Where do we start? At the beginning, and what was that? My friends were getting married. Well, they already were married, but they were having their official ceremony now. They got married some fine day at noon, walking into the local marriage office or wherever they do these things, and had someone seal the deal for them. Now, a year-ish later, the official ceremony happened. It was a magnificent and amazing wedding, with, at least not that I could see, any drama, any undesirable circumstances or fires to be put out, anything wrong, it went off without a hitch, but that’s what I saw on my end, and to know the truth we’d have to talk to Ross or Julie. The bridge and groom. At this wedding I talked to so many people, saw old friends, made new friends, had pleasant surprises, and even, just maybe, fell in love (actually that’s definitely happened, more on that later). It was such an incredible time, and with so many people that are like family to me, people I’ve grown up across the street from, guys I’ve played soccer with since I was in elementary school, and some of my to-this-day besties, in NYC, in LA… Oh man.

It’s just hitting me how much writing I have to do.

I know exactly what I want to write about, and just about how it will come out. If only I could skip the hard part and just dump it all out. Wouldn’t it be so easy? The thing is, that’s what I do at the computer, with my blogs, but I really want to do this piece justice, and so I’m writing it by hand. I was re-reading my blogs, and there was one post that I had written by hand, and I felt that that post was as far as quality goes, a cut above the rest. So there’s something about writing by hand that’s just better. I have thoughts on that but this is for another time.

A TANGENT. We don’t have time for tangents!!

Mainly, I want to share some funny stories and significant takeaways I have from this incredible wedding. And I want to start with the fact that I actually considered not even going at all.

I had a crisis at the super-200 pump amusement park gas station that is known as Buc-ees. Buc-ees is an experience, and I did experience it on my long, arduous journey to Bloomington. I started this long, arduous journey off by spending 45 minutes going the wrong way, and then 45 minutes retracing my steps, and then coming back to Nashville and trying again. This happened because, well.. it’s complicated, alright? Leave it at that. But as I made my way along, bored, anxious, upset to have my rhythm broken, feeling poor, that I couldn’t afford this trip, that I didn’t really need to be at this wedding, that I don’t even deserve to party or celebrate because I have so much that I should be doing, all of these things in my mind, and.. I was having a tough time. Then, I get to Buc-ees. I went inside to use the bathroom, the station was chaos, people everywhere, hundreds of people, employees shouting “Welcome to Buc-ees!!”, the station manager dealing with an upset family.. it was really like being at an amusement park. I did my business and got the hell out of there. I was thinking about covid too, and if you were trying to catch covid 100 times in 30 minutes, I can’t think of a better place to do it.

But I went back to my car, and I just sat there, and I guess, felt my feelings, and my feelings told me that I needed to have a cathartic experience rocking out to Disturbed. I was playing music via Bluetooth off of my Mac, my trusty sidekick in the passenger seat, and I had three albums downloaded, and “Ten Thousand Fists” by Disturbed was one of them, and its time had come. I pushed play, and immediately was taken away. In that moment, it was everything I needed, and I closed my eyes and headbanged for forty-minutes straight, thinking nothing and giving in completely to the rock. It was the boost I needed, and I left that Buc-ees headed in the right direction. In my heart of hearts, I was never actually going to turn that car around. Ross and Julie meant too much to me. I think I just needed to feel that I was making this decision to go totally on my terms. That somehow psychologically, that was seriously important to me. I have felt that recently, I’ve been giving a lot of my time and energy, and it might be, it has probably been too much, because I am a giver, and I also want to do everything. But Ross and Julie’s wedding, I knew, whatever it cost me, it was going to be worth it, and that’s what I knew in my heart. And then the first night/day of the wedding weekend passed, and I lay in bed thinking, “If I had actually turned around it would have been the most disastrous decision I’ve ever made in my life.” So shoutout to whoever above is looking out for me, and for Disturbed, and for my sister, always a strong voice of reason, in helping me through.

Alright… That was a lot about me, and not really about the wedding, but it is an important part of the story. Now, some stories from the wedding.

In case I run out of steam before I can tell this one, I’ll start with one of the best. It was a true sitcom moment.

