It’s Supposed to Burn: An Oklahoma City Tale.

We rolled into the splendor that is Oklahoma City at about noon whereupon we greeted our friend from Bozeman, Nathan Kosted (the Groom’s Best Man) at the airport. Somehow we managed to shove another 240 lbs plus luggage into the Prizm and we headed to his grandmother’s house. Will had already canceled our reservations at the HOJO and convinced Kosted to let us post up with him at Gramers’ casa; there is no shame in his soul, only fiscal responsibility. Not to suggest that I objected of course...

Gramma Kosted was amazing. She’s tough as nails, having raised four boys, and was an incredible host. We were greeted with hugs, stew made from scratch and pecan pie that was still warm. We chatted with her for a while, hearing how her late husband had invented the first shopping cart and got ready for Jake’s bachelor party.

We pregamed with endless conversation as to why in God’s name the bride and groom (who are from two beautiful parts of the country: Southern California and Bozeman, MT respectively) would choose Dante’s 3rd circle to be the sight of their nuptials. No clear consensus was reached, but the possibility of a dart and a map of the USA being used to determine the location was not ruled out.

We picked Nate up some shoes at Ross (where he also purchased some Daisy Fuentes brand sunglasses for $5.00) and headed over to Jake’s house in Moore, the hometown of America’s voice: Toby Keith. He and his now-wife Meagan greeted us and we shared with them our congratulations. We sipped a few beers, recollected the good old days and waited for the remaining members of the bachelor party to arrive. We saw his folks and brothers, which was a good time and finally headed out for the festivities.

We drove to Bricktown in downtown OKC and headed to a local brewery for dinner and some beers. This area is another product of federal pork $ and even includes a purposeless canal. All cynicism aside it is a nice area and a great spot to go out in OKC. We ate, we drank, we were merry and then hopped over to another bar for some live music. It was relatively quiet, but a good time. We met “cowboys” from NYC who bought me a drink for predicting their allegiance to the Mets and some ladies from Arkansas. Will convinced them to head to another part of town with us for some more bar hopping and we headed out. I rode with some guy we met there who was in town on business and spent the entire ride over telling me how he looked forward to cheating on his wife that evening; I’m not sure if he succeeded in that goal or not.

This is the part of the story where a dramatic shift occurs. By dramatic, I mean awful. And by awful, I mean awful for me. Legal Note: The names and places in this lurid account have not been changed, as there are no innocents to protect.

As we arrived at our destination the groom and I chatted on the way across the parking lot. After a few paces, he decided to relieve himself in said parking lot as men who’ve tipped a few are wont to do. I, never one to make another feel ill at ease, joined in the activity and our conversation continued. Good times right? The groom finished up, as did I shortly thereafter. About three steps later a black and white vehicle rode up on me driving about 96 mph from nowhere. A gentleman stepped out of the vehicle, yelling: “what the f*&% were you doing.” I inquired “what, back there?” He did not appreciate this response, which he deemed to be clear obstruction of justice. I was asked to place my arms behind my back and was promptly outfitted with a pair of rather tight bracelets. The groom calmly explained to the officer that this was a bachelor party, I was in from out of town and was surly very sorry. The officer politely responded: “Shut up or I’m gonna arrest you too.” The groom graciously reiterated his thoughts on the matter and was once again threatened with joining me for a free ride back to downtown. I told him it was a lost cause and to get out of there and was promptly seated into the backseat of my complementary ride that would take me downtown: first class all the way.

At this point Will attempted to query my chauffeur as to where he could expect to greet his fellow traveler in the morning. His question was answered in similar fashion: “Get out of here or you’re getting arrested!” Apparently my chauffeur was merely being protective of his charge and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that this was all very unnecessary. We had some light conversation in the car before departure: “why did you lie to me,” … “sir, I didn’t lie to you,” … “this would all be different if you didn’t lie,” … “did you hear my previous statement?” … etc, and eventually we were off.

As we departed, I was issued an ultimatum of sorts: jail or detox. I felt the latter had a nicer ring to it and instructed the driver take me there and to post haste. He refused a tip and we arrived at my complementary apartment downtown in a few short minutes. It was during this ride that I observed the screensaver on his in-vehicle computer. It was simple in its honesty and read: “It’s supposed to burn.” As the words spiralled around, protecting his screen, the humor was lost on me. My wrists still hurt from these "burn-providers"… but I digress.

The concierge met us at the entrance of the gated community and I was admitted after passing the breath-recognition software test that protects against break-ins. I sent my driver on his way, was provided with some freshly washed linens and entered my 30-bed condo complete with two bathrooms. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how the other half lives.

