Obie and Amanda got married yesterday, undeterred by the rain and accompanied by my third favorite dog, Chili.
This time I didn't feel old.
Last summer, a summer of weddings, I felt old- starting with Willy Brazil's hitching and continuing on with Party Time's Cape Cod postcard wedding and then with Bry's wedding in Dirty Jerz. It was the summer of friends getting married, old friends & college friends and it brought along with it a creeping realization that time is passing faster now. If we're not the oldest people in the world, then we might be the second. Tough to tell.
But yesterday, on Peaks, I really only felt one thing- satisfaction.
It was that feeling you get when you see something that makes complete sense, that seems right, feels right and ultimately is right. Goddamn if Obie isn't one of the finest Americans out there and seeing him tie the knot and the smile on his face that was present for the majority of the evening, made me just nod my head, pleased and happy with another buddy joining adulthood. I looked around, seeing people from high school, parents, and familiar islanders, and it seemed as if everyone was on the same page, we all seemingly agreed that this wedding was the real deal and shit if we weren't stoked monkeys to just be a part of it.
Weddings and funerals always make me think of my own, for better or worse. And thinking about marriage, specifically my wedding, really was only a distant thought yesterday. If anything, I thought that I probably wouldn't have a flower girl and probably wouldn't have an Ipod provide the music, but that was it. It wasn't about me, it wasn't about anyone else there besides good ol' Obie and Amanda and maybe that is a sign that things are in fact changing.
Or maybe it just means the humidity is keeping from taking a nap and the fact that the Sox are playing, but it's just a bunch of dudes in Sox uniforms, is forcing me to be introspective. But I don't know, dude- you take a quick step into your past and it's almost inevitable that it will get the mind churning, curdling, and chugging along.
Either way, this morning I woke up happy for Obie and without a headache.
Not a bad wedding. Congrats kids.
Showing posts with label peaks island. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peaks island. Show all posts
Top 7 Reasons to eat a Hot Dog
The Top 7 Reasons Why I Would Eat a Hot Dog
1.) Phillies’ Dollar Dog Night. This is a no-brainer. Hot dogs are generally a good idea when two things happen and happen in this order: 1.) I’m at least 3 or 4 beers deep and 2) I can get as many hot dogs as I want for a dollar. It’s like peanut butter and jelly or gin and tonic. It just makes sense. Add watching baseball in the summer and you have a pretty good situation.
2.) Anytime after 1am and I’m at a Gas Station. If it’s this late and I’m still up, I’m most likely drunk and if I’m at a gas station looking for food, then I’m drunk and hungry. The desire to eat supercedes the desire to eat healthy and the hot dogs, rolling around in the glass case seem to be the perfect solution.
3.) A Machique. What’s a Machique? It’s a Bay Lines term that is used to explain when the summer crew of Peaks AM set up and grill on the Machigonne (the car ferry that runs from Portland to Peaks Island) on their lunch break. Anything goes and they are always a good way to end the week. Machique’s usually consist of cheeseburgers, pasta salad, sausages, and usually one or two bags o’ salad. But there is usually the guaranteed appearance of a couple hot dogs that someone found in the Crew Lounge fridge. No one really questions how long the hot dogs have been sitting in the fridge or whose they might be. They just get eaten and any explanations are given later.
4.) Blank.
5.) Blank.
6.) Mark’s Hot Dogs. Mark’s is a hot dog stand in Portland’s Old Port. He’s been there for years and his clientele consists mostly of businessmen, high school kids, and homeless people, one of whom has an affinity for eighties’ hair band t-shirts. I can’t actually remember the last time I had a hot dog from Mark, but sitting here, writing this list, I couldn’t help but think of the numerous times I’ve walked by Mark’s, and so it seemed appropriate to include him.
7.) Blank. Dude, hot dogs are gross. There aren’t seven instances that exist where I would eat one. I have to be either A) drunk B) desperate C) at work or D) all of the above. Other than that, I would never eat a hot dog. My friend South Street Scott loves hot dogs and his eyes light up when you mention the idea of going to a Phillies’ game on Dollar Dog Night. More power to him. Personally, they make me sick along the same lines as Amish people scooping ice cream and food with odd sounding names.
1.) Phillies’ Dollar Dog Night. This is a no-brainer. Hot dogs are generally a good idea when two things happen and happen in this order: 1.) I’m at least 3 or 4 beers deep and 2) I can get as many hot dogs as I want for a dollar. It’s like peanut butter and jelly or gin and tonic. It just makes sense. Add watching baseball in the summer and you have a pretty good situation.
2.) Anytime after 1am and I’m at a Gas Station. If it’s this late and I’m still up, I’m most likely drunk and if I’m at a gas station looking for food, then I’m drunk and hungry. The desire to eat supercedes the desire to eat healthy and the hot dogs, rolling around in the glass case seem to be the perfect solution.
3.) A Machique. What’s a Machique? It’s a Bay Lines term that is used to explain when the summer crew of Peaks AM set up and grill on the Machigonne (the car ferry that runs from Portland to Peaks Island) on their lunch break. Anything goes and they are always a good way to end the week. Machique’s usually consist of cheeseburgers, pasta salad, sausages, and usually one or two bags o’ salad. But there is usually the guaranteed appearance of a couple hot dogs that someone found in the Crew Lounge fridge. No one really questions how long the hot dogs have been sitting in the fridge or whose they might be. They just get eaten and any explanations are given later.
4.) Blank.
5.) Blank.
6.) Mark’s Hot Dogs. Mark’s is a hot dog stand in Portland’s Old Port. He’s been there for years and his clientele consists mostly of businessmen, high school kids, and homeless people, one of whom has an affinity for eighties’ hair band t-shirts. I can’t actually remember the last time I had a hot dog from Mark, but sitting here, writing this list, I couldn’t help but think of the numerous times I’ve walked by Mark’s, and so it seemed appropriate to include him.
7.) Blank. Dude, hot dogs are gross. There aren’t seven instances that exist where I would eat one. I have to be either A) drunk B) desperate C) at work or D) all of the above. Other than that, I would never eat a hot dog. My friend South Street Scott loves hot dogs and his eyes light up when you mention the idea of going to a Phillies’ game on Dollar Dog Night. More power to him. Personally, they make me sick along the same lines as Amish people scooping ice cream and food with odd sounding names.
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