October 1, 1999

So there I was, hanging out with Chet at the wedding reception Sunday, when he turned and asked me if I needed another drink.

I looked down at the half-full glass of Boulevard Wheat in my hand and started slamming.

It was then that he told me he was getting married.

My reaction?

I spit up and sprayed my beer all over the old people in front of me and grabbed him for the biggest bear hug known to man.

Then I told him I could use another drink.

It’s not that I’m surprised. I mean he and Sydney have been seeing each other longer than Britney Spears has been able to drive, but it still caught me just a little off guard.

This is my roommate, after all.

My first thought was that things were going to be weird with a married guy as a roommate next year, but then he broke the bad news to me. The two of them are going to find their own place.

Granted, the good thing about this whole deal is that Eddie and I will have fewer dishes to do, but it still sucks that he’s leaving us.

Yeah, yeah, I’m happy for the two of them. I mean, how could I not be excited that one of the world’s last gentlemen is marrying one of the nicest girls I know.

It’s a match made in heaven. Or Aurelia.. I just can’t help but think about the good old days.

When I first met him, he was already a regular at People’s while I was sneaking in with my third cousin’s ID. He had the connections, I had a couple Captain Cokes. Thus, a friendship was born.

Through the years he’s tried to keep me on the right path, but he’s never had a problem having fun with me when I was going full steam down the wrong ones.

He taught me how to play the tambourine, install a car radio and build a big wooden box with wheels that you could put just about anything in.

Of course, that box now sits empty in our garage taking up a parking place, but it’s some hellacious handiwork.

He was there for me when I got dumped by each of my former likes and in return for the support, I slapped him around, kicked him in the gut and threw ice water on his head when he couldn’t quite stay awake one night when Sydney was coming over. Friends are always there for each other.

Then there was the time when I didn’t have a way home from the bar, and he let me ride in the back of his truck even though he was on a date.

It was late November. I had short sleeves and had lost my coat. He drove around for five miles and then slammed on the brakes sending me headfirst into the spare tire as he and his lady friend laughed hysterically. That hurt.

But that’s OK because he’s now engaged to that lady friend, and if I was able to entertain them for a night, then I don’t mind the frostbitten fat lip.

So, the planning process is in motion for next summer’s festivities, and we couldn’t be more excited.

Eddie’s in charge of refreshments, and I’m in charge of live entertainment.

I’m thinking of hiring the band we saw Sunday night at Jason and Steph’s wedding.

When one of The Nadas gets married, the entire night is a musical extravaganza. It started with Boner and the boys singing the romantic ballad “Lovegun” by Kiss so that the bride and groom had to smooch and ended with me singing “Ice, Ice Baby” and “Humpty Dance” as Paul Wright helped out on guitar.

Instead of hiring a band, they decided to let the wedding party and guests entertain the masses. It was entertaining, if not from a musical standpoint, then for its comical content.

Any time the musicians can simply switch instruments in the middle of the song or learn the piece moments before it begins, you can tell something special is happening.

The highlight of the night could have been when a dozen of us — including Chet on drums and me on bongos — knocked out a 10-minute rendition of “With or Without You” by U2. Chet sweat through his suit, I bruised both of my hands and we both smiled and realized that this was yet another moment that we’d never forget.

And I didn’t even need my third cousin’s ID.