Moffitt

My cousin got married a couple weeks ago at the Shore. The wedding was great: short ceremony, open bar, and most of my cousins were there. There's not really much more one can hope for. Well perhaps besides that all my cousins would have been there. It was a jovial but sophisticated reception. People mingled, chatted, smiled and laughed in celebration of Mike and Sarah having made the whole thing official. As a backdrop a classically trained guitar player strummed and sang away in pitch perfect harmony. Eventually, during dinner, the best man took to the front of the room where he spoke for about 15 minutes. He wasn't funny, nor was he trying to be, but my brother for some reason laughed deliriously and continuously throughout his speech despite the fact that the bridegroom was standing right behind our table. We took turns kicking him under the table but these attempts at shutting him up fell on apparently indestructible shins. The rest of the room sat at their tables and listened intently.

But then it happened.....

Tarzan? Everyone in the room turned around in their chairs to find some guy standing at the bar doing a pitch perfect (a theme of this wedding apparently) Tarzan yell. Moose was so confused that she clapped and nodded, thinking this was somehow a choreographed addition to the speech portion of the evening. It was one of the funnier things I’ve ever heard or seen. Moments later the speech resumed as though nothing had happened. Only we couldn't stop laughing.

It'd become apparent to me that my dad was drunk when he told my Uncle Bob that my brother and I do impressions of him because we love him (immediately after I had finished doing an impression of him). Saying weird shit like that isn't his style under almost all circumstances. And by "weird shit" I mean 'love' isn't a word I knew he could spell let alone use in a sentence. Be that as it may, I still never could have predicted what was to follow.... Errrrrrr, maybe I should have. After the speeches had concluded, the guitar player strummed the opening chords of "Danny Boy". As soon as my dad stood up the five of us knew exactly what was about to happen. We all looked at each other, muttering things like "oooohhhhh nooooooooooo" and "what should we doooooo?????" Meanwhile, he took to the front of the room where he snatched the mic and began stumbling his way through the first verse. I looked around for some sort of verbal or postural feedback from the bride and her family. Was this okay? Did we have to forcibly escort my dad off the stage? A testament to the bride I suppose, she at least appeared to be pleased with the whole thing. This was officially happening.

The guitar player actually tried to cut him off after one verse. He stopped playing and readjusted the mic so that he could resume his duties as the paid musical entertainment... But my dad grabbed the mic back, blabbering, “No-no-no, second verse!” I don’t usually get embarrassed, but I was officially mortified during this brief scuffle over the mic. When it became apparent that my dad wasn't going to back down, the guitar player relented. It got worse before it got better, though, when he forgot some of the words in the second verse and had to look to matriarchal/geriatric table for the assistance that would allow him to find his way.