It happened at the wedding ceremony dinner. Now, I didn’t eat much this weekend. I showed up that Friday night both dehydrated and famished, having spent 7 hours on the road with only a glass of coffee (yes I’m drinking coffee out of glasses, sue me) and no food that day, at all. I could hardly stand, let alone talk to people, and I was walking into a lion’s den. My man Scottie took me over to the charcuterie table and I got some sustenance, some provisions, and a Miller Lite in my tank, and felt the wind coming back into my sails during some speeches. That lifestyle, of finding windows to eat between socializing and drinking copious amounts of alcohol (I actually didn’t drink that much) continued all weekend, and by Monday morning I was 145 pounds. That’s the lightest I’ve been since high school, which is actually wild as hell. I feel like this is why celebrities are so skinny, that one Nickleback song about “we all stay skinny ’cause we just won’t eat.” Except that I’m not trying to be skinny, and I’m not trying to not eat. I just wasn’t hungry ever the entire weekend. Man, I’m really seeing that I had a kind of a food journey here.

Scavenging from the charcuterie tray, probably about 200 calories, was the first food meal I had, and the 4 or 5 drinks that Friday night. So, Saturday comes around, and I’m running on fumes. I didn’t realize it until after going back to our hotel room for the second time, after having done some socializing in the hotel cafe, and where I was first introduced to my future wife, new love, M. I can’t tell you her name because I don’t want to jinx anything, and I don’t want to look stupid if this doesn’t work out. But man, wouldn’t it be something if I could call it now. This morning, we go down to the lobby to get some breakfast and coffee, and end up sitting with Melanie, married to the bride’s oldest brother, a stallion in the military who unfortunately couldn’t be at the wedding, as he had been deployed to Bahrain. I had to ask Melanie if that was even a country, I was so unsure. You gotta’ do what you gotta’ do (regarding Jake’s having to miss the wedding because he’s in Bahrain). I’ve known this guy for many, many years, and Melanie I’ve known for a few years at least, and have always, like everybody, really liked her. But I realized when we sat down for breakfast together, that I was now also sitting right next to a really pretty girl.. Ah man, I’ve got butterflies right now.

So that this is not all about this really pretty blonde who is about my age, lives in the same city as me, and happened to be dressed exactly like me (black synthetic tank top, black synthetic skirt/pants, plain white sneakers, matching just like a real Japanese couple), Melanie had some avocado toast that she wasn’t going to eat, and she offered it to M, and M wasn’t going to eat it, and so she offered it to me. To be honest, it didn’t look all that appetizing, and like I said, I didn’t feel hunger once this entire weekend, but I am at least 50% Japanese in my soul, and I thought 「もったいない」(mottainai, no waste) and I took it. I said, half-jokingly, “Can I get a box for this?” And somehow a box appeared, and in the toast went. And the pretty blonde said, “Are you really going to eat it?” And I said yes. I would.

I should just mention this important detail now, which is that Melanie had actually tried to introduce me to this pretty blonde girl, her sister, at the first gathering last night, but she was seated and occupied, so it didn’t happen. This is important because it was the beginning of what I would by the end of this magnificent wedding weekend learn was a great conspiracy to set M and I up, or at least set M and somebody up. There was an M lottery going on, and I had no idea, but I had been chosen as the lucky winner.

Many comments were made about us, subtle and not so subtle, I’m realizing now.. but I’m getting ahead of myself. This entire piece might all ultimately revolve around the giant axis of my new love. I can see that it’s already happening. I am, as Usher says, “Caught up.” But the thing I’m trying to tell you here about this avocado toast and the not eating is that I graciously accepted this avocado toast, took it back to our room, which was a Stranger Things-themed room, that was a big hit and that my parents got great joy out of giving tours of that morning, and in-between and during these room tours, I realized that I was again running dangerously empty, and I went for that avocado toast, and managed to find some more precious nourishment, and I realized later, and my mom pointed out, that M was already taking care of me. (I know that was your toast originally Melanie, thank you too. It’s better for the plot if M is the one who really gave it to me, and it did go from her hands to mine.)

Holy crap you guys. Does anyone realize that this has all been to lay the groundwork for the sitcom event that happened at the wedding dinner? How many words ago did I introduce that? Amazing. This is some serious rambling right here, but it’s all with intention. So, now at the wedding ceremony dinner, I’m sitting with my three long-time friends, Adam, Emily, Caroline, friends that you know you can be 100% comfortable with. When you’ve been good friends for so long, when you know exactly who they are, when you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s an incredible thing. That shared history. Caroline from Spokane, Emily from New York City, Adam from Los Angeles, me from Nashville, we had all scattered like seeds in the wind after college, but we had all grown up together, shared the stomping grounds of Elkhart, Indiana, gone to the same schools. That’s the shared history, and I was happy that for that moment, we could all be together again. And, while we were all together, they could all be there, especially Caroline, who was sitting next to me, to witness the kind of event that makes my blog what it is.

