GT4's Wedding - Pt 2

Between the end of the tea ceremonies and the dinner, we had a good 4 hours to ourselves to rest up before we had to report to the hotel ballroom at about 6.30pm. Reznor wanted to head back to sleep and I knew it was a bad idea because when he sleeps, it will take a marching band just to get him up.

He assured me that it would not happen and requested that I gave me a wakeup call at 5.30pm. I knew he was never going to wake up and he tried to convince me otherwise. Four hours and 6 missed calls later, I prove once more that while I might not always be right, I am never wrong.

By the time I got there, two of the brothers were discussing about the dinner itinerary with Daniel Ong, whom GT4 got as the emcee for the night. I was immediately introduced as the ‘brother who is doing the drinking’. My parents must be beeming with pride if they knew.

Then the reception started, and wine was being served, so I found myself obligated to begin drinking because time always seem to pass faster with alcohol. By the time Jerm and Reznor got there, I was already on my fourth glass of red wine, and they suggested that I stopped till dinner actually started. I knew I was getting high because people were actually beginning to look better.

I also wrote my wedding wishes for the couple,

“Best wishes to GT4 and Ruth. 2 years down the line when she starts nagging, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.”

Sometimes I wonder why people would want to invite me to a wedding.

Dinner was a cordial affair with a couple of familiar faces who I’ve not met since I graduated from secondary school. One of them, as I whispered to Reznor, was a time bomb whose igniting wick was pretty much tagged to alcohol.

For one, he was the loudest guest that night, singularly starting a wedding toast that sounded like it paralleled the entire group of us that was on stage. And secondly, his table was already curiously laced with a line of wild concoctions that stank of potency, way before the groom and bride got up to do their rounds on the tables.

When we finally got to his table, he quickly handed one of the glasses to GT4, who quickly rejected it, opting to stay with beer for the night. He looked at me and I gestured for the glass which was filled up halfway to be passed over to me.

Me: “What’s this?”
Him: “Cranberry.”

Me: "Why am I not thrilled to hear this."

I took a whiff and I knew there was wine in there along with a generous mix of Cordon Bleu. Save for the fact that gulping it was like swallowing fire, it actually tasted decent. Then he handed me another glass.

Him: “That was for the groom. This is for you.”

And finally I understood my value in the wedding. I was going to be the shield that would uphold the sobriety of the others. I knew I was meant for great things.

The after party was at the hotel bar right at the top, and the whole group of us packed it in over champagne and beer. The initial plan was to head down for Armin at Zouk because everyone was there, but the after party seemed almost just as enjoyable and we didn’t have to sardine ourselves just to get alcohol.

It was quite a night. GT4 was still thanking us for the help, the boys were still chugging beer and the champagne was starting to get to me. I know this for a fact because the need to dance was slowly getting to me and I was throwing up suggestions to continue the party at Zouk; at a place that was going to be so insanely packed that there might be a cover charge for your shadow. I have the dumbest ideas sometimes.

Most of them frowned at me when I suggested Zouk, then responded with nasty words like, ‘tired’, ‘crowded’ and other dirty four letter words like, ‘home’ and ‘can’t’. The only thing that was bugging me was turning up at Zouk in a suit, because if I saw me, I would be laughing at me. Then again, there was Reznor to be ridiculed along with me, and it could be like Halloween all over again.

So 3 of us left whilst the others went on with their champagne and took the party to the suite. I was tanked, looking great in a suit, had the keys to a room at the Shang in my pocket and going to party with Armin. Life does not get any better than this.

When we got there, most of the guys were at wine bar, and talks of it being super packed inside were abuzz. I knew coming in a suit also meant having to repeat myself incessantly over my choice of fashion. It tickled them silly to see me in one because this was like watching Verne Troyer do a slam dunk.

LB couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of me, Reznor went off and left me as the only clown in a suit that isn’t working there, and I was waiting forever to get my drinks. Suddenly, life is no longer good.

And when I said that everyone was at Zouk, I wasn’t kidding because from the MissMonths to the one night stands, either I was bumping into them or receiving ‘are you at Zouk?’ messages. Suddenly, the pool of eligibles became massive and my attention was no longer monopolized by the one holding my hand.

When I finally got in to join Muthu and the others, the mood to party had already left me. I was feeling tired, had a suit to hold on to, had no space to dance and infinitely overdressed. So while the crowd erupted in a pandemonium of discordant cheers and whistles as Armin teased, I made the decision to surrender a night of hard dancing and vodka chugging, for a bed at the Shang.

Not alone of cos.

The next morning, I woke up and found blood stains on the bed sheets and steaks that ran down the comforter and even the pillow case. It immediately reminded me of the stain story, and I was smart enough to figure out that its was blood and not shit this time. Why does this always happen to me?

I just hope that doesn't count towards the bill.

P.S: This is what tickled LB