Sunday, July 18th, 2004

I’m hanging out with everyone after our wedding in Kentucky. We’re looking through a screen door to the yard outside. Everyone is milling around and talking. One woman we know (who’s a bit of a slut) is mounting herself on a man (maybe her boyfriend). She’s trying to be subtle about it but it’s pretty obvious to everyone.

The house we’re in becomes a train and we pull off without the copulating couple. One of our friends (a bald guy in his 40s) almost hits his head on the low ceiling. As our train travels slowly towards town, I look around the room and mentally prepare my thank-you’s. I ask someone where (Derrick or Roderick – a black friend of ours and maybe the boyfriend of the slut) is. Someone tells me they flew home and got into a fight. I ask, “They flew back into town?” Someone says, “No, they took a cab back to town but got into a fight and got kicked off their flight. I shake my head in disbelief and say, “Well, let’s at least get our wedding pictures from him.”