So we sat together in the banquet hall, at this circular table for 8, although we were missing 2, adorned with beautiful flowers, napkins (cloths? There’s a better word, right? I’m not fancy.), candles maybe.. all very nice. We’re talking, laughing, chatting with our new friends Rob and Maddie, when the first plates are brought to the table. The appetizers. I look down at it, and see, amongst other bits of things, an enormous hunk of iceberg lettuce. I’m not the only one who thinks this is a massive wedge of lettuce. We all do, and many comments are made, including about how we also have to do the work of cutting it ourselves. I’m cool with that, personally I’m a big fan of chopping. But, man, this is a HUNK of lettuce, and between the chopping, the talking, the drinking.. it feels like twenty minutes pass, and I’ve managed to eat about 3/4 of this hunk of lettuce, and touched none of the other garnishings, and I can’t make any more progress. I’m full. I think then I made a few jokes about being full off of the lettuce. I had a feeling, in the back of my mind, that this wedge was going to do me in. I mean, it was bigger than both of my fists combined. That’s no joke. That’s a lot of raw plant matter right there. So, I chowed down on that lettuce, and I don’t remember exactly if anyone else at the table had been able to finish theirs.. I don’t think they did. But, eventually, the waiters came, the hunks were whisked away, and not long after, the main dish arrived.

As soon as this main dish was placed down before me, I was stunned. This, the main dish??? Because, while it was visually pleasant, and looked appetizing enough, it was actually, the entirety of it, smaller than that single hunk of iceberg lettuce. That’s not a dig at the meal at all – only a testament to how big the wedge of lettuce was. I had to point this out to Caroline. “It’s smaller than the lettuce!” She agreed. Now, I was busy gabbing, jabber-jawing away with my besties, and I had been done in by the lettuce, truly, but still, I knew that I should probably eat something more than 20 calories of lettuce so that I didn’t pass out later tonight. Before me was a plate of steamed broccoli, squash, two cherry tomato halves, and a clump of some interesting rice-mashed potato thing. “Light work,” I thought. This would be easy. That’s what I told myself, but actually, I knew the truth. If I ate any of this, I was going to be sick. I poked at the mashed potato. “What’s this?” I asked Caroline. “Risotto.” She said. Risotto. Interesting. I took a small bite. Way, way too salty. That wasn’t going to be eaten. I looked at the steamed vegetables. Hmm…. Where to start? Nowhere. I don’t want squishy right now. And, I’m full off of the lettuce.

That was as far as I got with that plate, for now. I’ll save it for later, I thought. But later came all too quickly, and it felt like the dinner had just started when the first waiter came over and said, hesitantly, “Should I take your plate?” You see, they were hesitating because they could see that I hadn’t touched a single thing on my plate. I was shocked to realize that so much time had passed, and I looked around the table. Plates were leaving, people had finished. I hadn’t eaten anything, but I couldn’t just waste this food, and I did want to try and eat something, so I said, “Not yet.”

The next waiter came in minutes. Almost no time had passed at all. They were circling like sharks, now. I hadn’t even thought about taking a bite yet. She came up (and every time a waiter came over, I was in the middle of blabbering), “Excuse me, are you still working on this?” “Ah…” I looked to my friends for help, as they were now starting to be amused.

And so it went, with me unable to eat but wanting to, and the waiters wanting to do their duty and take my plate. At this ceremony dinner a struggle was taking place, a battle between indecision and duty. The 4th waiter to come around was older, and wiser. He knew my type, he had seen this before. A slow eater, a jabber jaw. He was smiling, with a knowing look on his face, and I think he knew my answer before he even asked me, when he said, “Whaddya think boss?” I was still, even at this point, unwilling to let my full plate of food go, still guilty, still undecided, and he felt me out for a second, clearly enjoying my wavering, before letting me off the hook and saying, “I’ll let you keep going.” And at this point I was saying to the table, this is it, you guys. This is my life. You’re seeing firsthand what it’s like to be me. Because, what was happening here in some way encapsulates a great theme of life, and I was feeling it again so strongly in that moment, in this battle with the waiters – that is, life comes for you, whether you want it to or not, whether you are ready or not. You can stall, you can dodge, but life is relentless, and the great wheel never stops turning. You can put off one waiter, you can put off two, but they won’t stop coming. Sooner or later, you have to make a call.

