Last Thursday, I left Portland for Colorado decidedly single and without even a sliver of hope of being married by my 25th birthday. Late Sunday night, I returned to Portland still single and with no husband in sight, but basking in the glow of love left by the wedding of my dear friends Backus and Jakers.
Before I describe the wedding, a few notes on Colorado... I had never visited the state prior to this weekend, unless you count a few layovers at the Denver airport, which I don't. Colorado is very cold, full of elitist skiers (many of whom are also very attractive) and home to some of the best tubin' this side of the Mississippi. For those of you not familiar with tubin', allow me to describe: tubin' involves taking an inter tube, placing it on a snow covered hill and then sitting in the tube as it speeds to the bottom. I am what you might call an "xtreme tuber", meaning I usually only participate in backcountry or heli-tubing. At Copper Mountain, the resort we stayed at in Colorado, they did not offer these activities, so my friends and I decided to tube on their man made tracks. Except for Arizona resident Randi, tubin' was enjoyed by our entire group, even the very skeptical snowboarder Carrie. But back to the wedding. Oh, also I wrote song about tubin', which reminded Malia and I of our song writing days back at Whitman where we penned such classics as "Eunuch Boyfriend". Now, back to the wedding.
Heather Backus and Jake Rosenberg became Backus and Jakers Backenberg (and america gained one more Jew) on a snowy Sunday night at the conference center at Copper Mountain. The ceremony was beautiful and oozing with love; however, I did not cry. Malia did though. Actually she continued to cry through the receiving line, stopping only to marvel at how amazing it was that our table at the reception was the closest to the bar, then began crying all over again with happiness because of this fact.
Because we were so close to the bar, it was very easy for Emily, Carrie, Malia and I to do what we had been invited to the wedding to do, namely fulfill the roles of drunken sorority sisters of the bride. Emily succumbed to the drink first, and in no time was asking if we thought it would be ok for her to take her top off (but leave her skirt on of course). Malia and I quickly followed suit, leaving Carrie sober and alone. She decided to play catch up with white wine, and chugged a couple of glasses at the bar. Needless to say, about an hour later she could be overheard puking in the bathroom, yelling at us that we had better not tell Heather.
Drunkenly, the four of us decided to hit the dance floor for a bit, where we performed our famous "dance", before running back to the bar to get more drinks from the bartender, whose name tag read "Michael's Gay". Eventually, we stopped asking him for drinks and just starting taking bottles of champagne for shared consumption on the dance floor. My job was to pass the bottle to the bride's mother.
Anyway, eventually the booze ran out and the DJ took off, so, after Malia and I donned our communist navy caps, we took off for the Russian bar, Pravda, with a number of other young wedding guests. There, I befriended a hair stylist and a married South African who said we could have sex and his wife would totally be down if she could watch. Our communist hats were big hits, especially with the girl who informed us that she too was a communist as she had voted for Kerry. Around 2, Carrie and I headed back to our room, brimming with the kind of beautiful, happy thoughts only wedding bliss can bring.
Overall, seeing the first of my friends marry was a great experience. Therefore, I would like to encourage all my friends to hurry up and take husbands (or wives) and invite me to your weddings. I would also recommend that the dinner be served buffet style (for maximum food consumption by me, your guest) and I be seated in very close proximity to the open bar (for maximum alcohol consumption by me, your guest).
--Abra
