Who's the Man? Do you really have to ask?

My brother spent a glorious weekend here, his first since my undergrad days, after which he was sick for days and vowed never to return until I got a PhD. Must be the water. It's always the water that drives them away. Fortunately, I didn't tell him about my Comps mishap, so he arrived Saturday afternoon, right when I was in the middle of Metropolis, the japanimation flick from last year (review coming soon).

His first words upon entering my apartment were "Hey, this place isn't so bad. It doesn't stink like cat shit like your old place."

His next words were, "Where's your bathroom?"

His following words were, "You want to be my best man? I'll pay you fifty bucks."

His final words were, "You going to show me where the bathroom is, or what?"

Okay, okay, I was kidding about the fifty bucks part. And the other comments. Far be it for me to caricature my brother behind his back.

But I am going to be his best man, can you dig it? That's got to be a line on my resume--I formerly thought I wouldn't even make the cut to the wedding party. Must be the haircut. It's always the haircut. Usually, I'm lucky if I get a job parking cars.

Of course, in the face of such a request, I had to be diplomatic. I professed an honest desire to share the joy and the honor of the moment, to be blessed and take part in a sacred and holy institution of whatever church the two of them belong to. But that was all crap, of course--what I'm really looking forward to is giving the Best Man Speech.

As I understand it, this is my opportunity to drag his life out on a slateboard for the world to see and give the bride, if not a last chance to back out (presumably they'll already be married by the time I give the speech), at least some hindsight. This is also my opportunity to make a world-class ass of myself. The last several Best Man speeches have been nothing short of ruinous, consisting from the drunken and banal ("Hey man, I never thought it would come to this...uh...well like, I'm still single, ladies, even if John isn't...") to the drunken ("Now who was getting married again?") to the simply banal ("This is a joyous and honorable moment, and I am blessed for taking part in a sacred and holy institution of whatever church we're in right now..." God, that sounds familiar).

I've heard Best Man speeches where the brother listed a set of grievances against the groom--I could maybe tell about the time Bryan ate all the lunchmeat in the refrigerator so he could gain muscle. But then I'd have to tell about the time he beat up three neighborhood bullies who were trying to steal my lunch money.

I've also heard Best Man speeches where the brother told about drunken parties together and made vague allusions to the bachelor party. I could tell about how I came out to Augustana and went drinking with him, but then I'd have to tell how I drank too much too fast, got sick, and went home while the rest of them played football.

Screw. I'll come up with something. But it's just occurred to me that I'll have to plan a bachelor party. I'm not sure I'm up to the challenge. I'm not even sure he's allowed to have a bachelor party, and even if he is, I bet some of his other friends would do a much better job of planning it than yours truly, whose answer to Douglas Hall's Love Quiz of 1995 question "What's the best thing a guy can do to improve his sex life?" was "Get a partner." I haven't matured much since 1995, actually. But I hide it well.