The End of Bachelorhood for Alpha Team

Welcome back.

In case you missed yesterday's installment, Yours Truly is in Michigan this weekend, celebrating the nuptials of the Sausage Pad's own Zack Smith and - wait for it - a girl.  When last I checked in with you guys, we were preparing to suit up for the wedding, and, as you can probably imagine, with the reception following thereafter, I wasn't about to sit down in front of my laptop and start uploading pictures.

Pssh.

Heading to Lawton. . .

Anyway, once we were all suited up and ready to roll, Joe, Seloske and I drove out together from the hotel for the Lawton Community Center.  Now, at some point in time, Zack had placed me in charge of 'the orange juice.'  That was the one thing I was supposed to grab and bring with me to the wedding.  The frickin' orange juice.

Well, as you can probably guess, I forgot to bring the Goddamn orange juice.  God help us all.  Realizing my error, Zack was convinced his wedding was ruined, and a few of the other groomsmen had to call their wives in order to try and get them to bring the orange juice with them.

Long story short, the juice never got there, and yet the wedding - miraculously - went through as planned.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Loftis and Seloske get mistaken for one another ALL the time. . .

Cleaned up.  Somewhat.

As the case in every wedding I've had the honor of being a part of, in the hour leading up to the wedding ceremony, the bridal party was shuffled around and separated from the groomsmen.  It took us awhile to put on our chimp suits, so we staked out the museum as our groomsmen headquarters and were able to get dressed in an antique barbershop. . . which, ya know, is what it is.

Remember how I said earlier how I had skipped on the whole 'stop at the tux place on your way to Paw Paw in order to make sure your tux fits' thing?  Remember that?  And Seloske and I stopped off at Bell's Brewery in Kalamazoo instead?  Remember?  Well, my pants were about two inches too short. . . so I had to sag a little in order to avoid the Flood Pants look.  Awesome.

After the bridal party was done with the hired camera jockey, it was our turn.  The photographer wanted to shoot outside, amidst the fall leaves and all that crap.  She had taken roughly 1500 pictures of the bride, from what we could tell, and then proceeded to take about, oh, twelve of us.  Not sure why, exactly - I think we're a pretty non-ugly group of guys.  I mean, all of us are married with children. . . that's got to count for something, right?

Standing around, waiting for our forced portraits with the groom. . .

Nothing out of the ordinary, here.

In the museum, waiting for the wedding to start.

Sausage Pad co-founder Damon Loftis and his offspring/ringbearer, Logan.

The ceremony itself was pretty cut and dry, and I didn't have my camera out for it (as I was a groomsman, and that'd just be tacky. . . I assume.)  If you close your eyes and picture 'standard wedding,' and then also think of 'Brian Hough as a groomsman,' you'll probably be hitting within the 95% quartile for accuracy.  The ceremony was short and sweet, and soon enough we found ourselves with an hour or so to kill before we entered into the reception hall.

Storms'a brewin'. . .

Double rainbows in the sky?  Zack Smith must be present.

Unfortunately, this gigantor wine cask was empty.  We were not pleased.

Now, usually there's a plate dinner served for wedding guests.  Zack and Renee opted out of this, and instead went with h'ordeuvres. . . which were mostly eaten up by the plebeian guests before the wedding party itself had even entered into the reception area.  During the period of time when the rest of the wedding guests were eating our room, and Zack and Renee endured a few hundred 'candid' wedding couple shots, the groomsmen retreated up to the bar to catch up on some Bell's Two-Hearted Ale and the MSU/U of M game (honestly, I had little interest in the game, but I'm a big fan of Two-Hearted.)

Eventually, once we had downed a few beers and had a few mandatory wedding pictures taken, the bridal party - led by Yours Truly and his female counterpart - made their way into the reception.  There, all the usual hoop-lah traditions were carried out in great fanfare, as they were at my wedding, and as they were at yours, I'm sure.  The DJ made his announcements while playing his 'dining mix' playlist, wedding guests got up for seconds while we poor wedding party personnel scrounged for whatever random table scraps were left, Loftis, as best man, made a speech (which was good), people wrapped their keys on the glass centerpieces so Zack could make out with his wife (as they lacked the silverware and glassware to do so), etc. etc.

Awaiting food.

Now, once everyone had food in their system, and all reception traditions had been carried out in their just manner, people began to disperse amongst tables, to the bar, etc.  I didn't take nearly as many pictures as I would've liked, mainly due to the fact that my Canon PowerShot doesn't fare too well in low-lighting, but here's a little from the evening's reception:

Wedding party.

Loftis gives his Best Man speech.  To summarize, Smith owes SuperGay Matt DeMay a set of golf clubs.

Shane, Smitty, and Loftis.

Holy crap, it's Shanna?!

