Posts tagged with "Aaron"
Aaron and Karen's Wedding
Bonding with Dennis and Rob
At the rehearsal dinner I was lucky enough to meet Dennis, Aaron’s older cousin from Edinburgh, Scotland, and we immediately hit it off. Some people don’t so much talk with you as at you, whereas talking to others can be like dragging a stick through the mud, but for us it was the perfect balance. The art of conversation is dead, we agreed, and finding each other was like two Masonic brothers from different lodges meeting for the first time.
Pat later told me that, on arriving, he didn’t say hi to me for fear of interrupting us. Our faces were so intense, focused on each other, he said. Dennis and I exchanged contact info, and he offered me a place to stay if I ever went to Scotland. Normally, I’d brush off such an invitation as a glib pleasantry, if it weren’t for the fact that he repeated it five or six times over both nights. In return, I offered him a place to stay if he ever wanted to give Nana and Popa (whom he calls June and Vic) a break. It’s funny, I never knew their names until then.
I also had a good talk with Rob while Aaron and Chris were outside smoking cigars that night (which turned into the morning) before the wedding. We bonded over our love of Aaron, and I got to probe Rob, who’s deep enough for an entire entry I’ll be posting soon.
This is the Story of Aaron and Karen
Before I gave my speech, I showed this video as a way for everyone, but most importantly Aaron and Karen, to know how the groom’s side felt. Notice the keg-can of Heineken in Trolley’s shots.
I learned a lot about being an interviewer, about asking the right questions, about trying not to laugh at funny stories. You can hear in the way I ask Jay (yellow shirt), “In what way?”, that my cheeks are tightened in a big smile. I also realized that I shouldn’t finish other peoples thoughts, which is a bad habit of mine. The interviewer shouldn’t present any bias.
Everyone told me afterward that they were touched by how Aaron spoke from the heart. The interesting thing is that people were laughing at parts I didn’t expect them to laugh at. In my speech too. I don’t write to be funny; I can’t be a funny person why I try. It happens rather accidentally.
The speech did go well. I like how people started saying, “Woo hoo!” and “Cheers to that!” for the toast. If you listen closely after I give my thanks, there’s one person who claps well before anyone else, and I’ll forever be wondering who it was and why they were clapping with such vigor.
Wedding Opportunities
The ceremony was short and sweet, though it was a little cold. The Prince Charlie jacket doesn’t breathe, so the groomsmen were warm for most of it. I felt bad for the bridesmaids though, who wore backless, sleeveless dresses.
I caught up with Nick and Alison, whom I hope to see for a few photo projects down in that area at some point during the summer (I wish I was able to bring my camera to the wedding though). I got to know Steph a little better, and you could tell from the way she talks that she really cares about Trolley, which was important for me to find out. Hanging out with Jay was a blast too; he’s a really fun, easy-going guy, and I can totally see why he’s such good friends with Aaron. Pat did some robotics for us to the Scottish dance music, and I had the opportunity to introduce him to Dennis, hoping that both conversationalists would hit it off.
We danced, we mingled, we ate, we laughed. Weddings always offer great opportunities for such things. What other chance would I have to wear something as fun as the Scottish regalia (although Dennis explained to me that Ontario and Canada have their own tartans, and that I’d have the right to wear one if I wanted).
A good time was had by all.
Aaron's Bachelor Party
The bachelor party went better than I could have ever planned. Aaron wanted a weekend where the groomsmen could bond with each other so initial plans were to head to Montreal, but I suggested to host it at my house, where I felt like I had the most control.
Friday night was drinking with everyone at the Honest Lawyer. We got the biggest table there, and for a couple hours it felt like we owned the bar with our large and rowdy group. There was much tomfoolery to which our lips are sealed, as is the custom for any bachelor party, the footage of which will forever be locked in the vault. There’s nothing wrong with a drink or three though.
I even moonwalked (or some reasonable facsimile thereof) around the perimeter of the bar, weaving between groups of people, put up by Pat for 10 points. He said the funniest thing was seeing everyone’s reaction. I was too busy making sure I didn’t bump into anyone to notice that people stopped what they were doing and turned their heads as I passed them. When I closed the circle the table cheered and I felt all eyes in the place on me. Something I normally avoid at all costs, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.
