Another summer, another wedding on the North Shore of the Great Lake Superior. It truly is Superior to every other lake. The scenery did not disappoint, the wedding did not disappoint, the reception did not disappoint, and the inimitable KVR most certainly did not disappoint. That dude is gold, and for that fraction of a second when he and the madd scientist shook hands, far-off universes sprang into existence and then faded as we traveled north. I swear ‘fore god those fools could solve every world problem in an hour with enough access to booze and a graphing calculator.
At the campfire on Friday night the great Mystery Marryer, that Lutzen Libre Warrior made an appearence. The toots and tootles from his recorder carried on the wind, and then he was gone: off to the game room to try to win the salivating hordes a Panasonic two-way walkie talkie set. Alas, twas a fool’s errand. Only a complete buffoon would think that a hotel game room puzzle game would be any easier than the rigged carny games of yore. In any case, Quince would sleep well knowing that we HOLLLARIT’d many times between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning.
The ceremony on Saturday was delightful, filled with non-traditional stuff that livened things up. Oh, and butterflies flew. I was there. I saw it.
Yes, yes; moves were busted and buttercups were built up at the reception. I thought the leader of the band (The Howling Hollywoods?) had gone four shades shy of nuts when he handed out the cow bell and then the tambourine to bellygirl. She shook her chris moneymaker like there was no tomorrow, but to her credit she gave up her favorite toy when other people wanted to play. Holy hell her hands were swollen on Sunday; I think Stacy called it Tambourine-Hand.
Later on in the evening we turned the resort beach into Tha Afterparty and kicked it old school with neat scotch and seegars. Also, wwhazz roared out of retirement and ‘acquired’ some booze from the bar to add to the stash. Yes, yes: Cal was Cal. His floppy brown hat was absent, but he made up for it with an enthusiasm for taking pictures the likes of which have never been seen. He even went for a loooong run on Saturday morning while the rest of us went on nature walks and played shuffleboard. I wish we could have ate at Betty’s Pies with him on the way back, *dreamy sigh*.
On the way back down to the mini-apple we also hit Gooseberry Falls for a quick touristy photo op, and then listened as the Cubs put the boot on the Brewers’ throat and squashed it with their heel. *Angry sigh*
Thanks so much to Aaron and Emily for the invite, I was honored to have been a tiny part of the festivities. That’s two years inna row I’ve been to the North Shore in the summer, and damned if that place don’t grow on you. Maddddd shouts to the Scientist also, as I realized only when sitting in the plane to Minnesota that I never actually asked if he would pick me up at the airport or if we could crash at his apartment on Thursday night; I just kinda assumed. Thanks man, I hope we didn’t wreck your place too much. At any rate, I love Alleygators. HOLLLARIT QUINCE!
Sing the following to the tune of the old cavalry bugle song and you’ll be guaranteed to have a great day:
There once was a dog,
and his name was Quince,
and one time he said “HOLLLARIT!”