My Best Friend's Wedding:
The Boardwalk
It all began on
an extremely hot and sunny day on the thirteenth of May, in the year of
our Lord two thousand. The service was underway by four in the afternoon,
shortly after I arrived at the Panama City Garden Club. My best friend
Eric Preston would finally wed his high school sweetheart, Carla Hill.
Beneath the shade of the trees we sat, as the wedding began.
Scanning the blissful congregation for familiars,
I caught the eyes of my friend Noel Perryman in the back row. Noel
was my commander in Air Force Junior ROTC. She started high school
at age thirteen or so, and was Group Commander by her senior year.
She ruled us with an iron fist or two, and took lip from no one.
As the story continues, my group of friends used to hook up with an Electronic
Bulletin Board System, where we would write messages and conversations
to one another, and send this new thing called e-mail from computer to
computer. We also used to hang out at the local Shoney's on Friday
nights, drink coffee, and get silly. One Friday back in 1994, as
I walked from my car to the restaurant, Captain Perryman, shows up out
of nowhere, and I'm thinking "to what do I owe this pleasure?" Well,
she was the unknown user. During the vows, she walked over and stood
with me so we could chat. Now tell me back in ninety-four that that
would happen in a million years.
Seated in the same section was Elizabeth Williams
who I managed to gesture a few smiles out of. She was looking as
beautiful as we'd ever seen her. Beth was loosely associated with
the same computer group. Her brother Sean has known Eric since grade
school, and I've known the two of them since probably eleventh grade.
I once stayed at their house until about two in the morning playing Star
Fleet Command on Sean's Super Nintendo. It was me against the bulletin
board's System Operator, and we were both Klingon ships. Well, we
cloaked, and ended up going in opposite directions. It took about
two hours just to find him so I could shoot him. It got to the point
where we were like "OK, let me know if you see my laser shot..."
A violinist performed during the procession, a refreshing change from the
standard organ sound. He played several classical selections, some
of which I believe were Mozart. He helped to distract from the amount
of shutter clicking I committed behind the congregation. I was told
not to shoot during the service itself, especially if a flash was involved.
I probably could have gotten away with a shot or two if the camera had
featured a manual winder. Unfortunately, the hum of the automation
would have produced dirty looks. I wasn't up for disturbing the natural
flow.
The boardwalk in front of the seats became the infamous "aisle" that all
men fear. From this bridge, the groom-to-be emerged. I had
never seen Eric in a tuxedo before, but he makes all his clothes look like
the next big thing. It's sort of a Will Smith phenomenon. He
could be wearing a giant burlap sack with "booger" written on the front,
and girls would still flock around him hoping for a glimpse. Lucky
for all of us, those days are over. He came to me for love advice
once in the tenth grade. "Oh Quark, she's so beautiful! What
shall I ever do?" I told him to go say hi. Life is too short
to kick around the can all day long and avoid human companionship over
a few neurons in the stomach. Next day comes, "Hey Quark! I
said hi, and we've started talking! I think I'm going to ask her
out!" I congratulated him for believing in himself and following
through with his feelings. "So why don't you ever take your own advice
and talk to women more often?" he asks me. Well, that's a very complex...
hey, isn't there a wedding going on?
Finally we see the three groomsmen, who look professional, serious, and
handsome. As Noel confided to me, "They certainly clean up well."
Seeing as this is the shortest any of their hairdos have ever been, and
no one is wearing a heavy metal T-shirt, I heartily agree. From left
to right are the minister, Eric, Sean Preston (Eric's brother), Justin
Hooks, and Sean Williams. With obvious exception, everybody in the
photo was on the BBS at some point in time, Eric being the granddaddy of
us all. Justin's still the spring chicken in my book. He joined
up within the last few months or so of the board's dwindling existence,
as we all slowly began distancing ourselves from the power-starved system
operator. Eric, on the other hand, discovered the bulletin board
in the first place, back when it was still very much private access, and
no one was even supposed to have the number. What a hacker.
In any case, these guys are the epitomy of cool. I'll never forget
the laughs we used to have when they'd load my coffee with chili powder
and saccharin sweetener. I hate saccharin.
Finally, along came Carla, looking far too radiant for a mere roll of Kodak
200. As much as I regret it, Eric and I had a bit of a falling-out
in the latter part of eleventh grade, and I don't believe I said a single
word to him or Carla throughout our senior year. This is the hippie-looking
kid that started talking sci-fi with me on the first day of school, and
never really stopped until then. I don't like to think back to what
I call the "dark year." All that really stands out is that friends
were lost and enemies gained, all in the name of arrogance. Carla
didn't even really meet me until I moved to Orlando in 1996. Her
mom, her brother, Eric, and she came down for a gardening convention, and
we met at Universal Studios. We all had a great time, and I hope
some day we can do it again. Heck, I love gardening.
Onward to the Dance.
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