Friday, June 5, 2009

Señor Lonely Pony

Last weekend was one of the loneliest weekends I’ve ever had. I’m fine now, but only after some serious effort to get back to the cheerful mental state I was in before (cough). Let me back up a little bit… I attended a wedding in Michigan. Alone.

Rule #1) Never attend an out of state wedding by yourself.


I leave Saturday morning on shitty footing. I get very little sleep and am awakened quite viciously by loud thumps. Apparently, they're renovating the roof on my apartment building. Awesome. If you haven’t woken up at 7:45am to biblical-scale hammering, you haven’t truly lived. I drink coffee and try to shit but can’t, what with the barrage of yelling and pounding. So, I hit the road all backed up. (How do Iraqis shit with the all the tension and violence going on? If I lived there, I’d have 53 pounds of feces stuck in my colon by now. Just saying.)

Rule #2) Never start a road trip while constipated.


Onward to Michigan, listening to Tom Waits along the way. Mr. Waits doesn't help. Check into the hotel, situated within a commercial complex, complete with a Buffalo Wild Wings, a Starbucks, and an Outback Steakhouse. The complex is strategically placed in the middle of nowhere. Loneliness is a foregone conclusion.


Get dressed. Go to the ceremony. Make awkward chit-chat with the just married. Don't talk to anybody else. Eat a sandwich. Go back to the hotel. Watch “The Invasion”. Try to take a nap. Fail. Go to the reception.

At the reception is when the alienation digs its claws into me. I don’t speak to anyone, nor am I spoken to for most of the night. I’ve been around people all day, interacting with none of them. I try to converse with the bride and groom, but they are very busy with wedding crap. Add music and kids running around, and I’m completely disoriented and uneasy. I end up watching hockey at the bar.


Side note: The people who got married read this blog. Or at least one of them does. So I must make it clear that they hold absolutely no responsibility for my despair. It was a set of circumstances that sucked a mean dog dick. Not your fault. I love you guys.

That being said, attending their wedding was one of the worst decisions I’ve made recently. Weddings are stressful, phony, and crush the spirit of love that brought the couple together in the first place. Weddings are not enjoyable for the people getting married, being paraded around like livestock for all to behold, and they're not particularly enjoyable for the people attending the wedding either. What brainless monster created this bullshit?!

Rule#3) Marriage fine. Wedding bad.


I get back to the hotel, exhausted from the whole day. A baby repeatedly screams in the hallway at a measured rhythm. I get out of bed and go to the grocery store to buy some candy. A guy wearing an Insane Clown Posse shirt is smoking out front. Inside, half a dozen pregnant women dwell. Everyone is unhappy. I buy gummy raspberries and get the fuck out of there.

Back at the hotel, I eat my stupid candy and watch “Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay”. It’s not funny when you’re all alone, and possibly not funny at all. An Indian couple argues in the hallway. I fall asleep at around 1:30am.

Wake up at 10am. Hit the road at noon. Blinding sunlight and traffic. Get home at 4. Flick the light switch, but no lights turn on. No power. Dudes tearing up the roof on Saturday must’ve blown a fuse and never replaced it. I have to throw away most of the food in my fridge. I call my landlord, who is sympathetic and agrees to reimburse me for the spoiled food. This is the first conversation I’ve had all day, and it’s a short, businesslike one. I watch TV for a few hours and go to bed. Weekend over.


Being brutally bored and having no one to talk to is one of the worst feelings possible. Last weekend, I felt like I was 15 again.


Pancake Master said...

That sounds pretty danged excruciating, Kid Douche. Next time, just bring a hot date, know whu'm sayin'?

Anonymous said...

It doesn't get any more awkward than a 100 pound girl in a 50 pound dress pretending to be polite. And the dancing...oh, the dancing.

Matt and Jeanie said...

that just sucks. come to st. louis.

Pancake Master said...

Matt and Jeanie are correct also.