After the 4th waiter, I had to make the call. I ate the two cherry tomato halves. That was all I could manage, but I had to do something, and that was enough to justify every waiter I had put off before. When the 5th and final waiter came, I had eaten my tomatoes, and as soon as he showed up I burst out, “Yes!! Yes, you can take my plate now!!” In my imagination, of course, the waiters would then all celebrate, as ecstatic to finally be able to take the plate as I was to get rid of it, but the poor guy that finally got my plate off the table, he looked like there was nowhere else he’d rather be that night, and had absolutely no interest in sharing in my enthusiasm with me, and I felt ashamed, and said then, like a normal person, “Thanks. I’m sorry.”

So there you go. That’s why I’m 145 pounds of lean muscle and bone.

There is no other real great story here, and now we fall into a collection of one-offs. I guess we are kind of in a way on the great story of the wedding, and even if they are out of order, as I tend to do it, these snapshots combined will make for a whole picture.

I didn’t get to talk to either Ross or Julie, the groom and bride (which feels strange to write backwards, as I just did), but that first Friday night I got to sit next to Ross on the couch, and we were talking about his speech, him having just been called on to speak, (you know when people chant, “Speech! Speech!”, I wonder if they do that in Japan?) Ross had been called on after Julie had just given a speech thanking everyone for coming, and after displaying that he really did not have anything to say, stood up and announced, “The bar is open.” And sat back down, like a boss. I was complimenting him on this fine speech, and asking if he would speak more tomorrow, and about speeches in general, and I asked if he had to do any public speaking for his job working in the parks department for the state of Indiana. He said that sometimes if the three or four people ranking above him drop out, he’s called on to speak at ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and I thought, you know, if you’re speaking at an actual ribbon-cutting ceremony, no matter how big of a deal it is, you’ve really gotten somewhere in life. I was really proud of him in that moment.

I want to tell you more about M but it’s giving me butterflies. There was another scene, a few scenes, that are story worthy, but they’re not scenes out of a sitcom, and they’re not even scenes out of a romcom. They’re scenes out of a straight-up romance. And you know, I’ve actually never written about romance before, because I really don’t have many romances, and they’re kind of private, but after reading my Anthology of Japanese Literature, which is like 80% about romance, I’m inspired to go for it.

When we were back in the hotel room, after all the Stranger Things tours, my parents commented on M. “That M is pretty cute!” Says my dad. She was pretty cute, oh yeah. I had noticed that, and that we were wearing the same outfit, and were the same age, living in the same place, and I had noticed too, that she was low-key, unassuming, laid-back, and had a dry sense of humor. That’s my kind of girl right there. She must have had some powerful-ass pheromones too, because for that short time we spent together at the cafe table, without much direct conversation between us, something was already stirring deep within me. She was now a major blip on my love-dar. M had my attention.

The next time I saw her was at the wedding ceremony. I had enough on my mind, with so many friends around, so much family, good people, good conversation, that I didn’t have much time to think more about her – but she was on my mind, and when after the dinner I went over to the bar to grab a drink, who did I spy but the beautiful blond in a black cocktail dress. I moved on over, accompanied by my #1 Fortnite duo Adam. Adam and I have a long history and are the best of buds, and recently, have been absolutely crushing on Fortnite, and I told many people at the wedding about this, and I’ve been so into it that I plan to end this entire piece with an epic Fortnite tale that includes Adam, but for now.. romance. M was over by the bar, and now Adam and I were over by the bar.. Wait, actually, it’s better than this. It’s actually a lot better, because Adam and I were actually at the bar first, and then, M came over and approached me, smiling, and saying, “Hey Nashville.” She was flirting with me. Now, it was on. I wasn’t going to put the mack on her exactly, that morning at the cafe table, woozy and famished, having slept for only two hours, and with my parents right next to me.. I’m not that good. But this, this was prime, and she seemed to be as interested in me as I was in her. I asked what she was ordering, and she said, “Double-vodka Diet Coke.” That was music to my ears. Not because I liked a double-vodka Diet Coke, but because it was exotic, I’d never heard of it before, and because it was a double, which is hardcore, and because I liked the way she said it. And I said, “A double-vodka Diet Coke. That’s kinda wild. Are you kinda wild?”

At that moment, the bartender calls to her. She get her double-vodka Diet Coke, and I step up, wanting whisky, but concerned that a straight whisky would hit me too hard. Adam suggested an old-fashioned, and I went for it. I like trying new things, but that old-fashioned was rough. I told Caroline when I had gone back to the table, and she tried it, and thought the whisky wasn’t very good. Hey, that’s not important. Romance.

