For the Benefit of Mr. and Mrs. Maverick

Well, I was lucky enough to make it up to my little brother Jeff's wedding reception last weekend (sans wife and kids). Him and his wife, Annie, had gotten hitched back in December, at some Air Force chapel on his base, but had flown back into town in order to throw a reception and nab a ton of free stuff from their guests.

Smart move on their parts - speaking from experience.


Flying anymore these days is a complete disaster. You can't check anything anymore without being charged, you're given shit service, and security is a gauntlet. You know what I'm talkin' about. Fortunately, I lucked out this time around. Despite being stuck to a 400 lb. man wearing a Social Distortion shirt and iNerding on the iPad he probably copulates with, my flight up from Florida was fairly uneventful.


I spent most of the time plugged into an iPod. I'm also in the middle of reading The Histories of Ancient Rome: From the Earliest Times to 476 A.D. on my Kindle right now (which is awesome) - not necessarily a 'beach read,' but for those of you who are obsessed with all things Ancient Rome (*jerks thumbs at self*) its highly recommended - and got a solid chunk of it knocked out on the way up (and back).


Was totally not prepared for the icy, Hoth-chilling winter that awaited me in Michigan, though. Literally. I forgot to pack a winter coat, and stepped off the plane into the Midland/Saginaw International Airport wearing a thin hoodie and a stupid look on my face.

Hooray for me.

My rental was a Chevy Clowncar. Not sure the exact model name but who cares - it's not important. It was smaller than my car - which is saying something - and I drove it a total of 42 miles the entire time I was home (from the airport to my dad's, from my dad's back to the airport).

One of these days I'll spring for a fancier rental - I came close to getting an SUV, out of fear for the icy roads I wasn't accustomed to driving on - but for what I was getting it for this time around, the Clowncar worked well enough.


Everyone who was traveling in for Jeff and Annie's reception made it in to the house throughout the course of the evening.

Having skipped lunch, I reached the house famished. Fortunately, they had ordered Buccelli's, which is what God Himself would eat if He could eat pizza. Pairing this awesomeness with some microbrews brought in from Uncle Larry and Rowley, and it ended up being one, stupendous evening.


The next morning, Blake and Bradley had a wrestling match at the ol' alma mater (alma mater applies to high school too, right?), but Uncle Larry and I didn't get out the door early enough to make it (see: previous night). That ended up being a good thing, though - it turns out those two didn't end up wrestling for two hours after the rest of the family got there. Two hours sitting in the bleachers amidst a bunch of townies wasn't something I would've been pleased with... especially seeing how each of the boys' matches ended up lasting thirty seconds apiece. Not cool.

In the early afternoon, Larry, Rowley and myself decided it was time for a Field Trip. I, myself - as you all know - am a pipe-smoker, and the greatest pipe and tobacco store I've ever set foot in just so happens to be found in nearby Mt. Pleasant: The Smoker's Club.

Now, Rowley and Uncle Larry aren't pipe smokers (nobody's perfect), but they were interested in checking out cigars, so we all headed out to the 'Club, where I bought a new Danish Stanwell pipe and some stem cleaner. Afterwards, we had ourselves a cigar in the lounge... before the CMU Chapter of Douchebaggery (Collegiate Pipe Smokers of Central Michigan) showed up and starting with their club nonsense.

Don't ask me why young people have to form a club to mutually announce 'Look at me, I'm a pipe smoker!' I enjoy it, but I don't rub anyone's face in it - that's obnoxious.

Our last stop of the field trip was the Mt. Pleasant Brewery, where, after some pints of microbrew (I highly recommend the Train Wreck Ale), Rowley nabbed a six pack and we headed back to Clare. With only an hour or so before Jeff and Annie's reception kicked off, we quickly changed and set off for Midland and the Whiting Hall (whatever the hell that is).

The reception itself was simple, with catered or'derves (I don't know how the hell you spell that) and, alas, no booze*. We had to show up early for photographs, and, like an asshole, I was way underdressed. I had said in advance that I wasn't wearing a suit - I don't own one. So, in a sports coat, dress slacks, and my white Adidas, I was more or less showing up in what I always wear to work.

And I looked like an asshole:


That aside, Jeff and Annie's reception was a nice time - lots of folks I, personally, didn't know, but that's to be expected. Like I said before, they kept it small, and that was probably a stroke of genius on their part - by keeping their overhead costs at a minimum, they could just kick back and watch the wedding presents roll in. Here's a slide show of the event: Enjoy.

Totally wish we would've done that for our wedding.


...I could probably go into a lot more detail with all of this, but I feel that I've already typed up a shit-ton as it is. As such, I shall once again direct you to the following web page, where Dad has once again already done all the hard work for me and set up a photo gallery.

Check it out here.

- Brian

* for everyone except Yours Truly and Rowley.