Honestly, it was only a matter of time before the Sausage Pad got bored drinking around Zack and Renee's relatives and began to trickle down into the museum below the reception hall.  First stop, the Ol' Timey Barbershop, where a fella can get a shave and a haircut for two bits.

To be fair, it's really their fault for not keeping an authentic World War I uniform behind glass.

Saddling up to the bar. . .

The Sausage Pad, ca. 1947.

Loftis will eat a cupcake or two. . .

Saying adieu to Z Smithers at the end of the night.

Once the kegs had run dry, the groomsmen and a few other of the wedding guests opted to hit up a random bar in Paw Paw.  Unfortunately for us, for whatever reason, everyone inside this bar was dressed up in a Halloween costume.  Furthermore, they seemed to be all between the ages of 18 and 24. . . which made us about ten years older than the oldest people in the bar.

There used to be a time when this sort of situation would've made me feel uncomfortable, but, as I progress into my mid-30s, I've fully embraced my 'grumpy old man-ishness.'  When we got up to the bar, I ordered a 'red ale,' which, given the other options (budweiser, bud light, mike's hard lemonade, watered down margaritas, etc. etc. - high school drinks, really), I figured it was a wise choice.  What I ended up getting was far from my own definition of a 'red ale,' however, and instead was something more likened to a Seagrams wine cooler.

During the tirade that followed, I paid for my drink, cursed out a few of the college kids drinking around me, and stormed out.

I love being a grumpy old beer snob.

I had no part of this.  I'm the respectable sort.

We had better luck at the next place, which, coincidentally, we had been too the night before.  This time, however, we only stayed for an hour or so before getting funned out of cheap beer and obnoxious pop-country (or whatever the heck you call country music these days.)  Soon, we found ourselves having a nightcap back in my hotel room, drinking Zack's precious orange juice and whatever we had on hand to mix it with.

Like a bunch of high schoolers.

Good ol' I-94.

The next morning, after saying our farewells to Zack, Renee, and all their assorted relatives, the Seloskes and I loaded up into their Aztec and headed back down I-94 for Detroit.  Once we had gotten about, oh, twenty miles down the highway, however, Seloske's wife Sarah realized she had forgotten their son's GameBoy charger underneath one of their hotel room's tables. . . so we had to turn around and drive back for it.  

Coming back into the black hole that is Paw Paw, MI.

By the time we had re-reached (is that a word?) our old position on the highway, an hour had passed, and we found ourselves coming into what would prove to be an hour-long traffic jam, just outside of Jackson. . .

After about an hour, we finally reached the source of the build-up.

I couldn't help but pat myself on the back for not opting to fly out the day after the wedding, instead giving me a day to recuperate and relax in the Detroit area.  There would've been no way in hell I would've made a flight that morning, not with the luck we were having.

Evidently a trailer exploded. . . or something.  I don't know.  The crap was all over the road, though.

I'm a huge fan of antique stores. . .

Back in Livonia, Seloske and I decided to hit up a few stores throughout the afternoon.  We both wanted to check out Toys R Us for Christmas ideas for our kids. . . plus I wanted to pick something up for the girls, as I usually like to have something in hand for when I come back from a trip.  

This guy should really reconsider his vinyl record pricing. . .

Following that, we hit up an old antique joint called Yesterday's Antiques and Collectibles, which was somewhat overpriced, but they had a pretty cool selection of stuff on hand.  I ended up picking up five records (the Beatles' Rubber Soul, the old Disney Christmas Favorites album I grew up with as a kid, a classic honky tonk compilation from Columbia called The Big Hits!, Grand Funk Railroad's Greatest Hits, and an old wartime record full of naval/combat sounds/recordings called Victory at Sea for $15, which wasn't bad, but definitely more than I usually like to spend.

After the antique joint, we ran a couple errands, which included swinging by an old GamePlay store, where they sell used NES, SNES, N64, Sega Genesis, and PS2 games.  For $20, I scored two SNES games, two N64 games, and two PS2 games. . . I was pretty excited about this.

Heaven in a box. . .

That night, back at Case de Seloske, we decided to crack open our Kalamazoo IPAs we had purchased at Bell's a couple nights earlier, and chase them with a few select craft beers that he had been holding onto for just such an occassion.  While partaking in this awesomeness, I convinced him into letting me check out the deleted scenes on the Star Wars Blu-Ray set.

Craft beer and Star Wars?  You can imagine I was a pretty satisfied houseguest.  Here's a few of what we tried. . .

Decent, but nothing I'd go out of my way to pick up again. . .

This was awesome - one of the best stouts I've ever had.  Only wish they had it down here in Florida. . .

The 4th highest rated beer in the world last year.  Even though it was great, I still liked the Breakfast stout better.

The next morning, bright and early, Sara dropped me off at the airport on her way to work, and, once again, I found myself sitting around an airport for a few hours before my plane was scheduled to depart.

