Day 3: Saturday, September 17th
I then cleaned the dried vomit off my face, caught a quick continental breakfast in the lobby (i.e. Froot Loops, a bagel and a soggy banana), and jumped in the back of the MegaPlayboy's already trashed out rental. He did a couple of donuts in the parking lot, and we were off! It was about a 25 minute drive to the Solar System Trail (where we were hiking), but it went by quickly thanks to me passing out a few times (I can do it on cue. It's a gift). When we got there I was like a little, excitable lap dog, running around the car, jumping up and down, and peeing myself with glee (I drank a lot of rehydrating water that morning, plus I was really looking forward to the walk). Then the three of us started the hike. The point of the Solar System Trail is that you start out at a plaque with a yellow globe about the size of a basketball painted on it (representing the sun), and then you hike from plaque to plaque to see how far away from the sun each planet in our system would be if the sun were that size. Pluto was about 2.6 miles away, on the top of a mountain, and it was represented by a dot the size of a grain of sand. Kind of made me feel insignificant... That booze REALLY must have worn off by then if I was starting to feel THAT.
The hike was really pleasant. It was easy at first, but then after about a half a mile we started moving more vertical than horizontal. Still, it wasn't a bad journey, EXCEPT for the unusual amount of horse droppings smack dab in the middle of the path. Seriously, the narrow, cliff-ridden, crumbly trail was littered with giant piles of horse shit. MOUNDS of the stuff! We had to walk single file up the narrow trail, so whoever was in front would have to warn the rest of us of upcoming equine crappola. That was like every 15 seconds.
And so on and so forth. After making it the last hundred yards to the top of the mountain, home to Pluto (that last hundred yards being made up of nothing but crumbly, rock-slide ready boulders, on a 70 degree angled slope), we got an incredible view of the entire valley below. We could see our parking lot waaaay off in the distance, and we could see tons of mini-wineries perched on the sides of nearby mountains all around us like marijuana crops hidden from the authorities on South American rugged peaks. It was a sight to behold... But then we started bitching when we remembered that we eventually had to descend back down through the horsey minefield -- and soon the fresh mountain air was replaced with that of once eaten oats. I fucking hate horses now. And jockeys... But I've always hated jockeys.
After barely making it back to the car (I almost died twice; once from almost falling off a cliff after slipping in giant mammal shit, and another time from when Firecracker tried to murder me when I laughed too hard at her after she almost fell off a cliff after stepping in horse shit), we decided to celebrate life by eating out before getting cleaned up and ready for the ceremony later that evening. I voted for Carl's Jr (fuck you, naysayers! Carl's is NOT just another face of Hardee's, and it's Western Double Bacon Hyper Cheeseburger Deluxe is the greatest fast food burger ever fucking made... Hallelujah, holy shit!), but the MegaPlayboy and Firecracker out numbered my vote and made us go to the In 'N Out Burger nearby. Yeah, that place is great for a punchline to a racy, sexy joke, but fuck me, I just don't like 'em. Well, I guess I don't hate the In 'N Out (Hell, I could do with just the "In" [see, it's GREAT for a punchline]), but if there's a Carl's Jr nearby, then there's no real choice in my mind. I think they'll even cover your tray with chili if you ask at Carl's. I'm creaming my jeans just thinking about it.
Aaaaanyway, so we did the In 'N Out, then the MegaPlayboy dropped me off at my hotel to get all cleaned up. I begrudgingly agreed to meet them at the wedding (I guess it WAS the reason I flew the fuck out there in the first place), and shaved and showered and put on my brand new shirt and tie. I am one sexy beast when I polish myself off, let me just say that. A fucking sexual dynamo sexy beast. GrrrrrrrrRRRRROOOOOoooowwwwl!
After the clean-up I grabbed my wedding gift (It wasn't what I had ordered... They must have goofed up the item IDs on the website. They sent me two sterling silver dildos/strap-ons with two sets of studded collars, whips and thigh-high latex boots.... Those bastards! I ordered the flesh-toned dildos!) and zoomed on over to the Manor House (the wedding was in the gorgeous gardens in the back) with time to spare.
I won't cover the wedding itself on this page because, well, because I'm not THAT much of an asshole as to mock a joyous occasion such as this. But I will say that things went even better than I hoped since Firecracker and I were able to talk the caterers into opening up the bar well before the ceremony even began. Good times.
Right after the "I do's" is when things started to get really good. The bride made damn sure that I sat next to her just arrived, hot friend (Hot Gimp) at Table 7 at the reception, and... Well really that's all I needed for it to make things really good. It seems that Hot Gimp broke her foot while chasing down skateboardin' aborigines midgets on the Outback during some hot new competition in the X-Treme Games, but she made it worth her while by actually landing on 4 midgets and a koala bear before being disqualified. Hot Gimp was definitely all her name led you to believe! Wait, what?
Table 7 ruled that night. Most of the alcohol coming out of the kitchen never made it past us. The company at the table was great too, and thanks to the drinks I heard tons of great stories involving lots of people I know and lots of glorious felonies (all that blackmail material will keep me from having to find a job for at least 3 years!). But not all that night was rainbows and puppies. Yeah, Spike showed up, but I was able to avoid the asshat for the most part, so it's all good. Oh, and the mother and father of the bride were so fucking awesome! They actually hung out with all us fun drunks, and kind of ignored all their own boring relatives that night.
After the toasts by the father of the bride, the best man and the maid of honor, some drunk mongos got it in their minds to stumble over to the bride and groom table and make long winded, boring and unfollowable speeches of their own (and no, surprisingly enough I wasn't one of them! Imagine that). Oh my god... That one drunk chick rambled on about how she loved the groom, but then proceded to feel up the bride as she went on and on about planning to try and steal the groom away from her. But no... She was "just kidding... Unless the bride wouldn't mind... Hey! Would you two like to get together for a little something, I think it's pronounced 'menage a--'" That's when I borrowed Hot Gimp's crutch and clotheslined the speechy skank across the throat with it to the thunderous applause of the guests. Then the bride's fork accidentally fell and severed the skank's subclavian artery while she was passed out on the ground. Hey, just because it's a wedding doesn't mean that nature had to stop killin'.
There was a disco dancing bride, guys in tuxes shooting pool, drunk morons (like me) playing shuffleboard, and pints of beer flowing from the bar and being passed around like buckets of water by an old-time fire brigade. Camera flashes were going off all over the place giving the tiny bar the impression of some low-rent, slimy and divey Studio 54. It was wicked sweet. Then I learned the Cheeto Game. Life was good. All in all it was enough to break me of my attempt to go full-on gay. Dammit! Now I'll never disappoint mom and dad!