The Wimbledon Wedding

How's it going bros?

Pardon my absence, I was off attending the wedding of a childhood friend. And to those of you who enjoy the opinions of an aspiring wrestler with limited tennis ability, this should be something like a good day. I just drank a Malibu Red on the rocks *#NEYOmagic* and feel like blogging.

This wedding, to me, was more then just the coming together of one of my 2 friends I have kept up with prior to  my college years; fruits of living in 7 states in one's first 18 years of existence. It was something like a homecoming. The formal nature intertwined with the old faces of friends with weird Wisconsin accents and new folks whose impressive nature leaves a lasting impression. This wedding was like Wimbledon; assuming Wimbledon took place in Milwaukee in November.

It is no secret to anyone, I am a large fan of John Isner. He's an SEC boy who was born in North Carolina and moved to Georgia at age 18; sound like anyone else writing this? We share a mutual adoration for Shawn Michaels; though I am still inclined to believe both the Stone Cold Stunner and the People's Elbow made for better star power then the Sweet Chin Music. I even believe I resemble John Isner, minus 14 inches and 100 pounds; like anyone would notice that anyway.

Moreover, John Isner won over the respect of America, and much of the world, after defeating Nicolas Mahut in the Marathon Match at Wimbledon in 2010. The same match that spanned 3 days, 11 hours, 980 points, 183 games and some sort of out-of-control number of aces. His resolve, teamed with our mutually visually aesthetic appearance and basically same lifestyle, is the inspiration for my recount of my friends' wedding.

A Precursor: I had a lot of fun and a lot to drink on the day of the wedding. As it turns out, Milwaukee is a pretty easy place to find a drink. I had always figured that much, but this was evidence by the story I am about to tell you. I always considered myself a pretty big party guy in college and even today. But in college I never went on a virtually interruption 20-hour bender like I did Saturday. I now give you the 5 set marathon that was my drinking binge on the day of my best childhood friend's wedding. I fully expect you'll remember it like the marathon match was yesterday.

Ready. Set. BRO.

1ST SET

Saturday Morning 6 am:

I am in a house full of dudes. I slept on the floor with a pillow and a fitted bed sheet as a cover in anticipation for an early start to my childhood friend's wedding. I say this house was full of dudes, I mean this house was probably in the running for 2012 International House of Sausage Party of the Year. The groom, his 12 groomsmen and his 5 ushers, most of whom were throwers on the Marquette University track team were crammed into 1 very small house; lots of dude sweat.

What I believe to be insomnia, teamed with the temperature of the house being 500 degrees above the normal amount of adult men sleeping in such a confined quarter equaled one very early wake up call as evidence by the below equation:

Uneducated diagnosis of serious disease + Abundance of no shave November Contestants within 1000 Square feet of each other = 5 am wake up.

As all the other bros were causing a line that would remind you of a gas shortage around the coffee maker, I instead made moves towards the fridge full of beer with no line in front of it #TennisBro. Over the next 3 hours, the bro, and 17 other dudes would engage in what anyone else would do to celebrate a good buddies wedding; listen to Kashmir by Led Zep and tell old stories. I decided to drink 3 beers and stop after I reach the point where my arms fell light weight but my cheeks weren't glued in the s&*^ eating grin position.

SIDE NOTE: This state normally occurs after I get 2/3 of the way through A beer. Don't know how I lasted so long.

My ability to keep it in check and be able to be the groomsman that kept the others in fine form with my school boy charm and impressive dimples gave me the break of serve. 6-4, 1 set to 0.

2ND SET

1:30 pm Saturday

The wedding and the obscene amount of pictures necessary to take are finally over. I had my opportunities to break, but the unnecessary nature of posing in such ways that people utterly NEVER do for the pictures gets me irritated.

Full Disclosure: These can actually be a lot of fun if the groomsmen are as cool as my cohorts were at this wedding. I blame the freezing cold wind and the shade for my short patience with the pictures where 'serious faces' were necessary.

We now board a trolley car that stops at a liquor store. In typical fashion, the girls send the boys in to pay for everything including champagne that was never opened. In the spirit of being in Wisconsin, I went for the Miller Lite; which I had utterly 2 minutes to drink before the stopped the trolley for lunch. In this time I am offered a jack and coke by another groomsman; I declined thinking I should pace myself. The trolley stops and I have not drank away the pain the terrible rented shoes elicited on my feet #FAILCITY.

I am dealt a break and lose the set 3-6.

3RD SET

2:00 pm Saturday

The bridesmaids and groomsmen meet up at a very cool bar called Red Rocks. This place mistakes its existence in the Midwest for being in Texas; something I am totally on board with. The menu has brisket sliders and bbq quesadillas; which were like eating Aphrodite's tears.

