Of Explanations And Excuses

A little bit of one, but not so much of the other.

So I just got back from spending time out in Dallas to visit the original Dude, my Dad. He and his wife hosted me out at their home for a very long weekend. I went home, well, the one place where I lived with family the longest until I came here to Charlotte, to attend the wedding of a friend of mine.

Fireman Dave and I have been friends since elementary school. Which, just for those of you who don’t know, is a long time ago. Maybe not that long, but certainly not last week.

Anyway.

I went back to Dallas and did not bring my laptop. I was going to try keeping up using only an iPad or other similar items. Just so you know? The iPad didn’t work at all well when I was trying to update the site.

For everything else, the brilliant little device worked, well, brilliantly. For the Guide? Crap. Not sure what that’s trying to tell us, but there it is. All of which helps to explain why I’ve not been here in a while.

The wedding was fantastic. Fireman Dave and His Beloved Sherri made for a great couple. It also made for an interesting wedding.

I don’t call Fireman Dave a fireman for nothing. He really is a firefighter with the Dallas Fire Department. So there were a bunch of folks from his house there. Imagine, a room full of firefighters. Professionals.

Then the fire alarm goes off. Blaring sirens, strobing lights, all that jazz. It spoke to something deep inside each and every one of us, telling us it was time to go, run for the hills and don’t stop.

No one, and I mean no one, no civilian, no firefighter, no one, so much as flinched.

The music played on. The dancing continued, only with a different beat, and not a single person headed toward the door.

This lasted for all of about five minutes when the DJ announced that, sorry, but we had to evacuate the building.

It turns out, there really was no fire. The DJ had set off a fog machine a few minutes before the alarm triggered. Turns out fog machines and smoke alarms don’t get along all that well.

We had to trudge out into the night, which, thankfully wasn’t the frigid night before, and stand around and talk for a while. Just long enough, in fact, for a fire truck to cruise by — no lights or sirens — and then flip on all the noisemakers and light shows right next to the party. I figure it was someone stopping by to say hello to Fireman Dave on the night of his nuptials.

Long story short, great party. I got to read a epithalamium, which for the approximately 99.96 percent of you who don’t know what that is (and I include myself in that large percentage, or I did until my dad dropped the word on me), means a song or poem in honor of a bride or groom.

It was a poem. Recited to the tune of The Ballad of Jed Clampet. No, really.

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