / German accent singing "Unter das Mer" or some shit like that. It was then that some of Cortney's German speaking friends pulled up next to us, making us laugh even harder. We wanted to find some way of making them cuss us out in German, and my brother had decided to back up and ram their car to facilitate this, but fortunately, someone called his cell phone and told us to go to the Senior Citizen's place before an international incident would screw with his wedding. It was then that I heard a damn good joke.

What's better than winning the gold medal at the Special Olympics?
NOT BEING RETARDED!

We parked outside the center, and immediately noticed a pair of abandoned boxer shorts by the curb. ("Dude! Skivvies!") We headed to the building, where family members met, hugs were exchanged, many photos were taken, and someone handed me the ring I had to hand Jack so he could, like, get married, or something. Then, I was gripped with fear and paranoia. I thought I would lose the ring. I knew I would lose the ring. With my hand in my pocket and a death grip on what was soon to be Cortney's wedding ring, all proceeded as normal. Everything during the wedding went as planned, aside from the standard difficulties with the ring bearer and flower girl, and the whole room, bride, groom, preacher, and everyone else included, chuckling when the preacher read the Cherokee Wedding prayer, and got to the "now you will feel no rain" part. My brother was married, and now began the mad scramble to greet more relatives, take more pictures (including one that may or may not be developed, with me and the two groomsmen doing the NWO "let's point at Hulk Hogan" thing at my brother), and get cake and punch. It was then that me and Lu noticed how damn cool the preacher's scarf was, and that we both had to have one for ourselves. Cortney threw the bouquet. No one caught it, and finally one chick ran forward and snatched it. Jack threw the garter. I caught the fucking garter. This was greeted by my brother with the same kind of look that Scott Taylor gets just before he does the Worm. I guess I have to get married next. I changed back into my civilian clothes, and we vandalized their car (Cortney's brother wrote "We are naked" on one window. I like Cortney's brother) and blew bubbles at them (couldn't throw rice from the risk of making ducks explode), and they sped off to go bungee jumping and screw like apes. Life was good. We then got everyone from our side of the family together and headed off to a really bad Mexican restaurant to gorge ourselves once more. Me, mom and Louis then headed back to the hotel room and vegetated in front of the TV for a while, then around 9, decided to go eat again. (Not my idea) We went to some seafood buffet and gorged ourselves yet again, though my mom continually bitched at me not eating enough. We went back to the room and passed out while watching Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

Sunday: Got up, packed our shit, and headed for home. Stopped in Henryetta, OK (the home of Troy Aikman, you silly bastards), and stopped at the Huckleberry Restaurant, which made the claim of being "Henryetta's Pig-Out Palace." And that it was. I ate a burger roughly the size of my head, and was almost unable to walk out of there. We all bought T- shirts. Gorged once again, I vowed never to eat again, as long as I may live. (pretty ambitious vow...) We piled back into the Tempo and headed across the rainy interstate, literally having a brush with death every ten minutes, from a mixture of slick pavement and Oklahomeys who don't know how to drive. We had to stop for gas / urination seemingly thousands of times, thanks to my mom and her weak-ass bladder. (Never watch a movie with her. The only part of the movie you'll remember is when she goes "pause it, I have to pee") Stopped to piss at a little store selling all sorts of Indian artifacts / souvenirs to paleface tourists who are now fascinated with the people they killed, raped, stole from, and generally fucked over in every way imaginable. (Insert instrumental version of "God Bless America" here) We ended up staying there for like 2 hours, and left with only a little souvenir thing that looks an awful lot like a tornado when you shake it up. More rain, more driving, more near accidents. Stopped to piss and get gas in Arkansas, where I picked up a "Cheech and Chong's Greatest Hit" tape for 5 bucks. Coolness. Made it to Helena Arkansas, on the Arkansas / Mississippi (aka Number 49 / Number 50) border, and mom's bizarre craving for vegetables made us stop at the Lady Luck Casino to eat, though I knew their real intentions. As I suspected, within 5 minutes of being inside, all eating-related plans were forgotten and Mom was trying to make some deal with me to go play arcade games while they gambled. Fuck no. I managed to get my way with the simple argument that I had car keys, and if they went gambling, the car would be back in Cleveland, Mississippi by the time they got out of there. Needless to say, we went straight home. When we got home, we were pleasantly surprised that Frankie (the cat) hadn't destroyed anything too valuable. My back hurts, I can't stop farting, and my feet feel like pure hell. I had a great weekend.

2006 Reflections: Since this was typed up, my brother has gotten divorced, I've moved to Oklahoma, my mom and Louis moved in together, somehow it led to a nasty breakup where she almost served time, and now I actually own two shirts from the Huckleberry Restaurant. And I still haven't gotten married.