It's A Nice Day For A White Wedding

The happy couple, Jerry and Joanne. (Hat Tip - Joe Pawko)

Last Saturday, I had the honor of attending my former partner's wedding here in Murdertown. For those of you not familiar with this blog, Murdertown is my hometown of Philadelphia, where the current homicide count stands at 250 bodies. You would think that a non-Italian wedding would be safe from gunfire, but that didn't stop my former co-worker from bringing heat. Hey, better safe than sorry, right?

Before I get to the festivities, I have a confession: I had no desire to go to this thing. (Cue sounds of Jerry and Joanne plotting my untimely death.) Don't get me wrong: I love them both, but I hate weddings! Ninety-percent of the time, they're dull events with canned music and a lot of choreography. I hate that crap. So, as the missus was pushing me out the door, screaming, "You're going, and you're gonna have a great time!," I winced a little.

And then we arrived at the reception. Unfortunately, with two little crumb crunchers running around, we couldn't abuse my in-laws enough for them to take the kids all day. Thankfully, Jerry understood. Immediately after we entered the hall, it was a meet-and-greet with police officers I haven't seen since my promotion . . . because the bastards never threw me a promotional party! I kid, I kid! I caught up with Kim, my former corporal, and she looked as lovely as ever. Her husband works security for the Flyers, and was nice enough to get me and my friends into the locker room area after a few games. Sweet!

I saw SYLG regular Wagonsux almost immediately, but between wincing in pain from the knee, catching up with the cops at my table, and drinking rum and cokes ad nauseum, I never got to say hello. Sorry again, W. I was also pleased to see my other former partner, Doris, show up . . . in a dress!

Sidebar, Your Honor: Seeing Doris in a dress is like seeing the Northern Lights in person: it doesn't happen very often, but when it does, you remember it. I actually found a photo of her at the wedding, but since she requires approval before the publication of any photo of her, I'll pass.

Anyway, since the missus was driving, I figured I'd hit the bar. Since I didn't see the Guinness on tap - thanks for telling me, Wagonsux - I started off with Captain and Coke. You know you're at a great reception when the barmaid adds a little Coke for color. After my second one, I was feeling pretty swell.

The wedding party entered, and Jerry and Joanne danced for the first time as husband and wife. It was pretty cool, because unlike some of the cops there, we were able to go out with them before the Big Day. Not only is Joanne beautiful - the picture above does her no justice: she was stunning - but she's funny, friendly, and smart. She's pretty much the anti-Wyatt.

After dinner, the dance floor opened up, and the couple toured the tables. It appeared that Jerry took my one piece of advice: it'll go fast, so enjoy it as best as you can. They said hello to everyone in record time, but without brushing folks off. They looked like pros. The benefit of this? Jerry got to the bar right quick, and Joanne hit the dance floor with her friends. Unlike a lot of couples, they were having fun at their wedding. it was nice to see.

When we worked the wagon together, Jerry also used to joke that he wanted to see me drunk. (Actually, Doris always used to say that, too.) Saturday was their lucky day. I was in pain, so the alcohol was going to keep flowing.

It got much worse when Jerry found me.

"Yo! Get over here and do a shot!," I heard from halfway across the room. Being the gracious guest, how could I refuse. I asked Jerry what we were drinking, and he replied, "Kamikazes!"

Sidebar, Your Honor: For you tee-totalers out there, Kamikazes are made with vodka. I haven't had vodka since the "I'm part Russian" incident of 1994. Badger or Vinnie can tell that story. This would get messy.

I don't remember how many Kamikaze shots we had, but Doris came up to me and said something to the effect of, "You're hammered!" You should also know she was smiling and laughing when she said it. I didn't care: I was celebrating with my partner.

After one or two more shots - the wife would say "many more," but she's a damned liar - Joanne came up to us. "Oh, crap," I thought. "Jerry's gonna get his ass kicked at his own wedding." Then I thought, "This is gonna be GREAT!"

Instead, Joanne stood on her toes, kissed him on the lips, and said, "You drink with your friends, honey. I'm gonna go dance."

"Wow," I thought. "She's the perfect woman. "

Congratulations guys! We love you.