PAGE IV - The "Cab"

I finished up another Amstel just after my steak arrived, and Firefly's Wash looked at me and said, "Dude, you need to get a Cabernet if you're going to eat a gorgeous piece of cow like that. Here..." He passed me his glass and let me take a sip. "See? Now THAT is how you eat bloody steak right!" I had to agree, and unfortunately that was part 2 of my downfall that night.

I went back to the open bar and did like Firefly's Wash told me to do, which was "just ask for a 'Cab'." The bartender smiled and filled up the bottom 1/4th of a giant, spherical wine goblet that looked like a small fishbowl for me. I said thanks, but when I went to give him a tip I found that I had no more singles left, so I dropped a fiver into his tip jar thinking that would cover me for the rest of the night. Well, the jovial bartender saw it and said, "Wait, sir... Gimme that back." So I then handed him the glass back, a little bit curious as to what he planned to do with it (like maybe add the antidote to the poison within it), but he grinned at me and proceeded to fill the entire 16-ounce glass with red liquid. To the fucking brim. I had to slurp it down a bit before I even started to walk back to the table for fear of any of the beautiful liquid sloshing over the edge. Then I took two steps and chugged a bit more. When I got back to my seat, Firefly's Wash said, "Oooo, wow! He filled you up halfway? Nice! He must like you." I kind of smiled and wiped my red mustache off and raised a toast to the bartender.

The "Thing" That Is the "Humiliation"

After a little while the whole hall got rather boisterous, and everybody was having a good ol' time. I pretty much just stuck to my steak and Cab (making two more return trips to the bartender before I was done with the meat, each time returning with a topped-off glass), but learned many fascinating things about the running of a hotel from Bloodberry and Firefly's Wash that I promptly forgot. I was still trying to deal with the whole "sausage fest" this party had turned into, but my frustration settled down a bit when all the speeches and toasts began. The cake was cut (well, it was a bunch of delicious cupcakes and not one single-flavored wedding cake), and first dances were danced... At least I think that's how things went. I was almost done with my third Cab by the time my cupcake got to me and things were a little... fuzzy by then.

Then the "wedding traditions" began. I wasn't paying too much attention as I hunted down and scarfed down my third and fourth cupcakes, but I was then grabbed by Foxfur and told to get out on the dance floor, seeing as all the single men were being called out by the overly excited DJ. My mind raced and came to the conclusion that the groom must have already removed the garter, and the bride must have already thrown the bouquet to the single women... And as I tried to figure out if I missed anything important, I found myself in the front row of all the bachelors in the room, in the middle of the dance floor, and something white was flying almost RIGHT at me. Without thinking, my hand reached out and snagged the garter just before it was about to hit the ground in front of Psycho Weasel to my right. His hands were firmly in his pockets, and he looked like a deer in headlights that just saw a 15 car pile-up occur 15 feet in front of him that kept that barreling Ford Expedition from plowing right into his face. I just stood there for a moment and looked curiously around the room; almost everybody in the place was giggling and pointing in my direction. Then all the guys around me sat back down as quickly as they could (some even tripping, like they were trying to get past just one man who couldn't outrun the cheetah on the Serengeti... that man being me, I could somehow tell), but the DJ told me to "wait right there, Mr. Garter" before I could follow suit to the safety of my table.

Goddamn me for listening to him.

A chair was then placed in the middle of the now empty dance floor, and the DJ called for "the lady who caught the bouquet to come on doooooooooooown!" Laughter erupted (which was obviously not directed at the lame DJ's schpiel). I looked back at my table with an expression like, "Holy fuck, what did I miss with the tossing of the bouquet?! It's the Grimace, isn't it... The goddamn Grimace caught the flowers... Oh shit. I'm gonna have to kill the Grimace again, aren't I..." I saw Mehve stop laughing enough to point like his (or my) life depended on it to a spot behind me, and I turned around, back to the center-stage chair, to see a 10 year-old girl sitting on it. Her feet didn't even touch the ground. She was terrified and looking blankly ahead, holding the bouquet in one hand, not knowing just what in the hell was going on, and why the entire room was laughing. I thanked Christ that Chris Hansen wasn't there.

When this whole fubar mess started, the DJ was on the dance floor too, and after he stopped laughing and picked himself up off the ground, he started crawling back to his magical DJ table set-up. I began thinking as quickly as my drunk ass could, which with the amount of alcohol in my blood stream, and the attention of about 125 people focused entirely on me, was actually quite impressive.

