The Lost Toasts (Crazy Night)

If you came here expecting to find the lightly burnt piece of bread which you misplaced, you’re probably an idiot!

In my July 1^st entry, My Proposal To Save Marriage, I mentioned attending two weddings. The nuptials were a week apart and I was prepared to give a toast, in case someone passed me a microphone! Unfortunately for everyone in attendance, the request never came. (Their loss!)

***In honor of Hispanic heritage month, the actual names will be given some Sabor!***

My sister, Marcela, married her husband, Guillermo, on June 18^th; here is the toast I would have given:

[Inside the Reception Hall]

Master of Ceremonies: “I will now call up the brother of the bride.”

[I saunter to the stage and he hands me the microphone. There are two reactions by the wedding guests. The people who didn’t know me, thought it was a great gesture for me to say a few words. The people who knew me, were terrified; not knowing what I would say!]

Me: “Thank you, kind sir.”

[The MC leaves the stage.]

Me: “First of all, I’d like to welcome Guillermo to the family.”

[There is a loud applause.]

Me: “I don’t know about everyone else, but when I think of marriage, I think of Jesus.”

[I pause for effect.]

Me: “Jesusssssss!” *In my best reverend impersonation*

[Those who know me are scared out of their minds.]

ME: “Those of you, who know me, know that I am not a religious person, but I always knew my sister was going to get married before she turned 30, because of Jesus. This may sound crazy, but it was the messiah himself who told her about her future marriage.”

[People look at me as if I am crazy.]

Me: “I’m serious. When we were young, Jesus told my sister that she would get married before the age of 30.”

[My sister looks puzzled.]

Me: “It all happened during the summer of ’89. My mother was taking us to the mall so we could do some shoe shopping; I couldn’t wait to buy a new pair of Jordan’s. My mom stopped at our family business to get some money and we remained outside. Out of nowhere, my sister taps me on the shoulder and says, ‘I am going to be married before I am 30.’ I had no idea what caused her to bring up the subject of marriage and I said, ‘what?’ She repeated the statement and I asked, ‘how do you know?’ That’s when she said the three words which I will never forget, ‘Jesus told me’!”

[The audience is on the edge of their seats.]

Me: “What? When the heck did you see Jesus? She pointed directly at me and said, ‘He’s right there.’ I was stunned at first; was she calling me Jesus? After a few seconds, I realized that she was actually pointing at a fifteen degree angle; from what I could ascertain, Jesus was over my right shoulder. As you can imagine, this was a confusing time for me. On the one hand, I was too afraid to turn around and see the ‘savior’ standing behind me; on the other hand, I was intrigued.”

[I pause again for effect.]

ME: “I don’t know what everyone’s beliefs are, but on that warm summer day, [I scan the room and look a few people directly in the eye. In my most convincing tone, I uttered the most powerful three words known to man.] I saw Jesus!”

[People are stunned, and have a strong desire to hear more.]

Me: “I turned around and the sun was directly in my eyes. I struggled to keep them open, but I was able to make out a figure. It was clearly a man; he was sitting on a rock. I held my right hand up to my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun’s forceful glare.”

[I hold up my hand to my forehead to reenact my motion for those in attendance. For the rest of the tale, I speak in a soft whisper.]

Me: “His face becomes clearer to me. To my amazement, I recognize the man. I turn to my sister and shake my head, disapprovingly. JESUS? *Spanish Pronunciation*You’re talking about Jesus? *Spanish Pronunciation*That drunk bastard will say anything! Last week, he told me I was going to play for the Red Sox!”

[The wedding guests erupt into laughter.]

Me: “Who knew? Drunk-ass Jesus *Spanish Pronunciation* was right!”

[I walk back to my seat, proudly, and the applause almost brings a tear to my eye!]

Too bad the toast never happened!

The second wedding was celebrated the following week, on June 25^th. My cousin Juanito married his lovely bride, Tulia. The maid of honor was Tulia’s sister, Katia. Prior to the wedding, Katia jokingly asked me to give her some ideas for a toast. Luckily, I came up with a good one. Here is the toast I suggested:

***I think it is important to mention that this was a large ceremony with over 600 guests, including the Mayor of Boston, along with some of the nuns and priests from the local church!***

When they call you up, thank whoever hands you the microphone, then say, “what a funny mother!” Don’t say “fucker,” but mouth the word. Act surprised, as if the microphone stopped working. Look around at the crowd, and then look back at the microphone. Say, “hello?” Look puzzled and then mouth the word “fuck.” Again, act surprised as if the microphone is malfunctioning. Repeatedly mouth the word “fuck,” and look surprised after each “failed” attempt. Each time, you should appear to say the word with more conviction. After several failed attempts, pause, look at the audience, and shrug your shoulders. Finally, look at the microphone and motion as if you have solved a great riddle. Hold the microphone high so everyone can see it, and act as if you clicked a switch. Bring the microphone close to your mouth and say, “Who the fuck turned on the vulgar guard?” The audience will be laughing their asses off! (Well, not everyone!) From that moment on, you will have the people eating out of your hands!

