Of all the summer holiday weekends; Memorial Day is possibly the best. It’s the unofficial beginning of summer. Crashing someone’s barbeque is always okay, so long as you show up with a case of beer and a few bags of ice to toss in a massive cooler. You get to enjoy overcooked burgers that resemble hockey pucks and shriveled up hot dogs served up by your drunken grill master all day long. It usually provides for your first good weathered memory of a family member or friend getting really drunk and saying/doing something that may be embarrassing for them, but hilarious for all in attendance. Simply put, it’s great.
Much to my dismay, I just received a wedding invitation for the Saturday of this awesome weekend. After your 27th birthday or so, you come to accept that you will have to put aside one or two Saturdays every three months or so for some wedding or kid birthday party. What you never expect is for someone to take your great weekend hostage by forcing you to trade your cargo shorts (you need the extra pocket to carry that road beer home after the barbeque) for a suit and tie. So while PTU readers are enjoying good times, I’ll be watching two people exchange vows, followed by an indoor cocktail hour, a buffet and then some terrible entree. WTF?
