To that end, I kept myself lathered in sunscreen at all times.  I spent my days on the beach, reading by myself, listening to my iPod, thinking dirty thoughts and recovering or feeding hangovers.  All the time I had 40 proof sunscreen caked on me.  I made it through the wedding burn-free. 

To that end, I kept myself lathered in sunscreen at all times.  I spent my days on the beach, reading by myself, listening to my iPod, thinking dirty thoughts and recovering or feeding hangovers.  All the time I had 40 proof sunscreen caked on me.  I made it through the wedding burn-free. 

But after a few days, it bothered me that everyone had a nice healthy coloring and I was only slightly less pale than normal.  Determined, I bought 15 proof sunscreen and headed to the beach on a particularly sunny day.  I lathered myself up as usual, but this was 15 proof, so I hoped that would help me get a little color (I can’t express how bad last year’s sunburned scarred me). 

I sat on the beach reading, but got tired.  I wasn’t wearing my sunglasses because, though sunny, I was ok without them.  I put down my book, turned up my iPod, and spent the next hour and half falling in and out of sleep.  It was lovely. 

When I woke up, I saw that my skin was irritated, but only mildly so.  I could expect some color the next day after I woke up (it always takes some time to settle for me).  We went out and partied that night and got drunk as usual. 

The next day I woke up and rubbed my eyes and they hurt.  By that time, the maid of honor, Nicole was staying in the room with me (separate beds, perverts – take it easy).  After rubbing my eyes, I turned to her and said, “Man Nicole, my eyes really hurt.” 

Her response: “Oh my god, Jason – go look in the mirror.”

I burned the fuck out of my eyes. 

This picture doesn’t do it justice, but my eyes were badly burned.  I had put sunscreen on, but didn’t think of putting it on the skin under my eyebrow and on my eyelids (who does that?).  When I woke up, it looked like I had two black eyes – they were puffed out, painful, and purple.  Mother fucker. 

Soon, Nicole was on the phone calling everyone and they were coming to look, taking pictures, laughing, having a good old time.  Some “friends” they are.    

The best part is that the rest of my body had no color, except for my arms.  Though I was lying directly in the path of the sun, my right arm was beat red while my left was pale white.  In summary: burned eyes, one sunburned arm, very little color everywhere else, lots of laughs at my expense.    

My Best Man grade: solid B
The wedding itself was wonderful.  The ceremony was held on a gazebo facing the Caribbean just before the sun set.  The reception was held in a (thankfully) air-conditioned tent on the beach.  Since the whole thing was low key, it worked out great.  Meaning, on the day of the wedding, everyone woke up, went to the pool/beach, and started drinking.  Then they went home, changed, and we had the wedding after that.  It only last ten minutes, then after that, people went right on drinking.  At the beginning of the reception, I left the tent to take a piss.  When I came back, every single person was dancing.  Incredible. 

But back to me – my best man speech, which was arguably the most anticipated in the Western Hemisphere in 2006, went just ok.  I’d give it a B.  My first joke bombed, but at least it was the only joke that did so and it was the only one in the speech that wasn’t original.  It’s the old intro when you get up there and say, “Today, I’d like to talk about someone not only very special to me but to everyone in this room,” acting very serious and emotional.  Then you go on to list a bunch of great qualities (“Through the years, he has been a rock for his friends and family…His sense of humor has brightened the days of everyone he comes in contact with…” etc), closing with, while looking at the groom, “And might I add, he looks great today.”  Then there’s a pregnant pause and you say, “But enough about me – I should probably talk about this jerk too.” 

It usually works in any speech/roast situation, but my problem was my circumstance and my delivery.  In order for the joke to work, you need to hear that first line (“Today, I’d like to…”).  That sets up the whole joke.  Only a few people heard this though, because everyone hadn’t settled in when I started speaking.  So the set up was lost.

Secondly, I oversold it.  It’s appropriate to act a little emotional, but I went too far, pulling a fake stop to collect myself as if the moment was too overwhelming for me.  It was just bad acting and I think I lost a lot of the crowd on that one. 

But the golden rule is that if a joke doesn’t work, you just have to keep going.  So I did, and once I got into the meat of the speech, everything worked out.  Thank God, because I was pretty nervous.

Now I have to give the speech again in Philly, where the happy couple is having a reception for those who couldn’t make it.  I tried re-writing the speech, but haven’t been able to come up with anything, so I’ll have to give the same one (unless inspired at the last minute, like I was the first time).

…

I can’t believe I just dedicated five paragraphs to my best man speech.  Let’s just move on now.  And I’m sorry.       

I like getting high a lot
One of our big concerns prior to going was where we were going to get weed.  Um, not a problem.  Every time you turn around, someone is offering you pot, which is much cheaper and much better than the stuff in the States.  And of course, while high my friends and I had the obligatory “We could totally sneak some of this stuff back home,” conversing about this for about an hour before deciding the best course was the old standby: weed in ziplock bag inside bottle of shampoo.  Then we got less high and decided we didn’t like Jamaican weed as much as we like not being in prison.

But being high every day, most of the day, for a week in paradise was a pretty good gig.  I can’t wait until I retire next year and do this full time.  It’s going to be sweet.    

I do not like having the runs a lot
I know this may surprise many of you, but I pretty much pooped from the time I got off the plane until four days after I got back.  Good lord.  On the fifth day, I wasn’t sure if I had eaten something bad or if someone had shot me in the asshole.  Yes, it was as horrible as it sounds.  And no, I have no doubt that I have some sort of colon cancer.  My whole “stop wiping when there’s more red than brown” approach went out the window.  By the end of the week, all sorts of things were happening: I was seeing no browns, but lots of reds, greens – I think I saw some purple, but that could have been part of one of my balls.  Just a total mess, figuratively and literally.

[God, that was gross.  Even for me.]

I will never stop loving boobies
I wrote a while back about trying to kick my booby habit.  Well, forget that.  The title pretty much says it all, but there’s nothing like being surrounded by almost naked boobies for a week to get your right back on the boobie wagon.   They are truly, truly magnificent and every day I thank God, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, and George Washington for inventing them.    

A date, a female date, is required on all destination weddings
As I predicted, at the ends of evenings, when couple retired to experience love in the physical sense, I headed back to my room, high and drunk, to watch TV, eat, and shit. 

I knew that a date was required for a destination wedding, having gone to my cousin’s solo in the Bahamas in August 2004, so I don’t know why I couldn’t convince some woman I know or kinda know or met via Craigslist to join me in Jamaica for a few days.  Big mistake.

I have another one of these in the Virgin Islands in November.  If I don’t have a girlfriend by then to accompany me (ha!), we’re going to have to hold some sort of competition.  So ladies, get ready.  We’re talking five days/four nights in paradise with one of the worst human beings in the Northeast.  Here’s your essay topic: “What is your favorite color and are we going to have sex?”  Please, no more than 1000 words.  Good luck.   

[Many thanks to Site Guy Brendan for helping me get pics on here.  We've been doing this for over two years and we finally realized how easy it is to put pictures on here.  God we stink.]