Wedding Essays

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Ahh...Czech!

9/27/05

There was a moment...I think it was, no, I KNOW it was the moment when I was sitting on a bus in the Czech Republic going from Brno to Prostejov, a small town about three hours east of Prague, and not only did I have the worst case of swamp ass I had ever had, I was sitting on a bus where EVERYONE had the worst case of swamp ass they had ever had, since the entire bus stank of human sweat pollution, I hadn't slept in more than a day and I wasn't 100% sure I would get off at the right stop in this really remote town in a foreign country on a bus where I spoke no Czech (my fault) and no one else spoke any English (nobody's fault) and I was partially delirious when I said

I AM never TRAVELING OUTSIDE OF MY COUNTRY EVER FUCKING AGAIN.

Needless to say, the last of six weddings this year--for my friend Brian "Schmoove" Prenoveau and his lovely Czech wife Lucie--did NOT get off to a good start.

Lucie and her sister Zuzy, with extra whipped cream

After doing a flight from National to Toronto, I had a five-hour layover before flying from Toronto to Prague.  I met up in Prague with Nat, a friend of Lucie's from Australia (and you thought I had it bad--no way!), and we began a truly classic circus of transportation, going by bus to the Prague city center, by foot to the Prague bus station, by bus to a town called Brno, by foot to a different bus station in Brno, by bus to the wedding destination of Prostejov, and after looking for a cab for about an hour (in pouring rain, no less) we got a cab from the bus station to the pension where we were staying for the weekend.  Total time from my apartment in Rockville to the pension in Prostejov:  28 hours.  Talk about needing a shower.

But like everyone else that had to come a long way to get to the wedding ceremony--held in Lucie's home town of Prostejov, a town so small you can walk the city limits from end to end in about 45 minutes--once the focus was on the happy couple, everyone's spirits got a big lift right away.  This being my second trip to the Czech Republic (I went five years ago to Prague with my friend Laura), I can also say this as a repeat offender:  damn, I love those Czech people, their love of American's 80s music, their affinity for unbelievably cheap 190-proof liquor, and most of all, their food.

Ahh, Czech.

The American suspects that Brian invited to the wedding, matched with Lucie, her sister Zuzy (short for, I think, Zuzinka, but "Zuzy" just sounds much cooler), and a couple other English-speaking Czech friends that were in attendance, made for a solid crew for the weekend.  Between Brian's friends from school (Miami of Ohio), his cousins Julie and Tom and Julie's boyfriend Jeremy, Brian's bro Kevin and his wife Nikki and the world-famous Prenoveau Parents, man, I spent a solid three days laughing my head off.  Who even knows where to kick it off?  The main action took place between my first minute in Prostejov Friday night and the end of the wedding/reception night on Sunday, so I'll try to recap as best I can.

---

Oh yes, my friends...the poison awaits

Friday:  Beware the Absinthe

As I mentioned, I was just thankful to have made it to Prostejov on Friday night; the ordeal of the day had left me exhausted but anxious to do some hangin' out, Czech-style.  The crew eventually met up at a bar about two minutes' walk away from the pension where I was staying and everyone got the chance to meet each other.

Everyone hit it off right away.  This was aided by the fact that the average Czech pint was running about 18 crowns (75 cents) a piece, and many of us had had a long day in transit.  The math on this was assorted--and rather sordid:  Brian's buddy Greg (another groomsman, like myself) claimed to have about 30 pints, Tom was downing more pints than I could count and I was double-fisting pints and Smirnoff Ice (import price: $1.25 a piece) while trying to stuff my face full of pizza since I hadn't eaten in almost a full day.  Around midnight, I had already decided that I was done drinking for the weekend (more on that in a moment) when Jeremy walked up to me and threw out what are now certainly in the "famous last words" category:

"You wanna try a shot of absinthe?"

I remember saying no, but the pictures I have seem to indicate that I was not very convincing:  I looked up to see the attractive woman behind the bar laughing while pouring two shots of very bluish-green liquid into very un-shot shot glasses.  She then had a co-worker explain in very broken English what was happening:

"Take sugar cube put on spoon set on fire dip in glass drink drink drink!"

