I make it a point not to do back to back weddings, but as a favor to Ryan and because of scary upcoming home ownership costs
Friday - Ryan had been telling me for months how important it was I do a good job for them because he had personally vouched for me and they have already hired me for future events. At the last minute though he must have decided it was more important I fail miserably. How else do you explain him powerbuffing his dad’s corvette in the garage below my bedroom at 5am?
I have explained to him about 7 million times the importance of sleep for someone with narcolepsy, so he obviously wanted this job to be a disaster. And it almost was.
Even before the powerbuffage I had been up from sinus headaches and thunderstorms, so by the time I arrived to set up I was in the perfect state of narcotardation. But that didn’t stop me from getting funky. Literally.
After setting up all the heavy equipment I got dressed in my tux and went back to start the cocktail music. I went to reach for a CD and a cloud of green emerged from my armpit. Horrified, I sampled the other pit. It was equally gagworthy. I considered just keeping my arms down all night, dancing like a penguin. Instead I decided take action. Fortunately there was a private bathroom where I locked myself in. Using soap and paper towels, I swabbed each pit thoroughly. This was only a temporary fix though so I needed something more. I saw a can of air freshener and went for it.
Lesson learned on this night - Air freshener is *NOT* deodorant. It burns. Then it stings. Then it burns some more.
Still, pits o’ fire beats pits o’ funk any day of the week. Now destankified, I went back and waited for the bridal party to arrive. And waited. And waited. They finally showed up, over an hour late. They had requested earlier that they do the bride and groom dance upon arrival. So you’d think the extra hour would have been enough time to cue up the correct song. Enter the narcotard.
I introduced the bride and groom to wild applause, directed them to the dance floor and proceeded to play “When You Say Nothing At All”, which was scheduled for the bridal party dance later that night. The bride and groom both yelled “NO!” at me, sending me in to a mad scramble to find the right song. As I fumbled to switch CDs, I tried to cover it by asking everyone in the room to give one more huge round of applause for the new Mr. and Mrs. Marty Smith! Unfortunately Marty was the best man, not the groom.
Very very lucky for me everyone there was extremely laid back and didn’t mind they had Corky the DJ.
Saturday - After a full night of sleep, I headed to my next job recharged and excited. The excitement stemmed from playing at St. Michael’s, home of the most phenomenal Polish food on the planet. I was not disappointed - potato perogies, polish mashed potatoes, some noodle cheese dish, and spiced meats wrapped in cabbage leaves, all made from scratch. I get misty eyed just thinking about it now.
Sadly the point came where I had to stop eating and start working. Everything went much smoother than the night before, but my equipment still had a few surprises in store. My light controller, which had been behaving for the last few weeks, decided to zap me while I talking on the microphone: “Is everybody ready to d-d-d-d-dance!” Don’t mind me, it’s just the tourettes again.
Fortunately I didn’t have to worry about songs skipping, because Ryan installed new CD players. They are a little fancier then the last ones with a few new gadgets and buttons. One of these buttons is called “Key Lock” which I must have accidentally pressed while distracted by someone making a request. I hit the play button, expecting Wild Cherry, and instead got the Wild Chipmunks. Flustered, I began pushing buttons and turning dials, but the song continued to play in the key of F-ed up. Eventually I gave up and switched to a new CD. The great thing was that while the crowd gave me a few strange looks, they kept right on dancing.
Yeah play that funky music white boy! But about those funky armpits…