Up Nort' Part 2

Ahh, the unique sub-culture of near-Canadian living... I always feel like such an outsider when we're Up North, yet I always have such fun! And the stories I come home with!

We arrived at a beautifully decorated reception hall, themed with snowflakes and glowing with candles. Seats were assigned, and I was lucky to be placed across from some of the most amusing people in the place. Probably in the county.

The bride's mother is a total hippie and very proud of it, man. Seated across from her and her boyfriend, I learned their code phrases for getting stoned in about 1 minute or less (and I don't mean getting stoned as in the biblical references - they see it as a very good thing). Pot is a household friend to them. I couldn't help but laugh at their attempts at subtlety. Duuude. Friendly as they were, I really enjoyed chatting with them.

Right after the meal, the bridal party departed on a booze bus. For the next several hours, they hopped bars and celebrated in style. All except for my DH. He took the opportunity to run back to our room for a 2.5-hour nap. In the meantime, all the old folks (and I) hung out at the reception hall, waiting for the dance to begin. While waiting, I had a truly lovely visit with one of my DH's uncles. Eventually the DJ showed up and the party took off.

Much of the talk at the reception revolved around Hot Carls, Filthy Sanchezes, Dirty Muskies, Tea Bags, etc. Nothing like a bunch of perverts to bring a party to life. Especially when the parents of the bride are included in the chortling.

At some point, one of the local drunk girls showed up and started badmouthing the beautiful bride, whose dad quickly showed her to the door.

Another highlight was when the garter was auctioned off, and the bride's poor grandpa had the winning ticket. Of course when he went up to collect the garter, the chanting began, "Teeth. Teeth. Teeth." You guessed it, the poor chap was bullied into getting onto the floor and removing his granddaughter's garter from her upper thigh. I'm sure he'll never be the same.

An image that will remain forever ingrained in my memory is that of a booty. That's right. A naked butt. On the dance floor. This wasn't just an average moon. Oh no. One of the groomsmen is known for his love of mooning, but he took it to a new level during the dance. After making sure he had an ample audience, he pulled his pants down and then rubbed his backside up against a rather large gal on the dance floor. They were essentially back-grinding for at least a minute before she turned and realized he was bare.

Almost as many drinks were spilled on the floor as were consumed, but no one seemed to mind. Everyone in the place danced a ton. Seriously - a ton. Even my DH. We all had a bunch of fun, and no one brought on any significant drama, so I'd call it a success. My lungs are still blackened from the smoke, but the rest of me feels great from all the dancing and laughing.

As always, I look forward to our next trip Up Nort'. Although I think it will be awhile.