AT THE REHEARSAL DINNER THE night before my friend Mike got married, the Pastor — who also happened to be the father of one of the groomsmen — told Mike he should be well-rested and clearheaded on the day of his wedding, and that he should go back to his hotel room early to prepare for the biggest day of his life.
Five hours later, we were at a club downtown watching a girl in fishnet stockings do acrobatics on silk scarves hanging from the ceiling when Mike decided it would be a good time to run outside and play hide-and-seek.
“Did I do a good job hiding from you guys?” he asked me and my friend Luke — another groomsman.
Luke, to Mike: “Yes, Mike, you did,” even though Mike “hiding” was just him standing in front of a wall.
Luke, to Me: “I think we need to take Mike home now.”
We walked to a long flight of stone steps that led to the ground level and asked Mike “how [he] felt about stairs” in his current state. He responded by sitting on the hand rail to try and slide down. He fell but caught himself, somehow wrapping his arms and legs around the railing like a koala (less gracefully than a koala, maybe, but it’s hard to compare, as I’ve never seen a koala quite that drunk).