Brother's Wedding

It was August 8, 1999 and my brother had made a trip down to see me at my flat in Woolloomooloo. The occasion was a gridiron match (apparently the only official NFL sanctioned match to be ever played in this country) at the Olympic Stadium at Homebush between the Denver Broncos and the San Diego Chargers. For the record, Denver got up in the last minutes of the game to win 20 to 17.

We retired afterwards to the East Sydney Hotel, which was my watering hole at the time (and probably the best pub that I have ever set foot in) for a couple of drinks. I had, at my brother's insistence, snuck in some scotch in a hip flask into the stadium that had not been confiscated at the gate (very unlike me I must say) and we were already in a merry state by the time we had arrived there. As it turns out, my brother needed a bit of Dutch courage, for he had something important to ask me. How would I like to be his best man?

I was stunned. I asked why not some of his other friends, but I can't recall the exact answer he gave. Whatever the case, he wanted me for the job, and I couldn't really say no. I accepted, and we proceeded to drink until it was time for him to be picked up by his wife to be.

At weddings, I generally try to get involved, for a I don't like being a spectator at these events. I have videod enough of these events for friends (and family, doing both my sister's wedding and my father's second wedding) or even being the MC. But on January 9 2000, I was to put on a tuxedo, and play an essential part of the day. I recall it was a very warm (around 38 degrees), more so seeing I was in a suit. The priest was late for the service, having been pulled over by the police en-route to the venue (which was a public garden on the outskirts of town) and by the time of the reception, I was exhausted, but merry, seeing I had consumed a few drinks whilst we were ferried around Tamworth for the wedding photographs.

The highlight of the evening for me was my best man's speech, which was well received. Then there was the bridal waltz. The two other groomsmen had partners who were pregnant at the time, so I was thankful mine wasn't. Dad had told me afterwards that he had never seen me happier when I was dancing with the maid of honour. I think, at the time, he was hinting that perhaps it was my turn to get hitched.

I recall the night ended with me having a quiet drink in one of the pubs downtown around midnight, then taking a taxi back to my brother's place. It had truly been a great day, but by that time, I was quite exhausted.