4.000 Miles of Hell

4,000 Miles of Hell: Part One
Ripped from a deep, dreamless sleep by the unwarranted assault by a pit bull and a lab/shepherd mix that had decided my domination of the couch was over. I sat up mumbling something along the lines of “God damn dogs get off me!” as a large pink tongue covered my face in a sticky layer of drool.  My friend Jeff laughed at my discomfiture from the computer area, and said I needed to get up my bus was in 2 hours. Blinking bloodshot eyes drowsily, I stood swaying beside the couch, realizing rapidly that I was still hammered from the previous night’s festivities, and that I might puke. After a brief pit stop in the bathroom, as I mumbled unintelligibly in a manner akin to Johnny Depp from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I grabbed my duffel back, and began pulling everything out of it planning to repack it to fit all my worldly possessions inside.
Jeff asked if I planned to ride the bus in a tux, at which point I realized I was still wearing most of the silver tux I had worn to my friend Michaels wedding and subsequent receptions. Heading to the bathroom with a wad of clothes I changed out of the tuxedo and unceremoniously stuffed it in a plastic bag, to be returned to Michael. Rachael, Jeff’s girlfriend came out of their bedroom and sat on the couch, watching as I went back to unpacking and attempting to repack my bag. Watching as I swayed, crouched on the floor amidst a pile of clothes, belts, a hammock, and random other objects she eventually told me to get the fuck out of the way, and once I had stumbled over and collapsed in a chair, began to roll my clothes and pack them for me. I reached for the table, grabbing a pack of cigs and a lighter, and with a shaking hand lit one up, all without moving from my slumped sideways position.
As I smoked, my throat feeling like singed cardboard, I tried to wrap my mind around the previous day’s events. The wedding was nice, though being in a church for the first time in about a decade was a little disconcerting.  I was an usher and pretty proud of it, having never been any better than a ring bearer before in a wedding, and dig my duty with long confident strides and a solemn but friendly air. As the ceremony progressed, I got a bit choked up, reflecting on the good times we had in the past, and the changes to come. I couldn’t help casting a few glances at one of the bride’s friend’s who had come to a kegger I had thrown and had been extremely interested in, sit with her fiancé in his class A army uniform, damn she looked good, I guessed we weren’t going to go skydiving after all.
After the ceremony was the big reception. All the family and friends of both sides, only about a dozen of whom I knew,  lined up to get at the fajita buffet, talking, laughing, or just shuffling around quietly, dressed to their best and looking the stiffer for it. I hung back a bit catching up with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while, and hoping the line would die down a bit., before finally wading into the foray and getting a bit to eat. After finding a seat I began to carefully try to consume the contents of my plate without getting anything on my tux, not an easy thing with fajitas. After eating the pictures began, and the toasts, and the general hoorah of activity as small kids ran around with one time use cameras and balloons, taking artistic pictures of the floor, their thumbs, halves of peoples’ faces and the like, and a few friends and I went outside to smoke and nip from the flask I had been given as a gift for being in the wedding,  with my name and the date on it. After the bride and groom rode off on their horse and carriage and the other usher and I stuck around to help move tables and load cars with leftovers, we headed over Michael’s parents house to get the post-reception, reception started.