I strolled past some other members of Oklahoma City’s upper-echelon en route to my cot (I mean bed). To the left? A guy drooling with his head on the cot’s metal frame. To the right? A one-legged gentleman struggling to mount the toilet seat. Truly, I was a man amongst kings.

Note: the particularly splendid part of this ordeal was not just that no one knew where I was, or even that I had lost my list of phone numbers earlier that evening. No, no. The cake goes to the fact that my blood-alcohol content was at the time of arrival a .07, which dear readers is beneath the legal limit to drive in the state of Oklahoma. I know! I didn’t even need my driver! What a waste…

I got some much needed rest in a corner suite and was awoken numerous times to the sound of grunts, pacing and “bathroom-related” hubbub. Good times. At about 5 am I went for a drink and met a fellow man-about-town. This gentleman had been tossed in about an hour after my arrival for trying to break up a fight. Needless to say we talked extensively about our respect of Oklahoma City's finest. Our concierge, who was tidying up our bathrooms (that’s what I pay her for) joined in and we were one big happy family. Joe, my commiseratti if you will, and I talked for a while and then I decided to touch up on a little more sleep. The concierge was insistent that I was not to leave until 11 am (she clearly knew I needed my rest). I thanked her for her well-reasoned advice and then followed it.

The hours came and went and the door was opened for me when my ride arrived. Again, gratuity was refused and I bid the villa adieu. Will, who had no trouble finding me having spent the remainder of the previous evening amongst law students, provided me with a change of clothes and we headed straight to the water park… I think I can safely say I am the only person in the city’s history who went directly from detox to a water park.

We spent 6 hours at the park and had an absolute blast. It was about 100 degrees out so nothing could have been better. I even managed to get a healthy Irish-tan (aka severe sunburn) while there. We left the park, went back to Grandma Kosted’s and rendezvoused with Nathan after he returned from the rehersal dinner.

After a few hours and about 16 layers of Aloe Vera the three of us headed back down to Bricktown where Jake was staying at a friend’s condo. We enjoyed a few beers and my exploits were explained in detail. We returned back to Gramma’s and took in some rest.

The day of the wedding began with the acquisition of our gift to the couple. Many possibilities were considered, but we ultimately settled on $187 in 1's shoved into the pages of a new copy of The Grapes of Wrath. The gift was complete with newspaper wrapping and bows made of used rags and a red tourniquet. I believe our classiness was mentioned earlier, but here it was materialized.

After a few trips around town for odds and ends, we all dressed up into our finery and got ready to head out to Jake’s condo. Will even put into effect a new hairstyle that was dubbed “The Yaley.” (A full length blog on the nature of Will’s hair will be forthcoming, but suffice it to say that this was the 4th of his hairstyles to have been named). The Yaley was also later renamed “The New York Times” and “The Skull and Bones.” They’re all winners.

We arrived at the condo, hung out with Jake and the rest of the wedding party for a bit and then headed to Coles Gardens where the ceremony and reception were held. Upon realizing that the ceremony was a few hours away, Will and I went to a watering hole across the street and killed some time.

The ceremony was lovely. Meagan looked fantastic and it was a beautiful, short and to the point sort of service. Everyone agreed that it was a knockout. The reception was held in a neighboring building and was a fantastic time. Dancing, good food, wine and beer: again, what more could one hope for. The bride and groom seemed very happy and the party lasted past midnight. Nathan’s best man speech funny and heartfelt and everyone enjoyed themselves.

After it ended, we headed down to Norman for some more dancing with a few ladies and then headed back to gramma’s. En route Will and Nathan had an argument over politics/women/pointless topic de jure that culminated in Will being thrown out of the car on the interstate. Yes. Interstate. I spent the next hour or so acting as Teddy Roosevelt between Nathan’s Russia and Will’s Japan and finally achieved a treaty. Any readers on the Nobel Committee please take note. We picked Will up, returned home and got to sleep around 4am. I had the luxury of giving both a ride to the airport at 6 am. Good times.

I returned, caught some more sleep and then enjoyed breakfast with Gramma Kosted. I hit the road for Denver around noon and drove all day on highways and back roads, which was nice for a change. The same cannot be said however, for the Oklahoma countryside. I arrived in Denver around 9 pm, conversed with my hosts Hal Burns and Nancy Stanton (family friends) and gratefully went to sleep on my soft mattress. Today has been spent scribing these lyrics for you dear reader, so think fondly of me. More to come...

Todd & Will