General: Smell the May flowers (Part 3 of 3)

When I woke up on Sunday May 16, I had to take a minute and recall how exactly I got to be where I was, what I was doing there, and why my eyes felt like they were about to come out of their sockets.

Then I realized that I was on the 33rd floor of the Tremont Hotel just hours after the first day of C-Webb's bachelor party.

I also realized that I had turned 25 years young hours before I went to bed. The messages on my phone from my mom reminded me just in case she thought I forgot.

The plan that day was to go fishing on the Chesapeake Bay at 1:30 p.m. The original plan was for 7 a.m., thank God P.K. changed it because that charter boat would have had zippy clientele at that insane hour.

We check out and jump in our buggies. It's about an hour ride from downtown Baltimore to Chesapeake Beach, MD, just south of Annapolis. The few, the proud, and the certifiable decided that fishing would be the cure for our brutal hangovers, sleep deprivation and nausea.

The rest went home to their, girlfriends, wives, fiances and more importantly, their own beds.

Nonetheless, I wouldn't have missed this for the world. It was 70 degrees, sunny and not an ounce of humidity in the air, and those who have been to Maryland and Washington, D.C. in the summer know that the humidity can just about suck the life out of anything, including 12 very dehydrated individuals.

After waiting an extra half hour for the rest of our friends to crawl on the boat we launch from the dock and are off to catch some rock fish.

Once the boat gets to full speed all is right with the world. Everything that hurt in my body was rapidly disappearing. C-Webb's father joined us and in tow of course were his two coolers full of beer, not light beer which I could have used, full flavored German Pilsners and dark stouts.

Great, just what I needed.

He popped them open and gave the whole party a toast.

We had arrived at our destination and the captain and his mate were busy putting all the lines out. We were trolling which meant that there would be a lot of time sitting and waiting.

We didn't have to wait long for our first bite. The first fight went to the fishing rookie Z, C-Webb's cousin by marriage.

Decked out in a black designer shirt, Gucci sunglasses and Italian sandals, Z took the pole and fought with the beast. The boat rocked as he reeled in a good size rockfish, about 32 inches, 12 pounds.

Not a bad start to the day.

The next fight went to C-Webb.

Let the trash talking begin.

He took the rod and reeled the rock fish in, all while we were yelling in his ear reminding him that he was soft and couldn't do anything right.

Aren't friends great?

Now it was my turn. I was subjected to the same taunts and jeering that C-Webb received. But once you get that rod in your hands you tune everything out.

"Keep the tip up, pull up then reel down, not too much slack or you'll lose it," I kept repeating this to myself over and over.

The fight lasted less than five minutes, it felt like an hour. My arms were rendered useless, my shoulders were burning, the spot on my hip where I anchored the rod felt like as it had been shot, the sweat coming from my brow seeped into my shirt. All worth the pain. Dammit if that fish wasn't the coolest thing I had seen in long time.

I was in the lead for biggest fish of the day, 36 inches, 18 pounds.

I lit a smoke and cracked open a well deserved beer and thought to myself, "Yeah, I could get used to this every day."

If I had known that my fish would be the last one caught I would have taken a nap in the cabin. After hours of trolling our time was up and we returned to shore. The fish were gutted and filleted and we all said our good-byes and promised to see everyone again at the wedding.

The bachelor party was now over, my birthday was coming to an end, I was exhausted and the only thing on my mind was my bed. I grab my filleted rock fish and headed home. Despite my fatigue I manage to crack a smile, not just at the events of the past two days, but also for the anticipation for what lay ahead.

The next week I was back at Laurel Racetrack to collect my winnings from the Preakness. I hang around for a couple of hours testing my handicapping prowess.

What did I care, I was playing with house money.

I manage to break even and leave before I was tempted to place some sort of ludicrous bet.

There was an open weekend before C-Webb's wedding so my roommate, his girlfriend and I decide to attend a house party that was being thrown by one of our buddies.

On the agenda for me that night was the same as for any night: Imbibe adult beverages, find the future mother of my children (preferably someone that resembles Brooke Burke, but anyone without a hunchback will do) and compete in some sort of childish, immature game where the object is to drink as much booze as possible.

