Rich's big, phat Greek wedding

Rich and Christina tied the knot Sunday. The reception was held at the Seattle Tennis Club, the tres exclusive club of the Seattle social elite. The waiting list to become a member is said to be five years long. I am tempted to fire off some socialist humor, but I harbor hopes of befriending a member who will then take me there to hit around on the immaculate courts, so I'll hold my tongue.
Greek wedding's offer some traditional group dances which are a lot of fun after a few cocktails. One minute you're standing at the edge of the dance floor, enjoying a drink, watching the family members dance in a giant line that swirls in on itself, and then suddenly a Greek woman grabs you and you're in the line, being pulled along into the center, side shuffling on a dance floor covered with dollar bills. It's a nice change-of-pace from the usual motley wedding bunch of the young and old, awkwardly trying to dance to music from each other's generations while dressed in formal attire.
The tradition I most enjoy from weddings is the best man speech. Nothing against the maid of honor speech, but women are just much sweeter and sentimental about the whole thing. Men have no qualms about embarrassing each other in front of their future in-laws, and in fact it has become a tradition to do so. How did it become so? I have no idea.
The audience is always riveted because the mix of alcohol and the heady emotions of the moment always leave open the possibility that the best man will inadvertently slip up and humiliate the groom. It's the turning point of every evening. When else will your best buddy give you an open mike to address his entire extended family about his personal character? What power. What responsibility. Wisely, none of us at table 18 were asked to speak about Rich. Smart move.
On a side note: yes, if I gave a best man speech, I would end with the line, "Before we're done here, we're all gonna be wearing gold-plated diapers." Hopefully one or two people would understand and laugh.
[By the way, the winning bet on when the DJ would play I Will Survive was the over on 8:45pm. I can understand thematically why the wedding DJ canon includes staples like We Are Family and Celebration, but the message of Gloria Gaynor's girl power dance tune seems out of place at an event joining a man and woman.]
Hopefully Rich's marital status won't turn him into a pumpkin. The guys gathered for an outing to the M's-BoSox game on Friday night, and his absence was conspicuous. It just wasn't the same, sitting there feigning Boston accents without our resident Mayor Quimby.
[Yet again, Jamie Moyer was starting. I think he has started every Mariners game I've ever been to. If it wasn't for television replays, I'd be convinced that Moyer starts every M's game. He throws about 50 mph, so he shouldn't put much stress on my arm. It's possible. For a change, though, this time Ichiro shook of the jinx of having me in the crowd and smacked a grand slam to lead the M's to victory.]