M and I reconnected after getting our drinks. She said, “What table are you at?” She wanted to know where I was sitting. Oh yeah. “15. Come sit with me.” Now, for her to actually come sit with me would have been a huge power move, but I could tell, she wanted to. I went over with her to her table and cracked some jokes, said hi to Melanie, and left them, and as you can imagine, I was feeling pretty good in that moment. I also had a new quest, a primary mission forming in my mind. As I sat down at my table and chatted, I thought, “Whatever else I do tonight, I have to get this girl’s number.”

Well, to make a long story short.. later that night, after the toasts, the speeches, which were amazing, I’m sure some of the highest quality wedding speeches you could ask for (where I learned that Mr. Nolan is a professional host and toastmaster), it was the time that everyone had been waiting for: dance time. Take off the shoes, let down the hair, loosen the tie, and go crazy. M and I gravitated towards each other right away, with the man Mr. Pletcher bringing us into final contact. He took me by the arm and said, leading me over to her, and said with a smile, “Steven, there’s someone I want to introduce you to..” At the time I was all eyes on M, but looking back on it I realized that Phil must have known that we’d already met before, together that morning at the cafe, because he had come over and talked with us while we were there. He knew what he was doing, the sly dog, but I was looking at M, and we laughed, and I said, looking her in the eyes and laughing, “We’ve met.”

We took some space on the floor. She wanted to dance and talk, and I wanted to dance and talk, but my main mission had to be fulfilled. I will tell you guys, I’ve missed too many opportunities in my life by waiting for a better time, and I wasn’t going to miss this one. As soon as I had her, I stopped and said, seriously, “Please give me your number.” She laughed, and said, “I like how you stopped dancing to ask me that.” I said, “I’m worried I’ll never see you again.” I really was. I am renowned for falling fast and hard, it’s true. It’s also rare for me. Except for when I was in Thailand, and I had a new love every other week.. but that’s another story. It really doesn’t happen often for me, that I find a big fish, and here was a big fish I had on my line, and I knew it, and I was not going to let it go. She said those blessed words, “Yeah, I’ll give you my number.” And then, “You can just get my Instagram from Melanie. I don’t have my phone on me.” “I do.” I said, and whipped out my flip-phone, flipping it open. Now, I have in my years of ownership of this flip-phone come to learn that it is something of a legendary device. The flip-phone has been almost entirely phased out, although I have heard they are making a resurgence, and especially among young people, it’s a relic. It’s like going to battle with a sword instead of a gun. My flip-phone was a toy for many at this very wedding, and multiple times it left my person, for the other guests to play with. Mitch called my brother on it, and Sharah, Julie’s maid of honor, spent five minutes posing with it at the bar after the wedding ceremony before handing it back to me and then immediately asking, “Wait, can I have it back?” To pose for more photos. The guy next to me, another Adam, said to me, “You really live with that?” And I said, “Yep. It’s my real life.” He was impressed. People are always impressed. Derek was impressed too. I think he said I was living his dream. That’s often how people feel about it, but now we’re entering into new territory and we’re not going there, because, romance.

M put her number in my phone, and y’all are going to cringe at this. I actually made a terrible mistake here. I filled in the name for her, so that all she’d have to do was put down her number, but I put the wrong name down. I wrote, “Madi”, inventing some kind of strange new spelling in the process (at least I’ve never seen anyone named Maddie spell their name this way). Look, I had learned about 50 names that night, and I had just been sitting with a Maddie/Madi, and I had had some drinks, alright? I knew what her name was. Seeing this, M said, “My name’s M” and I said, taking the phone and fixing my mistake immediately, “Uhm, this never happened. Please forget this ever happened.” I thought about the Men In Black mind-wipe device and almost pantomimed using it, but this was a crucial moment. Keep the silliness to a minimum. I handed her back the phone, and she put the digits in.

So, what happened next? Well, the right thing happened for making this a good romance tale, but the wrong thing happened for me and my happiness. Instead of us then dancing away the night and sharing a magical kiss during a slow song, as it should have been, someone pulled me away, and when I was free again, M was nowhere to be found. I haven’t seen her since. I knew exactly where she went, and she wouldn’t be coming back, but that didn’t stop me from scanning the room every 5 minutes to see if she’d returned, and eventually giving up and leaving the dance floor a sad puppy. To be honest, also, they just weren’t playing enough Nirvana for me, and when you’re having a grunge era, there’s only so much happy dance pop music you can take. Too long without talking to either the pretty blond or hearing a distorted guitar, and I was out. Before tapping out, I didn’t miss looking up to see two woman up on the stage above everyone else, dancing away, one of which being the mom of the bride, and the other being the mom of me. And you know what? If I can say that I watched my mom dance on a stage at a wedding and it didn’t cause me a shred of embarrassment, and even the opposite, some pride, I think that includes me in a special class of son. And I can say that.

