I Remember California
Day 7

Preface: Allow me to explain. Unless you are a blood relation (and dear God, if you are, I hope you're not reading this), I don't know you longer than I've known Ryan. And so when he asked me to be in their wedding party, well, these things cannot be refused. Even more ironic, (or moronic), I was present when he proposed to Candy. Stupidly, I thought this was a running gag between them, and didn't recognize it at the time. Oh, well.
So this explains why I was out in the middle of California on a hot day, overdressed in a suit jacket, looking for a winery. Candy's from Gilroy, and that's about 10 miles south of Morgan Hill, where I was driving around. I ended up stopping at the library, I had been stupid about the whole map thing, and being unable to get internet access since LA, I was mildly lost. Thankfully, I found a local bus map that happened to have the road I needed on it, and I was on my way.
I made the winery on time, in fact a little early. We went through the paces three times, once too slow, once too fast, third time just right. The fact that we were doing this to procession music culled from a Flash game was only the first twist in this affair.

After school, Ryan got a job in northern Virginia, and then worked to put together his own company with some partners. He also got involved with a circle of geeks online. I mean that in all connotations, his circle is geeky, they wouldn't argue it. I wouldn't argue that you folks aren't geeks either. There's no question of degree or anything like that. It's just a different group, with a different form of art. As a result, I was they guy in the wedding party who was "the friend from before the internet." Candy and Ryan met online, through mutual interests six years ago, and three years ago she moved out his way. The bad part is, I probably should see them more often than I do. I just never seem to be in the DC area when I'm not hauling an entire team.

I checked into the hotel, and left a message for my parents. Yes, they were involved in this as well. They had flown into SF on the Tuesday, and now on the Thursday, they were due to meet up with me. They weren't yet there, so I laid out for a while. The hotel was finally set up to handle wireless correctly so I checked my mail, and found that Ken was finally getting some press. And they almost got NAQT's full name right, even. I had seen some of it before I left, but he was starting to get into that range where he combined the inevitability of Paul Michael Larson with the creeping doom feel of the baby carriage going down the stairs in the Battleship Potemkin. And it's always cool to be able to say, "hey, I work with that guy." Cool points by association are still cool points. (A side note: at this year's July 4 picnic, I had the following exchange with my cousin. Him: "Have you seen this guy on Jeopardy?" DEK: "Yeah, he's in the company with me." Him: "You know, I figured that.")

So we went to lunch, wedding party, families, all of us. A good meal, and good friends. After the food, we headed back to the hotel. Again, my folks hadn't shown up. At that point, I decided to crack my gift basket, it was very Gilroy-centric. I got a jar of pickled garlic, and it was blasting through the glass. When I drove past the town the day before, I had the same experience. Fortunately, there was a mini-fridge I could block the garlic off.

The one remaining duty for the day was to go get the tux fitting. So all nine of us piled into two cars and drove up to San Jose, where the Men's Warehouse lay in wait. I've had issues with these people in the past. They've been immensely unhelpful in the past (It's the only place where my size has ever been an issue.) and their handling of my fitting in Pittsburgh was outstandingly screwed up. (They managed to botch the order by not finding the party registration, and they are apparently using a measurement system not used by other places.) Well, when we got there, we discovered they didn't have their plan together at this place either. A minor thing, they had the wrong color shirts for some of us. Smooth.

So this was my first tux experience, and well, it was interesting. Foremost among the experiences is the realization that my butt was simply not involved in the process. That's not to say it didn't fit, or that I was wearing a tent back there, it was just the combination of lightweight fabric, and loose fit design, that I spent most of the day with the sneaking suspicion I was accidentally mooning all those gathered here today. Not fun, but I guess I looked all right.

After that, one of the guys, suggested we hit a record store nearby. Well, it was sort of nearby. Five of us piled into a rental convertible and rolled around San Jose, looking for the local Rasputin Music. We got a little lost, and I got a little whipped by being in the back between two dudes with much longer hair than myself. I approved of the logo on their bags, which is Rasputin either offering a blessing, or telling people "five bucks says I can bounce this bottle cap of that doofus' forehead." I also managed to pick up a copy of the album Mr. Bad Example, I had been desperately searching for a copy of "Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead" and by the end of the trip back, one of the guys was really digging the title track.

By that time the bride and bridesmaids had finished up at the salon, and we met them for dinner. Typical sushi place, and one more thing I can't necessarily get in PA was off the list.

We drove back to the hotel, and I discovered my parents were finally in. I checked in with them, and then slipped down to the pool. My folks dropped down for a couple minutes to see the bride and groom. Ryan refers to my parents as his auxilliary parents, and Candy had always wanted to meet them. I assume that went well, my folks left soon after, and Candy retired. Thus the heavy drinking began.

It was an odd bachelor party, easily the first I'd seen where one of the activities was IRC. (Told you these were geeks. Different from us, but still the same.) We told stories, great tall tales, and occasional lapses into the truth. It was a good last night for him. Throughout it all, Ryan never wavered once, there was no doubt in his mind that this was the right course. I suppose that surprised some, but not me. Last year, during the wedding of Andy, Ryan's brother, I shot a picture of Ryan and Candy dancing. I don't think I've ever seen anything more certain in my life.

Day 8
The wedding was at 4. I woke at 11, found my folks, and headed out to lunch. Not bad, though I was running on a streak of Mexican that needed adjustment, and that didn't happen. About one o'clock, I was sitting back out at the pool. The bridal party had picked up In-n-Out Burger to go, and the orders came back just after I did. A discussion of the secret menu led to google searching, and I discovered that "animal style" also extends to fries. I filed that away for later.

By three we were at the winery. Three-thirty, we were dressed. Three-fifty, we were assembled. Three groomsmen, two bridesmaids, one bridesmen, one best man, one man of honor. (apparently balancing the male-female ratio is a universal problem) I noted that the English language wouldn't survive this wedding. Four o'clock, we made our spots, and by 4:04, we began. The wind picked up a little, and blew out the candle just as it was lit. Candy came close to crying, but held up wonderfully. As for the rest of us, it had been dry out there for a while, so if anyone asks, we're blaming the dust.

It all worked out. Andy came through with a great speech, touching all the historical bases I knew too well. The cake was a magnificent work of art, and the winery's open bar justified the location. I didn't have to dance much, though I didn't get left out. I got plenty of pictures, a reasonable substitute for the garter, and I apologize if I made the bridesmaid I escorted sick.

There's an entire assembly of pictures here and here, I suspect there's good blackmail material. You can get the pictures I took of the wedding here.