I was way too drunk to remember Katia’s actual toast, but she did not take my suggestion. The audience would have loved my toast. (Oh well, these things happen!)

Let this be a lesson to all. You don’t have to include me in your wedding party because I would much rather drink freely without having any responsibilities, but get me involved in the speech making process; you won’t regret it!

The last toast is a perfect introduction to the story I am about to tell. I mentioned being drunk at the wedding but I was beyond inebriated; I was de-steroid! My cousin, Nestor, is the groom’s brother so he was in the wedding party. Nestor has a Chevy Tahoe, which I drove to the hall so we would be able to fit as many drunkards as possible; minimizing the number of people driving under the influence. (You see, I was actually paying attention during my forced attendance at a MADD presentation. Read my entry, Was I Expelled From Seton Hall, posted on July 11^th.)

After the church ceremony, I drove to the Hall and parked the Tahoe in the main garage. The reception was a bit of a blur; I do remember the bar! About an hour before the festivities ended, my only concern was getting home as fast as possible, so I could sleep. I saw my mom, Maria, who was on her way to the exit, and I said, “If you’re leaving, I’m riding with you guys.” (I didn’t change my mom’s name; it has enough Sabor!) She replied, “You are drunk!” I shook off her wild accusation and replied, “No, I’m tired!” She obviously didn’t believe me.

I found Nestor and handed him his keys. I headed for the exit and found my mom. She was saying “bye” to some of the people who were in the hallway and I headed outside for some fresh air. When I exited the building, I ran into Juanito’s brother-in-law, Chano. I have no idea what we were talking about or how long we conversed, but I do remember failing to notice that my mom walked past me.

When I finally realized she was taking too long, I walked back inside. I came to the conclusion that she was at the car and I decided to meet her there. (Keep in mind, I had no idea where she parked!) I assumed she was in the garage and walked towards the entrance.

**Before the story continues, I must give a description of the hotel.**

The wedding reception was held at the Marriott in Quincy, Massachusetts. It is important to note the fact that the hotel is located on top of a massive hill. (Pictured below!) If you look at the photo, the entrance has a red awning. The entrance to the garage is only a few feet away. (The black line marks my adventure and the green line is my return trip!)

I entered the garage and I walked all the way to the bottom. I couldn’t believe that I failed to find the car. In my drunken state, I decided to walk around and look for my parents. Maybe they parked in the exterior lot.

The exit to the garage is also marked in the photo. I walked across the dirt path and entered the other lot. I headed towards the building, but the door was locked. (Why I wanted to enter the building is a mystery to me!) I then walked all the way around the building almost completing a full circle. I found myself along the main road, hoping to catch the car as it drove by.

I also made the great decision to walk towards the highway, which is not pictured, off to the right. After about fifteen minutes of walking, reality set in. “What the hell am I doing?” I thought. I realized that I had to go back to the hotel and find a ride.

I turned around and looked towards the hotel. It was far away, and on top of what appeared to be a mountain. I had two choices; I could either walk back, or sleep on the grass and find a cab in the morning. (Luckily, my cell phone was dead!) I wanted to sleep in the grass, but I have no aspirations of becoming a hobo, so I walked back. Actually, I should say I stumbled back!

I arrived at the base of the hotel, but around the corner from the garage entrance. (I marked the area with a green circle.) I looked up at the hotel and all I could see was a high rock wall. I knew how far the entrance to the garage was, and I decided to just make the climb. (Yes, I had on a suit and shoes!)

I made several attempts to climb to the summit, but I always slipped back to the ground after two or three steps. (My suit was ruined!) I realized I would probably end up killing myself if I continued, so I stopped climbing. I made the long trek to the garage entrance and walked all the way to the top.

Thankfully, my cousin Emilio was standing outside of a car. (I marked the spot at the end of the green line.) The driver was my cousin Teresita, and she was with her sister Elena. Teresita offered to bring me home after she dropped off Emilio, IN BRAINTREE! I was drunk, but I had enough sense to decline the ride because I wanted to get home ASAP. (I would explain the distances for Quincy and Braintree, but there is such a thing named Google maps!)

Luckily, another cousin was standing nearby. Danilo offered to give me a ride and I followed him back into the garage. There we met up with several other cousins and I passed out in the car while they discussed the latest CNN polls, or whatever men talk about after a wedding. A short trip later, I was in front of my house and the journey ended.

The following day, I saw Nestor and he mentioned that I neglected to give him the location of his Tahoe. He assumed it was in the garage and found it fairly quickly. (The location is also pictured!)