Wedding Day Blues

Many years ago I was in a wedding in New York. My wife and I stayed with her uncle and aunt in Kings Point, Long Island and drove in to the wedding in Queens. I have little remembrance of the ceremony and the reception, and the couple has long since divorced, but the ending was spectacular for me.

My tux was rented from a dealer in Baltimore, and was due back on Monday. I had plans to stay in New York for a day or two, and was to bring the tux home, probably a bit late.

The groom’s sister was going home the next day and offered, as we were leaving, to take back the tux. I was happy to be free of such details; however, she needed the tux then and there, as we were miles away from where she was staying.

Being that the wedding had ended, and that I had been drinking at the reception, it seemed like a great idea to get out of the tux and give it to her right there on a New York street.

I went to my vehicle, undressed, and my wife brought her the tux. We got into the car and drove off, up the Long Island Expressway, hoping I had no reason to get out of the car as all I was wearing was a t-shirt, underwear and socks, as I had rented shoes as well.

This could have been the end of the story but there was a sub-plot. When we arrived back at the house, we were hoping that no one was around, as I wanted to make it into the house without detection. Unknowingly, my wife’s cousin was in her room having sex with her boyfriend, for the first time (they have long since been married), and wanted no detection.

We all were there trying to hide from each other.