High Kicks, Hot Dogs and Beach Weddings. Part 2

Once we got down to the beach, Jake and I positioned our chairs and beach blankets into a direct line with the sun, while Kim and Ian set up under the umbrella to protect their creamy whiteness. Ian had been in the sun for two days, and had changed from zinc white to a lovely shade of eggshell. It was about 11:30am when Ian began slurring, taking intermittent breaks to turn his head and spit mid-slur. At this point though, he was still able to walk upright in normal human being fashion.

We were all laughing up a storm when all of a sudden magical brownies and rice krispy treats hit the scene, and shit got kicked up a notch. My cousin Tim, who is Jesus’ doppelgänger, and his enzyme eating gluten-free girlfriend were about 50 yards over, lying on a blanket under an umbrella, curled up together like cats. They were there all day as this story unfolded, and never once moved, except for when their umbrella dislodged from the wind and came 5″ from impaling my anus. Then they got up, stretched, replaced the umbrella, stated that they needed a nap (because they were tired from napping 4 hours) and curled back up in silent cat fashion.

Apparently the brownies and booze were kicking in, and Jake and Kim started “dancing” on the beach. Dancing in their world means high kicks over your head, gazelle-like running leaps, hand stands, cartwheels, gymnastics, and the kind of bump and grind action that could actually get you arrested. Naturally, I joined them. Jake kept shouting over the waves, “We need music! Play the Harlem Shake! Play the Harlem Shake! Play the Harlem Shake! Play the Harlem Shake!” Kim pulled it up on her iPhone and played it. On her iPhone, on the beach, over the waves, on her iPhone. You would have thought we were in a club. Here’s a slice of what went down. Please notice that Ian is only able to crawl.

These shenanigans continued for hours, and around 4:00 my brother Joe showed up. He had been in the car for hours, and had some serious catching up to do. Jake had to head back to get ready for the rehearsal dinner, followed by cocktails and karaoke for all of the out-of-town guests at the Sunset Bar & Grill, or thebahgill as Ian liked to slur it. Joe, Kim, Ian and I stayed out on the beach until about 5:30 then we all headed back to our little beach house to meet Mariah, Joe’s fiancée.

I know this family tree is complicated, so I made this all by myself to make your life easier:


I still find it funny that I am now always the DD, because I was normally playing Ian in this scenario. As we rode down the only 2 lane road on the island, my sunroof was open, and out flew Kim’s fedora, landing directly in the center of the road. Although they were hammered and becoming slightly annoying, I turned around so they could run out to get it, because I just couldn’t, in good conscience, allow Kim to walk around with her hair like that. She dodged a few tractor trailers, retrieved her fedora, and we finally arrived back at our house. We were all going to get ready there, go to thebahgill and grab dinner before the karaoke shit show began at 8pm.

Somehow we sort of got our shit together and rode over to the place. When we arrived at the hostess stand, we told her we needed a table for 5 and she disappeared to go look for one. Being the mature 42-year-old woman who I am, I grabbed a marker from behind the hostess stand and began writing my own special for the evening on the dry erase board, “4LB LOBSTER – $4.00!” Of course when we were seated, we all ordered the $4 lobster special, like giggling idiots.

I ordered an O’Douls (because that’s how I roll) and everyone ordered beers, with the exception of Kim, who ordered some crazy ass Mai-Tai thing, stating, “I am on my honeymoon!” We couldn’t get food into Ian fast enough, Kim ordered him a bunch of fried shit and double potatoes, she kept saying, “you need to eat some more potatoes sweetie!” We were all loud and laughing and obnoxious and the food sucked but we didn’t care. Slowly, Ian stopped speaking in cursive over the course of our 1 1/2 hour dinner that should’ve taken 20 minutes. Once I belched so loud I got a horrified, disgusted look from a waitress putting in an order on the Posi-Touch screen across the full dining room. I actually felt embarrassed, and ashamed it was so loud, for a hot minute.

We paid our check and headed upstairs for the crazy ass Boston vs. Maryland West Side Story karaoke portion of the evening. It was a drunken shit show up there. I’ll be honest, being sober, I do find it amusing and entertaining watching everyone’s wheels fall off, but there comes a point where it’s all slurring and spitting and close talking, and I hit the wall. There were a few drunk Uncles on the Boston side that would close talk me at defcon level 10 while spraying my face with hot liquor spit. I dodged as many of them as I could, until finally the karaoke was about to begin.

The karaoke “DJ” was a dead ringer for Pat.


I’m not even kidding. Everyone was calling it “Shim” all night, it was terribly confusing. The first request was called, of course it was Jake, and of course it was Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On. Let me just say, he brought the house down. He had been slamming vodka’s for the past hour in preparation, and he put on quite the show. He will tell you he nailed it. I will tell you he made my ears bleed on the high notes, but tears of joy were simultaneously running down my legs. When he finished, and the crowd roared with applause, Pat got on the microphone, I shit you not, raised one hand in the air as if it were at a Baptist sermon and exclaimed, “PRAISE JESUS!! In the 7 years I’ve been doing this, that was the BEST I have ever seen!” I’m sure Jake went home and added that to his resume.

Please note "Pat". Behind Jake is the mother of the groom, and drunk uncle, later to be dubbed Dr. Slobbertooth

Please note “Pat”. Behind Jake is a woman I do not know, and drunk uncle, later to be dubbed Dr. Slobbertooth

We hung around until around 11:30, and I finally dragged my brother, Mariah, Kim and Ian out of there. As we walked to the parking lot, I clicked my key fob to unlock the car, and the inside light went on. As we got closer I noticed my car was covered, and I mean COVERED in little flying bugs. Every inch, like fur. Before I knew what was happening, it was like a Hitchcock movie, the bugs swarmed us like a second skin, there was no escaping it. Everyone was going batshit crazy swatting and covering their faces. We dove into the car and shut it up tight, but there were still thousands of them inside, it was the most fucked up thing I have ever witnessed. Everyone was drunk and screaming and swatting as I drove out of the swarm until we picked up speed and I could open the windows to let some of them out. It made you itch from head to toe, it was a fucking nightmare.

After locating Kim and Ian’s duffel bag of clothing, and Ian’s cell phone, I dropped them off and we said our goodbye’s. They had to leave at 6am because Kim had to be at work the following day at 2. I knew exactly how awful that ride was going to be, and that knowledge only further cemented my sobriety. I crawled into bed, exhausted. The next day was the big day, Rachel and Chris’ wedding.

13 replies

  1. “Dancing in their world means high kicks over your head, gazelle-like running leaps, hand stands, cartwheels, gymnastics, and the kind of bump and grind action that could actually get you arrested.” — Is there any other way to dance? If there is, I want no part of it.

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