VRROOOOOOMMMMM

This time, however, it was due to Spirit's incomp-etency - what should've been a two-hour wait for Yours Truly ended up pushing four hours, due to a flight delay that didn't see me finally touching down in Orlando until nearly 5pm.  By that point, I had taken quite a dent out of Woodard's The Republic of Pirates, caught up on some writing and lesson planning, and thoroughly organized the weekend's photos.

. . .And now, dear readers, I'm going to sit on my couch and do nothing until I have to get up and work tomorrow morning.

Good day.

- Brian

The Sausage Pad Rides Again..

I'm pretty good at packing for adventure.

Hi folks.

Well, nobody really saw it coming, but Hell apparently froze over and the one and only Zack Smith - co-founder of the Sausage Pad and fellow Alpha Team combatant - is finally getting hitched.

To a girl, even.  Who'd a thunk it.

Anyway, Zack was good enough to give me a few months notice at least. . . which gave me a nice, thin window of time in order to purchase planet tickets, a hotel room, a tuxedo, etc. etc.  Lots of fun.  Being the complete idiot that I am, I booked my flight with Spirit Airlines, which I had never flown with before, and - having experienced their terrible customer service, midget seating on the plane, and fascist bag policy - will NEVER fly with again.

 Those assholes are to airlines what Episode I is to Star Wars.  Seriously.

Anyway, I took Friday off of work (hooray), as my flight was at 10am that morning in order to be at the wedding rehearsal in the late afternoon.

Unfortunately, Kris and the girls were forced to drop me off at the airport on their way to work, which put me there around 6:45am.  I was forced to check a bag, as Spirit charges more for a carry-on bag than they do a checked bag (don't ask me why, I'm pretty sure their company is run by chimps), so my 'personal item' was a painless stripped-down briefcase that allowed me to breeze through security in under five minutes.

F*** you, Spirit.

Temporary command center.

While this was cool and everything, I found myself sitting down at my gate by 7:00am.

And there I would sit for the next three hours, awaiting the boarding call for my flight.  Cowabunga.

When it was time to board, as stated before, I was placed in a seat that was evidently designed for hobbits.  At 5' 9", I've never been considered 'towering,' nor have I ever been nick-named 'stretch.'  Yet there I was, with zero leg room, crammed into a chair better-suited for my daughters.  Thankfully, having woken up at the ass-crack of dawn in order to make it to the airport in time (ha), I was pretty exhausted, so I was able to fall asleep for the first half of the flight.  During the last hour from Orlando to Detroit, I devoured the first couple chapters of Colin Woodard's The Republic of Pirates (if you're as big of fan of pirates as Yours Truly, do yourself a favor and check it out ASAP - it's awesome.)

Upon landing in cloudy Detroit, I promptly froze my ass off, having not been accustomed to weather in the high-40s for some time.  The Seloskes met me as I came out of the terminal, and together we drove out of the Detroit area down I-94 towards Paw Paw, MI (don't worry, we hadn't heard of it either - it's about a half-hour outside of Kalamazoo.)

My pictures, taken from a handheld Canon PowerShot (I didn't feel like lugging my SLR with me this time around) from a moving vehicle, didn't really turn out all that well.  If you're interested in seeing pictures of southern Michigan in the fall, I suggest you try Google.

While en route to Paw Paw, I took an obnoxious amount of pictures of the fall leaves changing colors (believe it or not, palm trees don't change colors, and I hadn't seen this in nearly seven years.)  While on the way west, Zack began calling us about picking up our tuxes - he wanted us to meet him in Kalamazoo in order to try them on and make sure they fit.  In all my years of wearing tuxedos in other people's weddings, I've only once tried on a tux prior to wearing it.  They're usually pretty good with sizing people, so Seloske and I convinced Zack to just pick up my tux so that we could continue on without stopping.

It'd been about seven or eight years since I last ventured into the 'Zoo. . .

Okay, I didn't take this (it was rainy when we drove through), but my picture didn't turn out well.

But, as we approached Kalamazoo - my old stomping ground from my college days at Western Michigan University - we stopped anyway.  Bell's Brewery, as you may or may not know, is located in downtown K-Zoo, and is an exceptional brewery.  I spent a lot of time there in college, and wanted to swing by the general store at the very least in order to pick up a couple big bottles and some merch.

MEIJER !!!

Scenic Paw Paw, MI.

Having purchased a couple bumper stickers, a Kala-mazoo IPA, and a Bell's snifter glass, we headed back onto I-4 for the last half-hour of the trek to Paw Paw.  Zack and Renee (the chick he's marrying) reserved a block of rooms at a Comfort Inn, and I'd be staying with Zack for Friday night, then taking over the room on Saturday night once he moved onto the bridal suite.  This kept the cost down, and freed up more funds for boozery and shopping (which I'm a big fan of.)