I proceed to the bar to get a very Wisconsin-like beer. The bartender succeeded in giving a very dark one of some kind. I toast the death of an old friend to the purgatory of marriage with 4 other groomsmen. It is while drinking this eclectic brew and dominating some apps that pictures are taken while we sit on the bar. I'll be honest, probably would have been more rage if we had pool sticks and broken glasses and other roadhouse-type contraband, but we didn't.

I go for round 2, this time a new bartender decides she wants to card me; despite returning with a long neck in hand. She uses this as an opportunity to remind me that we're in Wisconsin and its weird that a guy from Mississippi is in her bar; gee I forgot, moron. I drink this beer down and talk shop with many people, just doing tennis bro stuff. And yet, despite having more to drink in 9 hours than I normally do in whole weekends, I am not intoxicated, I am tired.

The universe pulls a skinny break at 7 on my in the breaker, 6-7. I am getting dangerously close to losing this match.

POWER NAP.

4TH SET

5 pm Saturday

Reception time biotches. I use the 1-hour cocktail party to chat with some people I really didn't know at all year ago when I lived in Wisconsin. Truth be told, in most every case, I didn't really know most of these folks back then and was coming up a little short on things to talk about.

For the set's sake, there was an open bar.

In a span of 20 minutes I had 3 flutes of champagne. When the same waitress that was serving my the whole time asked for an ID on number 4, I turned my head to grab my wallet and she served 15 flutes of champagne to my tuxedo. When I say that I mean she spilled her whole tray of champagne on my lap. The manager, using a thick 'scayinsin accent, had this exchange with me.

-"You rented that tux right? It's not yours."
-"Yes sir, I did."
-"Ooooh okay. You want a bar rag or something?"
-"Yes sir please."

This bro came back with a bar rag and a beer; such a rad bro maneuver.

I can not tell you how many drinks total I had once inside the reception, I do know that at one point I had a champagne, cabernet, beer and empty beer in front of me; all of which were consumed. Now the boy is starting to feel the effects. My suit the next day the remnants of spilt red wine, beer and cupcake frosting on it; good thing it was a rental bros.

I manage a few NE-YO moves on the dance floor and grab road cupcakes; this set is mine mofos. I win the breaker at 3. To a decisive 5th we go.

5TH SET

Some point after telling time is no longer a capability of mine.

I am hanging out with a girl I went to high school with at this point. She is a blonde who is about as totally 'sconsin as you can get. By that I mean doesn't follow college football. We went to a bar called Trinity somewhere in Milwaukee. I ordered us a round of beers, we don't even dent them before she decides to order tequila shots.

SIDENOTE: How many tenses was that last string of thoughts in?

This is where the tone was set. We slammed our shots of whatever crap the waitress sent us and continued drinking Miller Lite or whatever other low quality brews we ordered; unimportant.

It's on now. Another groomsman ordered a round of irish car bombs. Feeling below the neck is sliding. It feels like this match has been going on for 2 days at this point. Now my lady friend from high school orders round 2 of tequila. I accept the shot knowing full well I am not going to be able to taste it or remember it; both of these prove to be false.

I am now at Stage 5 drunkness, my eyes are open about 1 mm as the lady orders ROUND 3. I tossed it back like a champion. I am gaining momentum; is this thing really spilling over to a 3rd day?

Now the memory is slipping by the wayside. I am unfamiliar with method of return to my hotel. in fairness, in a time span of some sort I have consumed a beer, a car bomb and 3 shots of tequila. I do recall saying good bye to my old friend; happy about it to given the fact it may be another decade until I head in that direction again.

Making it to my room and getting out my tuxedo was a major hold of serve. 69-68. The key to this win was waking up the next morning AFTER 8 am and free of any physical repercussions. True story, I haven't had a hangover since I was 20 the day of my older brother's college graduation. Alcohol has nothing on the bro. The actually break of serve didn't come until I walked up to my window shirtless, considerations of pure awesomeness, I proceed to beat my fists against my chest.. This catches the attention of several pedestrians on the very busy street my hotel was on, causing folks to point and one dude doubling over laughing at my awesomeness.

Break of serve!!

I take the 5th set 70-68. Judging by my text history, I would assume I wrapped up sometime around 3 am. Meaning the estimated time frame of consumption was over 20 hours. A feet I never came close to even in college. Everyone else I know is wilting away with age, I keep getting more and more awesome. There's your proof.

Congratulations to my old friend TJ and his new wife Cara. I hope y'all have a great time on the honeymoon in Hawaii and a life of happiness. Y'all better make good on my dibs call as the godfather of your kids.

More congrats go out to Novak BROkovic winning the Year End Championship. Though it still doesn't have the notoriety it should, its no picnic winning a tournament the top 8 players in the world compete in on plenty of rest. Enjoy all the points you have to defend your number 1 ranking with.

In celebration of Chad Kultgen's new novel the Average American Marriage coming out next year, my next post will be about my ledger I keep all of my work-related notes in.

Cheers

Billy Stein ~ The Tennis Bro