Putting the FUN in Funeral
Recently, I went to a funeral, and, as usual, at funerals, old stories come up, and not necessarily about the deceased. This one involved a few ex-in-laws and an ex-wife.
Back in the whatever days, when my then wife’s sister was about to be married, we had a bachelor party at a comedy club in West Orange (Rascals, I believe) for her soon-to-be-husband. There were about eight of us, and before the show we had a few drinks, then dinner. Arlene’s oldest brother Jimmy had been drinking Manhattans all night, but when it came time to order food, the waiter asked if he’d like another one.
“No,” he said with authority, “I do not drink during dinner.”
He then proceeded to order a bottle of red wine.
I guess our definitions of drinking were not quite the same.
After dinner, we proceeded to the downstairs theater, where we watched a series of comedians. More drinks were ordered, and by the time the show ended, we were all pretty drunk. Jimmy alone had two drinks to every one of mine.
After the show, upstairs in the bar, as we waited for the limo to take us home, the bartender looked at me, my eyes red, mouth slack, elbows slumped, and promptly cut me off.
“Thank you,” I said with all sincerity. I could not continue to drink along with Jimmy.
“How about you,” the bartender turned to Jimmy, “should I cut you off as well?”
Jimmy put down his drink, stepped back from the bar, lifted both arms from his side, and proceeded with a surgeon’s precision to rapidly touch the tip of his nose, right hand after left, for a good thirty seconds.
The bartender refreshed his drink.
The limo ride home was uneventful, although at some point in the night, someone threw up (it might have been me, I really don’t remember).
The next morning, very hungover, and trying to eat breakfast, Arlene peppered me with question about the bachelor party. I told her the above, and any other tidbits that might have survived my memory purge.
Then she asked me the question that reminds me one of the reasons we are no longer married.
“Did the comedians make fun of you?”
I paused, not sure why she would ask. In a theater filled with people, why would the comedians make fun of me.
So, I replied, “Why?”
“You know,” she said with a complete straight face, “because of your big nose.”
Can you feel the love?
