So, last Friday was the wedding.
What I forgot to mention in the last post is when we got to the hotel in Pismo, it was another king size bed to share. This one I can't complain too much, as we made our reservations way late, and Pismo Beach is a touristy town, after all.
Oh, and being on the road for six hours, you will get a sunburn if you hang your arm out the window. So, after evening out, I arrived at the show with my right arm all red and my left arm all tan. Thank God I wore a suit. I made sure to tell Steve I was driving to LA on Saturday.
The wedding was cool. It was easily the most scenic wedding I've ever been too. It was an outside wedding, right on the cliffs, and I gotta admit, that would be a stellar place to get married. Mike (the groom) and his wife picked a perfect spot.
The reception was awesome. Two words. Open. Bar. Okay, so the liquor was a cash bar (which I COMPLETELY understand. Fuck paying for food AND mixed drinks for a buncha freeloaders), but the beer they had, Firestone, was awesome. I first tried Firestone a year or two ago and Denver, and found it quite yummy. I haven't been able to find it on the East Coast, so having unlimited access to it was a pleasent surprise. One in which I took advantage of. A lot.
After many beers, I got pulled out to the dance floor, where I proceeded to get my groove on. I do like to cut a rug now and then, but I'm really particular about the music that has to be playing when I'm dancing. Unless I'm drunk. I was pretty lit.
Too soon, the reception was getting shut down, and Steve and I headed to our co-workers hotel for a couple more drinks. Steve didn't want to go, but they had already bought beer for us, and I told him two more (which I kept my word on). I figured two more would put me right at that edge where I would immediately fall asleep once I hit the bed, and with Steve's loud ass snores, I'd need it.
After the beers, we headed back to the room, where my plan worked perfectly. I slept like a baby.
The next day, we checked out at about 9:30ish, hit the beach, then hit the road. The 101. To LA. Oh. Yeah.