So now, if you’re still with me, we are on the final leg of my journey. A weekend in San Francisco for the wedding of two incredible people: Justin Wells and Heather Charles.
And this wedding needs a backstory.
It’s funny. I’m pretty sure that I was the only person at the wedding who had been friends with both Justin and Heather not as a couple, but separately.
You see, Justin was a good buddy of mine at Dartmouth. We met through this crazy, preposterous theatre show that we did, that eventually played in New York, off-off-off-off-off Broadway. The show was not so good. But the time we had? Phenomenal. And Justin and I became great friends as a result.
Since leaving Dartmouth, we connect sporadically, but intensely. We always have a great time. You see, Justin is one of those incredible people who is a whole package: talented, smart, friendly, warm. An amazing guy. He’s someone that I feel truly proud to call friend. Plus, he’s about as stupid and ridiculous as I am when it comes to having a good time.
True story – at our first Dartmouth reunion, the 5-year one, we reconnected for the first time in, well, 5 years. And we had a BLAST. We hung out late, drinking, in frat basements. We cruised the campus. Continued to pretend that we could pick up girls… You get it. We had an outstanding time. And, despite the fact that, on the Sunday at the end of the weekend, I had to drive 8 hours back to Toronto, I said “Fuck it” and offered to drive Justin to his plane in Boston. 2 hours away from my destination. Yes. Effectively adding 4 hours to my drive. Stupid? Maybe. But, heck, this entire e-ssay might seem a testament to my stupidity. But I’d do it again if I had the choice. Because, although I don’t remember what we talked about. I do remember it was a great trip.
And last year, at our ten-year reunion, I did it again. Drove him to Boston at the end of the weekend. Now, this time, I wasn’t quite so stupid. You see, I’ve got a real job now. That pays actual money. So if I can fly for 2 hours instead of driving for 8, I tend to do that. So I actually flew from Toronto to Boston. So, when it came time to debate how Justin was going to get from Dartmouth to Boston, the decision was clear. And now, I’m probably going to continue to drive Justin down to Boston after every reunion. Because it’s become a tradition.
Only, from now on, the trip will include Heather.
Now, I’m not going to get into the story of how Heather and Justin connected and finally got together after 10 years of missing one another. When I tell that story, I’m going to write it as a movie. And it will be great. Because the story is just that. Great. For now, I’m going to leave it up to you all to hear the story from them. They do tell it very well.
The story that I’m going to tell is actually about our 10-year reunion last year. I arrived at Dartmouth on the Friday. I had settled into my room and was cruising the campus, when I ran into a friend who I had NOT expected to see at this reunion. Heather Charles. Heather was about 3 years behind me at Dartmouth, but, because she was so cool, she quickly infused herself as a part of my circle of crazy theatre friends. The group of us were virtually attached together at the hip. And Heather and I had a particular bond because I directed her in a show (the first show that I ever directed – Sartre’s No Exit.) And she was great.
So, I hadn’t seen her in about 4 years. There were big hugs and how-are-you-doings and omigod-it’s-so-good-to-see-yous. And then I asked her what the heck she was doing at our reunion. Her reunion was three years away. A big bright smile came across her face and she told me that she was here with her boyfriend. Cue Justin’s entrance. “Do you know Justin?”
Do I know Justin? Do I know Justin? Justin and I had been emailing back and forth for weeks with veritable death threats against one another –
You better be coming to reunion or I’m going to kick your ass. J
To which I had replied:
I’ll be there. You make sure that you get your pansy ass there. Or I will fly down to SF and personally kick your lame ass. M
PS. Lemme guess, you need a ride to Boston, again.
We had even talked on the phone. And he had mentioned a girlfriend. But he didn’t mention that HEATHER CHARLES was that girlfriend!!!
So. Do I know Justin? Do I know Justin?
Fucking-A, I know Justin.
In fact, I knew them both so well that, without even seeing them together I would have known that they’d be an incredible couple. And they are. Truly are an incredible couple.
And their wedding weekend was fittingly amazing. Which, if you will indulge me for a few more stories, I will tell you all about.