JANUARY 11, 2008
HURRICANE MIRA

You without sin can cast the first stone. We've all done things on a whim we might not do otherwise. We get bad haircuts. We buy kittens and cars and sweater vests. We order another round.

I got married.

Let me just start by pointing out that Shawn's bitterness about missing the whole affair is entirely misplaced. He can hold all the grudges he wants about the fact that I had a goat as a best man instead of him, but he's forgetting that he wouldn't have come to the ceremony anyway. He was unavailable. It was summertime and he was selling ice cream or lemonade at an All-Star game in Seattle or Milwaukee or Chicago or somewhere.

Don't get me wrong, it would have been nice to hear Shawn deliver his long-ago prepared best man speech (it sure would have beat the goat's) but in retrospect, it probably would have been wasted on me. After all, I was, er, compromised. Between Mexico, Goldschlager, and Hurricane Mira, the whole marriage thing just seemed like a good idea at the time.

But then, that's the nature of impulsive behavior, right? It always seems like a good idea at the time, until you find yourself hanging from a ski lift by the elastic of your undershorts, but that's another story.

As far as my vows are concerned, I'll only say that it was a long time ago, and I don't regret a minute of it, mostly because I really don't remember a minute of it. Again, the Goldschlager. If you're learning anything from this, just remember moderation is the key when it comes to that stuff. Sure, it tastes like cinnamon, but so do Hot Tamales, and consuming those in excess is much less likely to land you in some kind of legally binding situation that may require annulment later. Just saying.

And while you're at it, consider yourself warned that while what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, what happens in Mexico just might hire a private detective to track you down and follow you while you're trying to have a good time at the batting cages.

Which brings us to Mira, and what's to say? She was perfect and I was perfectly sloshed. She was everything I never knew I always wanted. She could turn a shot of 151 into a fireball that could make Gene Simmons re-examine his own technique. And given all the variables in that equation, I can at least be thankful that marrying Mira was all that happened.

But then, I may never be sure of everything that happened during my lost weekend with Hurricane Mira, but it's all good. Sometimes the best memories are the ones we forget.