Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
This past weekend my brother Smokey's son Blinky got married. Two years in the planning, the affair was nothing less than spectacular. Full on Catholic (with a big C") ceremony, bridesmaids, groomsmen, double best men and matrons of honor, tuxes, froo-froo gowns, tenors in the balcony, a smiling priest, videographers and camera girl danced the matrimonial dance. We all guessed at the price tag. No one was talking, but I'd put it way up near 50k. That may sound reasonable to some of you out there. If it does, we have nothing in common. Since this is family I'll bite my tongue and back away from sermonizing over the opulent waste. You can guess what I would say, given the oportunity.
As decadent as the ceremony was, it paled in comparison to the reception. Imagine Tavern on The Green- CT style. Lights, fountains, open bar, DJ, prime rib, fancy sweets, and more, and more, and.... At midnight the father of the bride and father of the groom ponied up some more cash to keep it going for another half hour. Then the shuttle buses started ferrying the drunk guests back to the Holiday Inn (where 50 rooms were rented for the crowd). Here's where the fun started. My shitfaced nephew Rocky ended up swapping spit with the drunkest girl at the party. Like matching socks finding each other in the dryer, these two plastered individuals, who had not even spoken the entire evening, ended up dry humping in the front of the shuttle van, as relatives looked on in horror. Later he would claim he was "blind sided". Blond sided was more like it.
Once back at the hotel we room hopped for a a matter of minutes before the cops showed up. It seems a few of the frat boy guests had come back early and one of Smokey's buds (a lawyer no less), had it out with security calling him a "cocksucker", amongst other things. Five-O was promptly called. Now, it's usually your humble narrator that ends up in the shit with the law, but this time the cops blew past me screaming at some Corona holding college student to get back in his rooms, and when I turned to face the gun toting gentlemen they said- "Not you sir. You're fine." I smiled and nodded. "Keep up the good work officers." I said giving them the thumbs up. "I paid for a good night's sleep." Then I found another room full of beer and drunks and continued the mayhem. God bless the happy couple.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The alarm clicks first. Then it goes off. It's 5:30 am. Plan is to get in the woods by 6:30am. I make the field by 6:45 am. There's three does grazing peacefully. The sun is up enough for a shot. I scope the girls and head for my stand. Half way there, three more does bust out of the woods by the river and bolt across the field followed by a nice buck (6 or 8 point). I drop to one knee and push the safety off. I should take the running shot but don't. They all disappear in the swamp. I duck in the woods and continue to the stand. Then i see one of the does come out of the swamp followed by the buck. I find a tree to steady the gun and dial the scope to max. It's 200 + yards. Christ it's a long shot. I try to steady the cross hairs as some asshole up on the road drives by blaring the horn. I shoot.
This is the story I'm telling to Junie Bogart, Bird, the old man, Milawyer, his old man, Cousin Steve Snyder and who ever else will listen, over beers and chili at Bird's house at the end of the first day of gun season '06. I'm the only one in the crowd who has taken a shot this day, so the floor is mine. Everyone listens (sort of) in between jabs, swigs of beer, and spoonfulls of chili. "My first mistake was not taking the running shot." I confess. I shoot. The buck hunches... I think. Then i look and the scope and realize i've dialed to 3 not 9. No wonder he looked so far away. I fucked up. "I never touched him." I admit and go for another beer.
These nights are precious and there won't be a lot more of them in our future. The old timers can hardly get up the hill anymore. But tonight no one gives that a second thought and we all tell war stories of shit we did as kids, and the 80 year olds and the 50 year olds square off and laugh and laugh. And my mom's in the other room with Junie and Milawyer's mom giggling and telling their own stories and Vic warns me not to put his name on the internet and I'll tell you- I'll put this bunch up against anyone in this world. Goddamnit I'll miss 'em when the crowd starts to thin. And you thought deer hunting was nothing but drunk yahoos filling blaze orange fart bladders.