There was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to put that garter anywhere NEAR this girl's legs, but I was perfectly aware that the DJ was going to try and order me to do so the second he got back behind his table... The whole room took a gasp and fell silent as I approached the poor child, and I quickly and delicately (without even touching a hair on her head) placed the garter upon her like a halo.

There was a HUGE exhale of breath, and most everybody started to applaud (probably not for my quick thinking, but just the fact that the ordeal was over... And once again that Chris Hansen wasn't in the room). The DJ made it back to his kiosk, heard the commotion, and in a disappointed voice said, "What? Did he already do it? Did I miss it? What did?...."

He looked up, saw us already getting our pictures taken by professional and amateur photographers alike, and said, "Wait! No, we have to do this right. The garter-catcher has to..." That's when he caught my eye and saw me telling him "Don't you fucking DARE say what you're about to say," with my eyebrows. He caved and instead said, "Uuuuuh, well, at least put it on her arm.

I forced a smile, grumbled, and tried to put the garter on the catatonically shocked girl's arm as her limb just hung there. The garter fell off. Before the DJ could say anything else, I twisted and doubled the garter up and quickly put it on her arm at her elbow, then I whispered to her, "Honey, you can sit down now." Before I finished "now" she was out of the chair and in her frightened parents' arms like Wally West, the Flash (I swear I only saw the afterimage of her, and the Speed Force, racing back). I quickly rejoined my fellow dining-table guests and never looked back.

My only real question about the whole ordeal (other than "how in the hell could I have missed a 10 year-old catching the bouquet in the first place?") is "what in the goddamn hell was the DJ thinking?" First of all, allowing under 18ers to even get up for the bouquet, let alone letting shit go that far? Really now... As soon as a minor like that caught the damn thing the whole "tradition of the tossing" should have ended. Kaput. Finé. What was wrong with that DJ?

After THAT was over, the dancing began. I was feeling full, and frisky, but noticed that there were no single girls there (over 10 years-old, and over 4'2" at least) to actually bust a move with on the floor, so I joined some of Team Greenwood out in the hallway where they had for some reason gathered.

It turned out that I was not the only awesome guy at the Mulder Wedding: Drunk Captain Rugged immediately pulled me over to himself when I emerged from the ballroom and whispered in my ear in a low scream, "Rossman! Rossman! Look! Look!... Over there!...." He pointed down the hallway to the guy who was with the hottest bridesmaid who wasn't the Soccer Hooligan or the gay hippie. "It's HWil HWheaton! HWil HWheaton! Hhhholy shit! Look, dude!" And holy fuck was he right!

I ran up to the HWheaton and in a fanboyish way said, "Man, I don't care what those fags on the intarwebs say, you are the greatest Star Trekker guy in like all the universes... Wait, where's your clown sweater?"

I don't think he fully understood me, but HWil HWheaton then shook my hand and said, "Wow! You're the dude who had to put the garter on the little girl! That took balls of coconuts, sir! I salute you!" Then HWil HWheaton saluted me. I gave him the "live long and prosper" Vulcan hand gesture, and then I hugged him. I grabbed his date's butt too while she was looking away, but I think she thought it was HWil 'cause she let me keep my hand there for 45 seconds. Hell, if HWil HWheaton grabbed me I'd let him hold on as long as he wanted too!... He wouldn't though. I even tried to move his hands down South, but no dice.

Anyway, when I turned back around to try and get a Greenwooder or UGAnimean to take our picture together, I found I had been abandoned like a sack of puppies on the interstate at rush hour. Damn the luck!

At one point during the night, I found everybody just outside the ballroom, in front of the coat-check room. That's when I climbed over the locked lower portion of the door and started demanding that people "give me your goddamn coats... Mothafuckas!" Soon I told them that we were running out of room in the small space I had behind me, but I told them I'd store their stuff in the sub-basement. I pressed an imaginary button on the wall next to me, and then started bending my knees to make it look like I was taking the elevator down a level or two. When I came back up I told them all that the elevator was malfunctioning, and that I'd have to take the stairs. That's when my day at Mime School really paid off!

When I came back up from the sub-basement I found only Firefly's Wash there waiting for me. He was grinning and told me I needed another Cab.

I bumped into Drunk Captain Rugged on my way to the bar again (for something to do), as he was heading outside to hang out on the balcony for some fresh air and "frunkus shpladilly dally plah..." Then after I got my full Cab from the awesome bartender I bumped into Foxfur who had a glass of water in her hand and was chasing after Drunk Captain Rugged.