I have a few more top-tier anecdotes to share with you from the wedding. As far as the romance with M goes, if you’re looking for a resolution, you’re not gonna’ get it.. Not yet, anyways. This story is ongoing. But for all who are invested, know that I am doing my best with the M lottery I’ve won, and am on the case, to seeing this Pisces.. Oh yeah, Pisces.. I forgot about that. We did talk a bit on the dance floor after I got her number. She asked what my sign was, and based on her reaction I guess I had the right answer, which was Scorpio. She told me she was a Pisces, and the next day I Googled “Scorpio and Pisces”, and guess what? “Highly compatible.” The stars are on our side.

I didn’t have much of a chance to speak with Julie, the bride, either (they should be the two most popular people at a wedding, after all), but we had a moment of bonding out on the dance floor, and I said hey and gave her a hug and she said, “You know this is because of you, right?” And I said, “What?” And she said, “We met each other at your house!” And I said, in shock, “I did this??” “You did this!!” (I know I didn’t do it. They did it, and my parents did it because it was their house.. but hey, I’ll take it.)

At the bar, The Upstairs, after the ceremony, I moved my way into the back, after talking with a couple who started off the conversation with, “You and M were looking really cute together..!” And that’s when I said, joking, but also not, “Ok, what’s going on here? Was there some kind of conspiracy about M and I going on?” And the husband told me, “We were all wondering who was going to win the M-lottery.” And his final words to me in that conversation were, “You gotta follow up man. You gotta follow up.” But, at The Upstairs, and I had made my way back into the corner of the deck that our wedding party had taken over, I made it to Emily, and Haylee (sorry Haylee if misspelled!!), and Haylee was in the middle of a hilarious bit about none of her coworkers knowing any of the modern country stars. “Who is this? It’s Morgan fing Wallen. It’s fing __” (insert the name of another country star I don’t know. I was actually standing there sweating because I didn’t know these people either.) But, we were cracking up, and she finished it with, “City people are weird, man.” And I looked over at Emily and said, “Yeah, city people are weird.” And she laughed, and Haylee caught on, and said, “Wait, where are you from?” And Emily said, “New York City..” And they laughed, and so that Haylee didn’t feel too bad, she quickly added, “But I grew up in Elkhart.” (Elkhart, not quite New York City.) I agree with you though Haylee. City people are weird.

There were many fun interactions on that deck. I talked with Steve, the father of the groom, about his name, and what his given name was (Steve or Steven) and if he had always been Steve or had at some point switched over, as another friend (Jared) had been asking me if I was or wanted to be a Steve or Steven and what people called me. Steve said he’d always been Steve, although his legal name was Steven, and he would only hear Steven from his mom when he was in (serious) trouble. His advice was that I stick to Steven, because it sounded more modern. After this, Steve gave me an earnest compliment and told me that he respected my willingness to go abroad and live in another country. His oldest son did the same and lived for several years in Thailand. That meant a lot to me, and we talked about travel and I asked if he had wanted to live abroad when he was younger, and he said it just wasn’t really an option, coming from a traditional family, and with a family business to run, (that he had inherited), but he was making up for it now, and told me about his upcoming travel plans. The last place he mentioned was Montana, a place I really want to go, and we talked about it, and eventually of course, as boys will be boys, started talking about hunting animals and eating meat, and he was telling me that the best meat he’d ever had was caribou. That’s an exotic one, and I’ve never heard of anyone eating caribou. Steve said it was something like turkey. He was really selling it to me then, and as he was talking about it, I knew I had something good for him. When he was finished describing the deliciousness of caribou to me, I told him the most exotic meat I had eaten, which was badger, and he said, “Badger??” And I said, “Yeah. It was terrible.” (It was pretty terrible. Tough, really tough. Who knows, that may have been the chef’s fault though, Osajima San, a cool photographer farmer guy back in Taketa.)