Comfort Inn

We settled into the rooms and hung out with folks as they began to trickle in.  Yet before we had an opportunity to catch up over drinks, we lucky few in the wedding party had to soldier through the boring-as-usual-but-somewhat-necessary wedding rehearsal.  They were getting married at the Lawton Community Center, which was an old winery with a random museum in the basement.  Not really the sort of place you would expect Zack Smith to get married in, but whatever.

Check it out:

Wedding hall

The stairwell to the right leads up to the reception hall.  Renee will come out from there during the ceremony, and afterwards that's where the bridal party makes it's entrance into the reception.  Hopefully nobody falls and breaks something - the stairs themselves are questionable.

Yokin' around in the men's room.

Underneath the previously discussed staircase, there's a whole subterranean world very similar to Total Recall. . . except instead of a Martian ghetto, it's a throwback to southern Michigan during the 1930s - 50s.

Being a fan of all things 'ol'-timey' and 'historical,' I was pretty entertained walking around and checking all this crap out.  They had the whole wing of the building divided up into themed rooms (a soda fountain, a barber shop, a school, a winery, a residence, a general store, a barn, a shop, etc.)

What was really crazy was that the whole basement was going to be open to the public during the entirety of  Zack and Renee's wedding and reception. . .  

. . . I mean, what could possibly go wrong with a bunch of drunken college buddies getting together for the first time in years, amidst a museum full of antiques?

70-year-old graffiti carved into an old school desk.  Like the graffiti on my desks at work, it's still gang-related.

The rehearsal itself was drawn out and painfully boring.  Anyone who has ever been in a wedding understands what they're supposed to do, where they're supposed to stand, and how they're supposed to walk.  It's beyond common sense, yet for reasons that escape me we were there for nearly two hours.  Doing nothing but standing around while random family members asked retarded questions that didn't need to be asked.

When our service finally drew to a close, we all headed back towards the Comfort Inn for the rehearsal dinner (Subway sandwiches and Bud Light - I'll take it.)  While we sat around catching up and pre-drinking, Zack passed out the groomsmen gifts (engraved pocket watches and black fishing caps, matching his signature hat he's worn since he was 18.)  Around this time, Smitty and Rita showed up, so once everyone was done eating all us dudes decided to bar-hop around Paw Paw for awhile.

The first place we stopped at - a random sports bar - was closing in an hour, so we all ordered a drink and then had to pack up.  They kinda bum-rushed us out of there, but at least were courteous enough to point us in the direction of another spot to check out.  Now, this new joint wasn't as 'classy' as the last place - it was definitely a dive bar - but the beer was cheap and I couldn't tell you who was buying it.  All I know is that the next morning I check the receipts in my wallet and found that I had spent a whopping $7 for the whole night.

Ya can't beat that, folks.

Seloske, Smitty, and Joe

The groom himself, Mr. Smith

Loftis, prepared to rip his sweatshirt off. . .

See the guy on the left?  He's putting it to Zack's sister.  Hooray for brothers-in-law!

We got a room with a view this time around.

Kris and the girls, via Skype after I woke up. . . oddly enough after 9am.  It's crazy how much you sleep in the minute you don't have little kids around.

This Comfort Inn had one of the best complimentary breakfasts I had seen in awhile - we took full advantage of it.

This is arguably the scariest thing I've ever seen.

Later on in the morning, once everyone had showered off the previous night and gotten some coffee in their systems, the groomsmen followed Zack back over to the Lawton Community Center, where we had to start setting up the reception area.  Basically all this entailed of was filling up plastic cups full of table mints and Hershey's kisses.  'Cause Smith's classy like that.

From the balcony overlooking the wedding area (whatever the hell you call that.)

Why not.

Wouldn't be a Sausage Pad wedding without rocking Old Reliable.

I have no idea what they're doing here.

The entrance to the Museum is down the ramp to the left, while the entrance to the reception hall is up to the stairs, at center.

The reception area.

See the wooden stairs off to the back, there?  That leads up to the bar (a.k.a. Sausage Pad Headquarters.)

Where we'll end up sitting later this evening.

This is what I flew 1200 miles across the country to do: fill plastic cups with assorted bulk candy.

The bar.  Lots of the guys are probably going to end up huddling around that TV later, as the big Michigan State, U of M game is on this afternoon/evening.  I'm not a huge sports guy, so this affects me not in the slightest. . .

I may end up playing that piano, too, by the end of the night.  Cross your fingers.

My Mobile Command Center, feat. the legendary Suckie Fish.  

We have about two hours to kill before we have to suit up and head over back to the Lawton Community Center.  I'll be attempt to document all that transpires (within good taste, of course.)

Stay tuned.

- Brian