I asked if she wanted me to deliver the agua to her man, and she thanked me, and passed the glass over to me. After she returned to the reception hall I verified that it was indeed plain water in the glass, returned to the bartender, and traded him the water for another full goblet of Cab. Then I tracked Drunk Captain Rugged down and made him drink that. Mulder saw what I did and he nodded in approval. Then we all posed for the following picture.

If this isn't awesome I don't know what is...

That's actually the telltale sign that I'm drunk off my balls, apparently: whenever you see me yelling and pointing at the camera, I'm three sheets to the wind. Actually, more like 7 sheets, but I digress.

Lots of stuff then happened that night, only some of which am I able to truly recall on my own, but with the help of modern photography (and now folk tales being told about me in the Capital City) I can remember a bit more than just blurs and flashing colors. I will try to let the pictures tell the sordid stories now.

After going back inside again, I remember hearing some 80s song that I knew and loved, and I simply HAD to boogie. So I grabbed the first hottie I could find and jumped out on the dance floor. I didn't care that she had a ring on that looked like a doorknob, I just wanted to dance (Rossman style!). Lots of pseudo swing dancing, pelvic thrusts, and dipping of the woman later and she had to take a breather, and I was on the hunt again for my next "dancing with the stars awesome kickin' it partner!"

Unfortunately I just found Drunk Captain Rugged. Yeah, he was good for one chorus of The Pointer Sisters' "I'm So Excited!", but he kept trying to grope me... Or me him... Or Mulder both of us... Anyway, groping time was for later, I needed to grab and hold a girl close to me NOW.

Soon I found this cute blonde chick (again with a ring, but no hubby to be found) sitting near the dance floor surrounded by a bunch of chatty women. I didn't care. I tapped her politely on the shoulder, bowed and asked her to dance like I imagined a suave Bruce Willis would if he ever got so drunk in public that he could barely stand. She reluctantly joined me, and I did the best I could to lead our way through two slow songs and one disco smash hit before she excused herself and returned to her group.

I then got my last full Cab of the night, found Mulder and told him he was the most awesomest groom on the face of the universe, and then I think I went outside to the front of the hotel and started opening taxi doors for people both arriving and departing the place. By that time I had found a cigar (which I was puffing like a pro), and kept swirling my Cab in my hand while I tried to quote some of Winston Churchill's greatest zingers... Though in hindsight saying random things like "...And if YOU were my wife, I'd drink it!" to frightened hotel guests as they jumped away from me out of their taxis and ran into the lobby, well, maybe I should have zipped up first.

Anyway, soon I returned to the emptying ballroom, got the cute blonde to dance two more songs with me, and then said good night to the bride and groom, and the rest of Team Greenwood and UGAnime. Most of them were heading back home the next day, and although that bummed me out, Bloodberry and Firefly's Wash told me they were staying in town an extra day, and asked if I wouldn't mind joining them as they hit museums and did fun shit. I said "Sure... But let's find a bar now first... Awesome."

And at around 11PM, we did. Well, we did after Psycho Weasel, Drunk Captain Rugged, and I hugged and cried for 5 minutes. It was a happy, yet sad cry. A cry of departures, and yet happiness for our now married bro... And a sad cry for no more free drinks.

The reception was pretty much cleared out when Bloodberry, Firefly's Wash, and I left, but we knew that there was still some fun to be had around town for three dressed up party animals on the prowl. We walked on down to Crystal City once again, and found some Mexican restaurant with a bar that was still open.

I don't remember anything after that. Well, I can at LEAST say I don't remember THIS picture...

Honestly, what the hell? Where would I have come up with the idea to do something like this? Something this weird, bizarre, and possibly illegal?

Ah... Right.

I think I'm actually trying to make a "sidewalk maze" with these things, if I kind of remember correctly. I don't know what that means, but there you go.

I do recall it being around 1AM when Bloodberry and Firefly's Wash walked me back to my hotel, and I barely got undressed before passing out on my bed. There were some pretty bad bouts of stuff later that night (the less you know the better you'll sleep tonight), but eventually I did zonk out for good.

I found this picture chronologically after the whole "late night street-pylon snatching incident," and before my first picture the next day. I must have kicked in the newlyweds' door and barged in with a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos and a six-pack of Killian's again. Honestly, brides and grooms should expect that if they invite me to their wedding and liquor me up. It's like a Rossman tradition! Next time though, I'm hiring a film crew to follow me around. I need video documentation of shit so that I can fully realize just how awesome Party Rossman is.... Wait, no, on second thought documentation might not be a good idea. That's how they finally brought down the Lohan.

Anyway, the whole point of this page is to say that this was one of the most fun weddings I've ever been too (well, wherein I didn't get any). Goodnight, everybody!