There was another Stephen at the wedding, a UK lad. We bonded over both being Steven, and then later at the bar, right after I finished talking with Steve, Stephen came over and said, “Steven!!” And I said, “Shit, you remember my name?” And he said, “We have the same name!” And I was like, “Oh yeah!” And he said, “You’re Stephen, with a ph too right?” (We had talked about it when we first met because I asked him, when he said his name was Stephen, “Ph or v?”) I looked over at Morgan, who knew I was not a Stephen but a Steven, and I looked back at Stephen, so enthusiastic and friendly, and I said, “Hell yeah I am!” And we did some kind of bro-touch-thing. That’s a white lie worth telling right there, and for the rest of the night I wasn’t Steve or Steven, but Stephen.

Alright, I just want to tell you Adam and I’s Fortnite story now, but before that, for the sake of literature, I have to write a few more things.

On the deck at The Upstairs, I was talking with Adam about M. We had a pocket of space, and were facing away from the horde, and leaning against the wooden deck rail, looking out into the street. We were talking about M and he said, “Hey, if you guys get married, I’m your best man.” And I said, “You got it bud.” And we shook on it. So I also secured my best man this weekend.

After all of this, driving back from the weekend, having seen so many friends, family, and with these feelings for M, I started to feel something stirring deep within me. I don’t know if it was all because of M, or also the setting, or my age, but for the first time in my life I was having what I was calling “primal urges”. Deep genes had been activated, and these deep, ancient genes were telling me to get money, have status, move up, have power, be successful and strong, leave my small apartment with the roommates and have land, have a house, so that I can provide and protect my woman, and have 10 kids and a family. These were really powerful feelings, strong, seizing me, and I was envisioning it all clearly. No more f***ing around, for her sake. Something has now been unlocked in me, and here we are, now four days later, as I write this (now almost two weeks later), and I still haven’t wasted my time once, and am wholly committed to my goals. Now, more than ever, I have to get it done. It’s not just for me anymore.

That’s how I feel. This wedding might have just taken me from Charmeleon to Charizard.

I was having some other primal urges about M, but for your sake.. I won’t go into them.

Now, I tell you the Fortnite story, and I am so excited to write this. I had actually forgotten about this one, but it came back to me at the wedding, and it was one of Adam and I’s first wins together as a duo.

From the start, Adam and I have been pretty solid, and were always placing highly in the game. There are 100 players in a battle Royale match, that’s 50 teams of 2 if you’re playing with a duo. Adam and I would do well, often making it to the top 20%, final 10 players, but we were getting bodied in the final battles. A big part of that is because we had no plan. I recently went on a 10 minute rant to my poor roommate, Hope, who was again, trapped (crocheting), and had to listen to my passionate and inspired speech on Fortnite tactics. Once you know how to aim and shoot, tactics are 95% of the game. (If you’re not playing in build mode, where building is 100% of the game.) And especially at the end of the game, when shit hits the fan, you want to have a plan. Now, in this particular match, Adam and I did not have a plan, and so when shit hit the fan, as there is always a moment late in the game where the strongest teams are left, and eventually converge on one final battleground, usually forced together by the storm (a region of purple death that saps your life and gradually encloses on the island throughout the game). So, when the firestorm broke out, I think there were about 5 teams left, and Adam and I had been in a car, in hot pursuit of another duo in their car, trying to gun them down, and we ended up chasing them down in a river at the bottom of a ravine. Now, Adam has since been banned from driving (by me) for his intense love of driving through rivers. When for the 4th or 5th time we were playing together, and Adam was driving through a river, which are all situated at the bottoms of ravines and canyons and ditches, meaning you’re trapped in them, and at low elevation, which is 100% BAD tactics, I said to Adam, “Adam, why are we in the river?” And he said, “Uh… I don’t know.” But the real event that got Adam banned from driving was that we had one match where I had done most of the driving, and Adam was manning our grenade launcher, and things were going well for us. We pulled up on a three-way firefight happening down in a village, and we were in perfect position on a hill overlooking the fight. High elevation, where we could watch the other teams duke it out, snipe, and lob grenades from the launcher, like an artillery unit. Adam stepped out of the car to do some sniping, so I took over the grenade launcher, and was firing away, when he said, “They’re at the Reboot van. Let’s go get ’em.” And before I knew what was happening, Adam had gotten into the driver’s seat, floored us right off the top of the hill and straight down into the hornet’s nest, and ramming us directly into the side of a three-story building, that was the main focus of the fighting, whereupon we were immediately beset on all sides, from the roof, from the windows, from the van, and being so close to everything, I could no longer even fire the grenade launcher without killing myself and destroying the car, and within five seconds of driving us off that hill, our car was in ruins and both of us were eliminated. I was actually pissed after that, and Adam was banned from driving.