Following these instructions, Jeremy and I--while looking like we were playing out a scene from "New Jack City"--proceeded to dip a burning sugar cube into our glass of absinthe and immediately downed the shot to the amusement of the assembled gringo crowd around us.  Conclusion:  the hot, burning sensation in my throat for the next 20 minutes convinced me that I will never do that again.  Second conclusion:  there IS a reason why that shit is illegal in the U.S., not the least of which is that we Americans are drinking pussies compared to our European counterparts.  Wow, that was some strong shit.

By 1:30, I had had about a dozen drinks and a couple of shots, and I decided that I would sleep until noon the next day before trying that again.  Ahh, Czech.

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Dumplings, beef stew, potato pancakes...and a boatload of "extra" gravy

Saturday:  Mic Czech

After getting up at noon, I decided I needed to shower.  The tricky part there--much like the other places I stayed at on this trip--was that we had a pretty sweet tub in our rooms, but no shower, save for a removable shower head to wash ourselves off but no shower stall or curtain to keep water from going...well, everywhere in our bathroom.  Result?  A damned ocean of water on my bathroom floor after trying to wash myself, a comedy unto itself the first time around and further proof that those shower stall walls are there for a reason.  I will say this--I hadn't taken a traditional bath since I was a kid, no lie, and I had forgotten how cool it is to sit in a big ol' tub of hot water and hang out for half an hour.  Sumptuous!

Anyway, the daytime was a breeze--eat big dumpling and potato pancake-heavy meal; try not to fall asleep again; go bowling with the crew and Lucie's family, drink even more booze while trying to knock down pins at the alley.  The crew had bonded well enough by this point that everyone was hamming it up and getting along gloriously; the beauty of a small wedding in a remote location is that the people have to come together quickly, and we had a zero asshole ratio on this trip so you never felt like you had to shy away from anyone, which is truly rare in these types of cases.  With bowling, "everyone's a winner", so despite going from a 145-pin game to a 40-pin game, I didn't really give a shit as long as everyone was playing things for laughs. 

Nat, Jess & Anita wonder: where can one get one's groove on?

After finishing up with bowling, I decided that this trip would not be complete without at least a hint of dancing before the reception, so I asked Zuzy if there were any clubs in this tiny town, to which she responded

"Oh, you like to dance, eh?"

which was music to my ears.  About a dozen of us moved the party from the alley to the local disco, and at 11 PM, we walked inside...and we were CLEARLY too early for the main action.  (Our crew of 12 doubled the total number of people in the bar, to give you an idea.)  So, after buying a round for everyone (total price for 10 bottles of Stella Artois:  $14), I got out to the floor and dragged a couple others with me...and, soon, all 12 of us were out there shakin' a rump.  Was my favorite moment of the night when the DJ would announce each song in Czech while Anita--the 37-year-old Energizer Bunny that showed up everyone on the trip with her wide array of old-skool moves--would yell and scream as if she had any idea what the DJ was saying?  Was it watching Nate "Boozalot" McClung nearly drive his wife Jess insane with anger?  Was it the fact that the Czech clubgoers were clearly scared that the Americans had come to their small town and tried to flagrantly buy every piece of it in one short weekend?  Was it that earlier that day, Anita promised to show off her moves from "Footloose"...and then got her chance, when the DJ remixed a song from the "Footloose" soundtrack with a hot techno beat?

Ahh...Czech.

---

Brian and I, fully dressed for the last time on the wedding night

Sunday:  Cry Me a River

I met up with the other groomsmen at noon the next day, anxious for the main event--the wedding, almost an afterthought the previous two days since all we had basically done was eat, drink, commute and go dancing.  Without a rehearsal dinner, Brian laid down the schedule in our groomsman tête-à-tête, showing us all the news that was fit to print.  The big difference here was that this wedding was going to be run not in a church, but in the Prostejov Town Hall, in front of a Magistrate, not a priest.  The ceremony, with only 35 guests, was also open to the public, so arriving at the town hall was weird since about 20 Czech citizens just came strolling in to stand at the back of the hall to watch the nuptials.