It was also a meeting of the four bosses, the last time of which was almost a year ago during the birthday rounds. I was comforted knowing that Aaron was at my front, Trolley to his right, and Pat to mine at the table. The next meeting will be at the wedding itself this weekend. Exciting!
By Saturday we reduced to the core group for the rest of the tournament, which was groomsmen and MC. You know you’re old when conversation over breakfast is mainly about bacon, arts and crafts, and cooking shows. The pound of bacon challenge was worth 5 points, as evidenced by the plate dedicated to pork, which Aaron and Rob easily achieved.
Even though he didn’t show up until Saturday afternoon, I got to meet Jay, who was the only one out of Aaron’s crew that I hadn’t met. The rest of the weekend was spent game playing, Nerf warring, ultimate fighting in the backyard, and hanging out.
In the end, there just wasn’t enough time to do everything planned. I was also spreading myself thin between recording video, taking photos, and acting as organizer/host. Sometimes I wish I could be part of the action, but it’s more worth it to me to make sure the right angles, focus, compositions are taken. Still an absolute blast.
Multitasking Emotions
Left screen, I’m going over the bachelor party footage. We’re recovering from a night of drinking over bacon and eggs in a high-corner wide-angle shot. Right screen, I’m talking to Aaron on Messenger.
Aaron: bro, you know I love you
Aaron: like for real
Aaron: no shit
Jeff: thanks man, i love you too
Aaron: no ‘you’re my bro’ shit
Aaron: the real deal
“No ‘You’re my bro’ shit”, he says. Bro. The word we sometimes use to remind each other that we’re family. Nothing emasculates some like the “l” word, but we’re passed that.
“you know I love you”. He was first to say it this time, and it catalyzes the tears down my face.
The video’s still playing. In it we’re ebullient, fraternizing, and I can’t help but laugh along too.
I remember another time, about three years ago, when I broke down after dealing with my mom and her incorrigible ways. I rolled a joint and smoked it as soon as I got off the phone. As the weed went to my brain, my mood evened out. I was numb to the pain but the tears didn’t stop, like a physical reflex.
Life is the same way. It’s never black and white, and there’s no absolute right or wrong. There are grey areas, points of passion between pleasure and pain.
Even crying from joy is an enigmatic microcosm of such an idea. I remember doing so only one other time, at the end of grade 7, during the final auditions for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Out of 10 schools, we were competing to spend the summer singing on stage with Donny Osmond. When they announced the name of our school we jumped out of our seats in cheer, but I could feel my face grimace from the emotion, tears filling up my eyes. It’s as if you’re overtaken by sadness that you’ll never feel as happy again.
Like yin and yang, one doesn’t exist without the other, and often they exist at once.
Kilted Groomsmen
“You’re the perfect woman.”
She realizes this as she writes down my chest, waist, and hip size, then asks rhetorically, “What are the typically ideal measurements?”.
Aaron and I could only look at each other, as we had no idea.
“36–26–36.”
“Wow, so you’re a really hot chick!”, says Aaron.
Hi-LAR-ious. Years of confidence I’ve gained, girlfriends convincing me that I’m not too skinny, gone.
“And how much do you weigh?”
“(Pause)…113”.
“After he’s had a buffet”, Aaron adds. My friend the comedian. To console me, he says, “It’s okay. Remember, you’ll be paired up with Jenn in the party”.
My counterpart. The tiniest girl I know.
In the last few years I’ve been to weddings for other friends, but Aaron’s the first out of my core group to get married (although Pat got engaged before him). To pay tribute to his culture, he wants the wedding to be a bit Scottish — something his Popa is especially pleased about.
As a groomsman, I’ll be wearing a kilt. As a Chinese guy, I’ll be feeling a little out-of-place.
He asked me to give him a hand in shopping for the regalia. What a culture shock. Looking through catalogues of claidheamh, sporrans, Sgian Dubhs, Ghillies Brogues. I can’t even pronounce the names. My tongue wasn’t made for these kinds of inflections.
“It’ll take you guys longer to get dressed than the bride”.
Before we leave I remember to ask, “Can we go traditional?”, with Aaron adding, “My Popa would be pretty upset if we didn’t”.
Traditional. The euphemism for commando. The euphemism for bear-ass naked.
“Don’t worry, everything is dry-cleaned”, say the woman reassuringly.
It’s only after we leave that I realize everything but the shirt is made of wool.
I’ll be scratching my balls through the whole service.
