In this story that I’m telling you now, Adam hadn’t been banned yet. That’s how we ended up stuck at the bottom of a ravine, in a river, trapped under an overpass, and as soon as we hit the river, and our prey had escaped to the left, climbing up the embankment and driving off, we ended up in the storm. At this stage, the storm meant swift death, and when you’re enveloped in that purple, you have one priority – get out. We ditched the car, and it became every man for himself. I tried to go left to climb out of the river but the embankment was too steep. Now, I wrote this before, in my last Fortnite story, but although my health bar was tanking way too fast, I wasn’t totally panicking, because I had my trusty shockwave grenades that can send you hurdling in any direction you want to go. I had 6 of them to use to get the hell out of this storm, but first, I had to get out of the ravine. Complicating things was the fact that there was the overpass above me, so I couldn’t just blast up and out. I had to run around, and so I ran to the left, like I said, but found the ravine wall too steep to climb. I tried to use a grenade to blast out, but I couldn’t go high enough, and I slid right back down into the river. F***. One grenade down, my health bar is lower, and the clock is ticking. I run back under the overpass and to the right embankment, and found it wasn’t as steep. I threw down a grenade and managed to blast myself out, and I was now on the edge, and could see out before me. The storm had continued to close, and there was a lot of purple in front of me, and two cars driving around, and gunfire. I had to go this way, I had to clear the storm, and so I then blasted myself, once, twice, watching my health bar ticking down, three times, I was not going to make it, four times, and on the fifth and final shockwave grenade, I was just out of the reach of the storm, and at the last possible second. I was down to 1 health. One single second more and I would have been done for. Now, the immediate priority having been taken care of, escaping the storm, I got my bearings. It wasn’t pretty. The two cars driving around, guns blazing, at least two players firing away to my right, and Adam somehow out in the mayhem, he having made it out further than I did, but he was down for the count, crawling around pathetically on his hands and knees. I needed cover, now, and to my left there was a small house with a gas station attached. I managed to dash across the road and get inside without being shot, or apparently, noticed, because nobody came for me. I had 3 medkits, and used one to patch up. I saw that Adam came crawling through the garage door. Somehow he hadn’t been finished off either. I healed up, then revived him, ready at any moment to switch to my shotgun and blast anyone who came in through the door, and tossed him a medkit. Both of us healed up and ready to fight again, coming back from the brink, we left the house. While we had been taking shelter, one car had been destroyed, and there were 5 players left now. The car gunner eliminated a player as Adam and I crossed the road. We blasted the car, and after making a few passes at us, it blew up, and Adam took down the first player to get out of the car. The second player made an escape. They had the Nitro Fists, steampunk mechanical fists of death that can propel you into the air and send you flying around like a superhero. They had launched themselves up and over the road, on the other side of the hill. Adam and I chased, back across the road and onto the other side. As soon as I had hurdled the hill, the Nitro Fister turned on me and charged to pound my face in, but Adam was there, and after I was punched once or twice, Adam gunned them down, and that was it. The match was over. We were the victors, the last team standing, and the golden #1 popped up onto the screen.

And that’s it. That’s the Fortnite story, one of Adam and I’s most glorious wins, scavenged out of adrenaline, impulse, bad tactics and chaos. You can have at most 250 health and shields combined, and we had gone all the way down to 1, with a player down, and pulled it back. That’s a special duo right there.

Well, that’s about it for the wedding. Coming back and in the days after, I’ve been thinking, or rather it made me feel strongly that what’s really important in life is family, friends, and love. And then rocking out, because Disturbed helped me to get there, music made the night of dancing, and I played guitar for three straight hours, not putting it down for a second as soon as I made it home, shredding through my repertoire and learning “Poor Aileen” by Superheaven, one of my new favorites, in Eb standard. My creative batteries were fully charged, and within 48 hours I had written all of this, and learned two new songs on guitar, and written one of my own. I even went on a run, and I haven’t done that for at least a year and a half, and I was wheezing and suffering, but we made it through. I really wish I could see all of these people more often, my homies, that we all lived together in the same city, that we could introduce each other to new loves, partners, go out, have game nights, like a good sitcom.. but that’s the way of the world. We’ve got jobs to do, ambitions to fulfill, dreams to chase, and they take us where we have to go. But for that weekend, we could all be together again, and that’s a beautiful thing.