The ceremony was beautiful, in an ornate hall room that had pictures of what one would assume to be a mix of former Czech national leaders and local former Magistrates that have run the business of the city.  The two things that caught me: first, the fact that right after the Magistrate tells you your wedding is official, you get to drink champagne with her in front of everyone along with your best man and maid of honor.  This is cool.  The second thing--the one that not even Brian and Lucie saw coming--was that the Magistrate asked Lucie to not forget about where she came from, basically acknowledging that the bastard American had come in and taken one of Czech's own back to his home country but that Lucie shouldn't forget where home is and to raise her kids to know they too should not forget to recognize their heritage.  Certainly, I thought this to be a bit unorthodox, but it was effective and was a polite, professional way to say to Lucie that she had better be sure to come back home and visit.

What I didn't see coming was that every Czech person in attendance--and a good share of the Americans at the ceremony--was going to absolutely lose it and break down into tears in such a way that even the Magistrate lost it, temporarily halting the proceedings to wipe a few tears away.  This was a solid sign of things to come, as the rest of the day was filled with more crying than any other wedding I have been to; in a year full of firsts, this one was a hands-down sale in terms of comparison.  I've never seen so many people cry during a wedding and reception combination, and the amazing part was seeing who led the pack in Tears Per Minute when all was said and done.

That would be Lucie's dad, a man that spent so much time crying that by the reception, almost every single action completed by Lucie, her sister, or Lucie's mom made the man cry.  Even when I watch the last 15 minutes of "Glory"--the only thing that guarantees my ManTears, save for personal tragedy--I don't cry as much as Lucie's dad did on her wedding day.  Sure, it wasn't without reason, it was just that it seemed like the floodgates opened about 20 times, complete with quivering lip and chin movements, to the point where even he tried to laugh about how much he was crying...all through an even bigger waterfall of tears.

Dad (I call him that now) was great the whole day; in fact, over the course of the next few hours, Dad and I continued the bonding we had started at bowling the night before and during the nuptials earlier in the day, by constantly giving each other a solid head nod or a fist pound as we crossed paths.  Even as I write this, I get a little choked up because Dad and I clearly had a bond, even if neither one of us spoke the other's language, thanks to having a common person in our lives that means a ton.  By the end of the night, Dad and I gave each other this big hug before he left for home; even during this hug, Dad lost it, which almost made me lose it, which led to more big bear hugs.  Damn, it was beautiful.  What did Dad do for me as a parting gift?  Well, naturally, he gave me this vodka that is so acidic that even the Czech people were doing shots of it in small doses; I haven't even opened it since I left Czech because I'm afraid it's so much like rocket fuel that if I spill any it will automatically burn my apartment down.

Ahh, Czech.

The men prepare for an introduction to "Czech tradition"

The reception was nice, for the most part; as the first reception I've been to that was completely run on an iPod, our music was top-notch, the company was great, the dancing was lively (although certainly not as crazed as the previous night, thanks to MUCH less boozing) and the speeches all touching.  There were strange Czech traditions like a game where the bride was blindfolded and had to feel the bare chests of six men to figure out which of them was her real husband; this made for some good times, especially when Lucie felt up all six men and then narrowed it down to me and her real husband Brian.  Boy, THAT woulda been awkward had she picked wrong there, eh?  The dinner staff brought out a second dinner around 10 PM that included cold cuts and enough desserts for 50 hungry adults, let alone 35 fed ones.  And, there was so much beer and wine available at the reception that I literally went cold turkey on the booze and began drinking Fanta Orange Soda the rest of the trip just so I could wean myself off of beer for a couple of weeks.

Things wrapped up around midnight and I went up to my room to chill for about an hour, just sitting in the room thinking about this year's wedding season.  Although I have been invited to more than six weddings in a year three times now, I had never made it to as many weddings in any one year as the two-double-oh-five, and the exhaustion just kind of hit me right there when I realized how many good friends of mine tied the knot this year.  The bigger wallop?  Realizing how many good friends of mine are still due to lock up a long-term contract with a special someone in the next couple of years.

Man, I don't think this cycle is ever going to end.  Since my first wedding of 2006 is only six months away--in Puerto Vallarta, no less--I guess I better start sockin' that cash away...

 

Random Bellviews, courtesy of Bell & Longer Community Trust:

• Red silk ties:  Opening Weekend

• The Czech sights:  $9.50 Show

• The Czech, ahem, "sights":  Matinee

• Showing up looking for 70° days and getting 42° nights:  Rental

• Two words--being the only black guy in town:  Hard Vice

 

justin@bellviewmovies.com