I just had the good fortune of attending a beautiful wedding the other day and I couldn’t help reflect on some of the weddings I’ve been to over the years. Whether it’s a Chihuahua carrying the rings down the aisle or the groomsmen mooning the camera, everyone has a memorable wedding experience. For me it just happened to take place outside the country at my brother in law’s wedding in Spain.
My ex wife’s family has a house in a very small village outside of Salamanca, Spain. It consists of 200 people and a bar, El Portal. You can imagine that they don’t have too many foreigners ever come to the village so when I am there I’m a bit of a novelty.
The night before the wedding I decided to have a few drinks at the bar in the village with my brother in law, Pedro and his friends. The bar is pretty small with a ratty Foosball table and a decent TV in the corner. It has some old tables that look like they are made out of tin and they could fall over at any moment and a rather impressive array of alcoholic beverages. The local drunk usually sits in the corner and loves staring at me when I walk in. I usually get ribbed a bit about being from a country that sucks at soccer. All in all, it’s exactly what you’d expect from a bar in a small town. Needless to say what happens in the bar in a small town pretty much gets back to everyone within 24 hours.
Pedro and I had decided that we would only have a few drinks and go to bed early. After all , he was getting married the next day and had lots of errands to run. The night started off harmless enough with 5 or so of us at the Bar including the owner , Antonio. We chatted away and they told me some good stories about the village and about Pedro. At 11 pm I decided that it was time to go. I proceeded to make my first big mistake at the bar and it is a lesson that I will never forget. I bought a round and told them that I was buying, “the last round of the night.” I quickly learned you never say that. Once you say it’s the last round they immediately tell you it’s the second to last round. I agreed and then tried saying the same thing again. Thus starting a long night of drinking I’ll never forget (or remember for that matter). After several more rounds Antonio decided I needed to be educated on the local alcohol, aguardiente. I’m pretty sure that I drank everything that had been at the bar for 20 years. Things that had never been opened, things that no else drank, and things that were simply undrinkable without copious amounts of alcohol in your system because it tastes like turpentine. The rest of the night at the bar was a blur and I have no idea when we left.
After we did leave, Pedro and I decided to walk around the entire village. It was a drunk bonding session where we talked about god knows what but I remember it being some deep shit. We somehow ended up wandering the hills outside the village when we noticed the sun coming up. We figured it was time to go home. We stumbled back home on the day of his wedding at 7 am in the morning.
Looking back this was a defining moment in my life. It made me closer to the people in the village and I now have a great bond with the bar and Antonio. In fact when I walk around the village I am, “that guy.” I guess that may not be a good thing to some but in a village where gossip is king I think it’s absolutely hilarious. However, when I woke up at 3pm that day to get ready for the wedding all I could think about was death. What the hell did I drink? All I had in my pocket was half of a 20 euro bill. My mind raced as I put the pieces together from the night before. I had about 2 hours to get ready and one of the worst headaches I’d ever had in my entire life. Somehow I pulled myself together. After a shower and some food I was back in business. I still felt pretty terrible but when I realized Pedro had only slept 2 or 3 hours I figured I could suck it up and get through it.
When we arrived at the church it was still very hot outside. Unfortunately in Spain they don’t have much air conditioning and after 2 minutes I was sweating like a (insert lame joke here). We were sitting in the 2nd row with the entire family and I was hoping that no one noticed that I was starting to lose it. Now I’m not a religious guy but I figure that if there is anywhere god is gonna listen to me, it’s gonna be in church, right? I immediately start praying, “Please god just get me through this ceremony!” Things actually were going OK. and I’m starting to think that maybe god actually heard me. The priest seemed like he was wrapping things up. I was thinking 10 minutes tops and it’s over,but then I realized how much trouble I was really in because suddenly there were TWO priests! I remember turning to my wife and saying, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” This was not happening. At this point I knew it was over. I wasn’t going to make it. I got up from the 2nd row of a packed church and made a beeline for the exit. At the time I thought every one in the place was staring at me. I somehow got outside, ran down the stairs and threw up all over the sidewalk. Maria’s cousin was with me the whole time and luckily no one else saw me. He took me across the street and I cleaned up and to this day most people have no idea why I so abruptly left that church. Although, that could also be the reason why everyone in the village looks at me the way they do.
“It was a drunk bonding session where we talked about god knows what but I remember it being some deep shit.”
Those are the best bonding moments ever!