I manage to complete two of these tasks, I'll let you guess which ones.

The sportsman in me couldn't let me leave without engaging in some sort of athletic endeavor. I challenge anyone who thinks that flipping a cup and getting it to land upside down isn't a sport. Especially after a few rounds.

I quench my thirst for mindless competition, and inappropriate innuendo for the night and go get a cheeseburger. The week had finally come for the wedding that we all had been waiting for.

The wedding weekend started where the month began for the wedding rehearsal and dinner, back in Annapolis. I won't bore you with the details of the wedding, like how many of us were in the bridal party or what the decorations looked like or who and what relation the bridesmaid I walked down the aisle with had with the bride and groom. (If anyone knows please fill me in.)

Nothing too exciting happened on that Friday night, speeches were given, toasts were made and crab cakes were inhaled by everyone at the dinner. A few cocktails afterwards for some, more than a few for others, and dancing, loud music and shots for the very few.

The wedding was at 11am the next morning, I guess by now you know what kind of mental and physical state I am in, if you don't, go back and read parts one and two, I'll wait till you catch up.

Beautiful wedding, beautiful bride, cute flower girls, lots of pictures, tears from the women, a shooting pain in my eye, all the requisites of a traditional wedding.

C-Webb did it, he actually did it. My second baseman from our baseball days, my "power" forward from our hoops days was now my married friend.

It took every ounce of maturity not to crack jokes during the whole wedding, all that was running through my head was the short two minute scene from "Old School" where Frank (Will Ferrell) is getting married and Bernard (Vince Vaughn) is just breaking his stepchildren. (watch that movie again and you'll get that last line)

The reception wasn't for another six hours. I took this much needed break to get out of the monkey suit I was wearing and catch a few innings of the Red Sox-Mariners game back at my place.

Ahhh baseball on a Saturday afternoon, it's a miracle I didn't fall asleep and miss the entire reception.

We boarded yet another boat for the reception, this time off the banks of the Potomac River in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia.

The cocktail hour lasted for about two, afterwards we all sat down for dinner. Before the festivities would begin it was time for P.K's best man speech.

One of the highlights of the evening. I wish I had the transcript to share with everyone. He covered everything from how lucky his brother was, questioning the bride's decision, some cracks about his family and he even worked in how he loved gambling and pornography without offending anyone. A stroke of genius.

As if the drinks were not flowing already, after dinner the floodgates opened. C-Webb asked me to do a song list so people could request what they wanted to hear. I took this opportunity to place every cheesy 80's song that everyone loves but are afraid to admit it. For example, the musical stylings of one Steve Perry and Journey with "Don't Stop Believin'" Or how about Sister Christian with the moving song "Sister Christian."

Oh yeah, the grooms friends all took over the dance floor, forming circles and singing the "Gambler" at the top of our lungs. Thankfully "The Electric Slide" wasn't played, I think that may be one of the signs of the apocalypse though.

When "Had the time of my life" came on, the song from Dirty Dancing, my friend decided that she was Jennifer Grey and I was Patrick Swayze and she was going to leap into my arms and do the whole flying thing at the end of the movie.

Luckily I remembered that we were on a boat and that there was only about nine feet of head clearance.

I tried to stop her but it was too late, she looked like Carl Lewis in mid-air of a long jump, I caught her but instead of lifting her up which would have put her head into the ceiling tiles, I spun her around revealing, at the very least, to the whole boat what color her unmentionables were.

Of course we didn't find out about this until the day after when the stories came out about some girl getting twirled around like an exotic dancer.

The bride and groom left the boat around 11:30pm, they left their friends and family behind on the boat to start their new lives together.

It had all come full circle in just one month. Birthdays, weddings, sporting achievements, gaming wins and losses, friends, family, teammates, everything that we all could hope to experience sometime or another in our lives.

As many miles as I had placed on my car driving to Annapolis, Baltimore, Aberdeen, Chesapeake Beach, Laurel, Arlington, Alexandria it will never compare to how far I would go for those I care about.

The month of May did bring the flowers the old proverb envisioned, but instead of roses and lilies I got a smelly fish, three year old thoroughbreds, immaculate fairways, and endless '80s songs.

Life never smelled sweeter.