One of my best friends from college, Sakina, got married this weekend. A fairly traditional Muslim wedding. Six hours, no alcohol, no single girls that will have sex with me, and nothing but Indian food. Oh happy joy!!

To make matters worse, the girl who I was supposed to bring as a date canceled on me 5 hours before the ceremony. Why? Let's just say there was an incident the night before and leave it at that. [And don't fucking email me asking what happened. I won't tell you. Truth is, I'm not even exactly sure what she was mad about, but I'm sure if I detailed the night, you'd be able to point to like 15 horrible things I did.]

I start to get ready at around 2pm for the 6pm start time. Not getting dressed mind you; I crack my first beer at 2pm. After all, those Coronas are not going to throw themselves up. I run through 8 of them by 4pm and start on Grey Goose and club soda. By 5:30, it's straight Goose and I'm straight blitzed.

But as is my style, I scrub up well. I wore a perfectly tailored black Armani suit with a white poly-rayon undershirt. For one of the few times in my life, I looked good.

Now, when she invited me to this wedding several months ago, we had this discussion:

Me "Is there going to be liquor?"
Sakina "No, silly! It's a Muslim wedding!"
Me "Well, is it BYOB?"
Sakina "NO! It's BYO-NOTHING!!"
Me "What? That's kooky talk. How am I supposed to go to a wedding without drinking?"
Sakina "You can't drink! My parents are devout Muslims."
Me "Yes, but your friends aren't. Especially Tucker."

I figured that settled the issue. Sakina has known me for 8 years; she knows what I am like. She knows I am unswerving in my alcoholic principles. As I depart, I put the flask of Popov vodka in one back pocket and flask of Montezuma tequila in the other. I travel in style.

I arrive at the reception hall, and I am literally one of about 14 white people. Everyone else, all 250+, are Indian. And these aren't Native American Indian. That'd be great--then you'd know there would be liquor there. Native Americans take their fire water seriously.

I immediately go to the bar. It had a wide selection of water, juice and soda. I ask the girl for two glasses of ice, one with a little Sprite, the other with a little Coke. She eyes me suspiciously. Fuck her.

I carry my drinks to the bathroom, where I have to ask someone for assistance in opening the stall door, because you know, my hands are full. He eyes me suspiciously. Fuck him.

I down my first couple of makeshift high-balls, all the while being forced to consider that perhaps my life is in a shambles if I am sneaking liquor into a Muslim wedding and drinking it on a toilet seat. I drench this thought with vodka and drive on.

Wandering around trying to find someone to talk too, I realize that I know very few people at this wedding. All of the people I know are either relatives of Sakina, and thus hate me, or are from the University of Chicago, and thus hate me. So I find the people who either work with or went to college with the groom, Monty. Within 15 minutes, they hate me. Why? Probably because of conversations like this:

Girl "So, what do you do?"
Tucker "I'm not really sure."
Girl "You're not sure? What is your job then?"
Tucker "Well, I guess I'm a writer." [Saying this always propels me into a giggle fit]
Girl "A writer? What's so funny? Would I have read anything you've written?"
Tucker "If you'd read something of mine, you wouldn't be talking to me right now."
Girl "Well, what have you published?"
Tucker "Umm...I wrote a children's book."
Girl "Really? What's the title?"
Tucker "It's called 'The Boy Who Died From Eating All His Vegetables.'"
Girl "Oh dear God..."

I told this very sweet Indian couple that I was a fluffer for porn movies. They didn't know what a fluffer was, so I told them to ask their daughter, she'd know. I told one of the bridesmaids that I was a freelance dog and cat euthanizer for local animal shelters. I thought she was going to cry. Hey, someone has to do it, right? I tried to console her by telling her that I only made the ugly dogs and cats suffer, and I killed the cute ones quickly. I explained that it all depended on how far away from their skull you held the gun. I didn't see her at the reception after that. Whatever; if she can't take a joke, fuck her.

After the "cocktail" reception, we all filed into the auditorium for food and speeches. I'll admit, it was touching. I love my little Sakku and her husband Monty, to death, and I got a wee bit misty-eyed. Whatever; it was probably just the liquor.

Then we ate. Indian food sucks, but this was okay for sucky food, I guess. After the meal there was this slide show that Sakina's dad put on. I think it was her dad; I don't really know, everything got blurry right around that point. Perhaps tellingly, I didn't even think I was that drunk. I didn't feel drunk. But who really ever knows, right?

Well, everyone at the tables around me knew when I passed out in my seat during his slide show.

Posted by at 11:09 PM

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