Brad Brown

 
I got married on April 3rd. This is my story.
 

Place Cards

My fiancée sent me to the FedEx Kinko’s (Store #1567) at noon to pick up the place cards, seven hours before the wedding. I was greeted at the print center by a sheepish Indian named Alex. “I’m here to pick up the place cards for the Long/Brown wedding,” I said. After searching under every counter, a look of awareness dawned on his face, and he walked slowly back over. “I’m sorry. We used the wrong paper (because you were high?), and I’ll have to reprint them. It’ll be 2:30 before they’ll be ready. But we can deliver them to you when we’re finished. I know it’s your wedding day and the last thing you need is a screw-up with the place cards.” “Excellent, my man,” I replied. “Send them to this address in the Rancho Relaxo subdivision.” I scribbled my address on a card and left the store.
 
2:30 came and went, but alas, the place cards were never delivered. At 2:45, I called Kinko’s and axed to speak to Alex. “Which one do you want?” the woman axed, “We have two employees by that name.” “Fantastic. I’d like to speak to the stoner in the print shop who looks like the Indian guy from the Harold and Kumar movie.” “One moment,” she replied. Seconds later, Alex answered. “Alex - it’s Brad Brown - calling about the place cards.” “Oh yeah, let me call the delivery guy….[on hold]…They’ll be there at 3:30.” “Sweet f**k Alex, I won’t be here at 3:30. Deliver them to the DoubleTree Hotel, where my fiancée is at.”
 
Never use vulgar language with a passive-aggressive print-shop employee making minimum wage - it’ll only make things worse. In our case, Alex had them delivered to the actual wedding venue at 5:30 without informing anyone, while my fiancée waited miles away at the hotel for the delivery.
 
Early the next morning, under the cover of darkness, I cut the brake lines to his Geo Metro, and thus the cycle of aggression was complete.

 

And Your People Shall Be My People

After the sixth time that the Reverend Cleotus Jefferson referred to my fiancée as Misty, she leaned forward, gently tapped him on the lapel, and said “My name is Christy.”
 
“Sorry,” he apologized, and then he continued on with the ceremony, referring to her as Christy once, before reverting to Misty for the rest of the ceremony.
 

A Best Man’s Toast to Brad

“I have known Brad for a little over a decade now. He is the only person I know who has mastered the art of the CraigsList posting, as his late night antics have become legendary in certain circles.”

 
You could have heard a pin drop.
 

It’s a Small World

At the brunch the day after the wedding, I was sitting with my nephew, chatting about his upcoming career decisions.

“I’ve got a phone interview with Disney today,” said Billy Brown-Montague (of the Texas Montagues).
 
“Aren’t you worried about the little kids running up full force and ramming their heads into the crotch of your Mickey Mouse costume?” I asked.
 
“No. I’ll take testicular trauma over unemployment any day,” he replied.

 

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