A Wedding Story.

A Wedding Story.


It’s starting to get cold out. Especially being in New York.

Why is it already so gloomy.. and foggy.. and cold? I wish I was back in San Francisco, but whatever… I’m here for my brother’s wedding so I guess I gotta get through it.

I groaned as I stretched and shivered as the blanket shifted off of my chest. The draft was cold. I sat up from my hotel bed and rubbed my eyes open.

“I’m the best man, huh?” I laughed as I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair.

I took a look up to see the time: 7:02 a.m.

My suitcase was shoved in a corner and my suit jacket was drooping from the chair.

“I guess I’ll unpack.”

I slipped out of the bed and hit the cold wooden floor before frantically looking for my slides. I stretched one more time and yawned for the third as I reached for my phone to play “Knife Talk” by Drake and 21 Savage.

“Today’s going to be a good day.”


Ok, I’m freaking out.

“Best man!! Open up!”

Ok, I’m freaking out even more.

When I said “Today’s going to be a good day” about…. Exactly an hour ago…. I was dead f#$@ing wrong.

Let me fill you in before I let this person who’s banging on my door inside:

  • Socks ✅
  • Underwear ✅
  • Best Man button up shirt ✅
  • Best Man suit jacket ✅
  • Best Man tie ✅
  • Best Man handkerchief ✅
  • Best Man shoes ✅
  • Best Man pants ❌❌❌❌

Instead of my custom burgundy fitted Best Man pants, I packed my roommate’s few-sizes-bigger navy American Eagle straight legged pants. Nice going, me.

My brother’s soon-to-be wife is going to kill me.

The loud banging and constant reminders that I’m the best man resumed. I rushed over to the door, removed the lock and turned the knob, praying it would be anyone other than–

“Monica!” I shouted as she cheered and hugged me… I wish you could see the look on my face right now.

“W-What,” I threw my roommate’s rugged pants behind me. “-What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just checking in!” she peeked over my shoulder as if she was looking for something to be wrong. “I wanted to make sure you’re good with everything and have everything for-” she nudged me “-my special day!”

I chuckled and cleared my throat, “O-Of course. Everything’s good here.”

“Got your Best Man shoes?”


“Your Best Man tie?”


“Your Best Man handkerchief?”

“Yes,” I nudged her on a delay. “Monica, don’t worry. Everything is good!”

“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “I trust you… I mean it’s not like you’d forget something as obvious as pants, right?” she laughed, and I laughed along because – as you and I both know – I did forget something that obvious.

I slammed the door shut and rushed for my phone. Sorry, Drake, gotta pause your music.

With a few taps, now what I heard was the dial tone, and after two rings-

“Yoooo, best man!” my brother slurred. He’s probably two shots and a half a beer in.

“Derrick, I need to find a dry cleaner… a tailor… something!” I pleaded.

“Woahhhh,” he said slowly. “Relax, brother man. I know just the place.”


Ok, I’ve wasted two whole hours trying to find this dry cleaner. Derrick said it’s the only one he ever goes to and they do amazing alterations. His words, not mine – but for the sake of both of us – God, I hope he’s right.

The good: the non-Best-Man-pants are just a bit loose on me. Like if I dance or move around too much – which will definitely be the case – it’ll slip and slide.

The bad: alterations can take days or sometimes even weeks.

Me? I have nine hours.

The streets were crowded for a fall, Saturday morning. I looked down at my GPS every few seconds, but I just couldn’t find the place. I hate Apple Maps so much.

But time was ticking and I need to get this done.

“Of course this happens to me,” I huffed and shook my head while running my hands through my hair. I was frustrated – standing in the middle of the sidewalk as dozens of people just passed by me.

I was about to give up – and deal with the loose pants – and then I saw it.

I saw the sign: DROP YOUR PANTS HERE!

And man, I didn’t even hesitate.

“Ok, we didn’t literally mean to drop your pants here,” a woman with a burgundy beanie and septum piercing laughed – I assume she works here. I hope she can save me.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m in a hurry,” I attempted to put my hands in my pockets, but forgot I was now in my plaid boxers. Nice.

“How much of a hurry?”

“Like, I’m-the-best-man-at-my-brother’s-wedding-and-brought-the wrong-pair-of-pants-so-now-I-need-an-alteration hurry.”

“Oh, shit.”



Well… I can’t believe I made it. More importantly, I can’t believe my pants made it.

Dear woman with the burgundy beanie and septum piercing: I don’t know how you did it, but God BLESS your soul.

Ok, I can stop thinking about that now.

I’m walking down the aisle. The room is so bright. Everyone is staring at me and half of them have their cameras out. I’m smiling and can hear the cheers of my name.

I see my parents and my brother already at the altar with such sincere looks on their faces. Today really is a good day.

The ceremony began and I stood just inches away from my brother.

But then I start to feel something tugging at my ankle. I looked down and saw two things I never even thought I didn’t want to see: a loose thread and it being stuck to the dog.

To clarify: the dog was my soon-to-be sister in law’s bright idea of having as their ring bearer. To also clarify: I knew getting the alteration done so fast was too good to be true.

Without even realizing it, it was time to give the rings.

My cousin – who owns the dog – was trying to get him riled up to bring the rings over and – of course – it got him too riled up and he zoomed right past the altar – taking my pants with him… literally.

I felt my leg get yanked on as the thread unraveled and unraveled and unraveled until they looked like a pair of cheap cargo shorts. Think: that scene in the “Lizzie McGuire” movie where a dog bit Lizzie’s dress and she kept spinning and spinning as her dress got shorter and shorter.

Yup, that was me, just 1000x more embarrassing.

Moral of the story is: always bring the right pair of pants.

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