Post Wedding Virus

So two and a half years ago, right after D1 and Joey married, we had to flee Miami because of approaching Hurricane Irma. We left in the wee small hours to avoid as much traffic as we could, but still had 19 hours to Atlanta and our wonderful refuge, courtesy of Marc and Edna. But D1 noted, wryly, "nothing says honeymoon for my husband like 19 hours in a car with your mother in law."

Still -- it became a bonding experience for Joey and me. Waze had just come out, and Joey and I took turns piloting and navigating his Ford Explorer, filled with 4 people, 3 dogs, and a few plastic jugs of emergency gasoline. Things became dicier -- Wifey had been complaining of feeling poorly, and we just sort of blew her off. Turned out, when Marc went and bought a thermometer, she had 103 degree fever -- our Miami doc called in a prescription and she cleared up. Then Joey had a health scare, thankfully which turned out to be nothing more than an over zealous urgent care doc in suburban Atlanta, and our trip home took 23 hours -- with some thoughts about running out of fuel south of Gainesville.

We look back on it now and laugh at the contrast -- grand, joyous wedding followed by days of tensosity. A microcosm of life.

D2 and Jonathan were to leave on their "mini-moon" to the Yucatan, but woke up Tuesday both feeling sick. When I was holding court at the Betsy, saying goodbye, our Orlando friend Elizabeth said she had picked up a bug -- her throat hurt, and she was coming down with something. Sure enough -- she was a herald for several of us.

The newlyweds were able to cancer their trip, courtesy of a doctor's note from Harris, their new doc, and rested home instead. Sure enough, on Wednesday, at the office, I started sneezing, and coughing, and my nose ran like Niagara. I had caught it, too.

I used my new cold to advantage. I was awaiting some co- counsel checks from Stuart, who somehow finds ways to delay giving them to me, and I threatened to stay at the office, clearly sick, until he coughed up the three checks. It worked -- and I left with them -- cases that had settled late last year.

I stopped by D2 and Jonathan's, with some gifts and envelopes people had given me, and was treated to a shot of Dayquill from D2's stash. Fortunately, she was already feeling better, as I am, just two days after coming down with what I have labeled the Betsy virus...

And that's just life, as the Chairman sang. You're up and you're down.

As I was napping, D2 called with some more news. I decided to host a happy hour the night before the ceremony. At first, it was just for guests staying at the hotel, but it grew. We agreed on a $3500 minimum bar tab. Well -- plenty more showed up, and we drank heavily. Yesterday the hotel emailed and said we owed a bit more -- $8000! I've paid some hefty bar bills, but $11,500 is hip hop star level. D2 is auditing -- she thinks it may be a mistake.

But in truth, it's only money. When you party on South Beach -- you pay, and pay big. I've learned that throwing big weddings are like construction projects -- you have a budget, but they always exceed them. And if you end up loving the house, or in this case the big, fat, Venezuelan wedding -- hey -- what is the money for?

D2 and Jonathan wrote Wifey and me thanking us -- for the wedding, of course, but more for everything -- since they started dating. Wifey and I both cried -- and not just from the histamines from my cold.

So I plan to rest today, and probably just stay home and watch the Super Bowl Sunday. We have a tradition -- I watch the game, and Wifey goes upstairs and watches the Puppy Bowl -- an adorable alternative where absurdly cute rescue puppies run around on an astroturf field and either "score" or get "penalized" for peeing and pooping on the field.

D2 turns 28 on Monday. I think we may postpone her birthday dinner to the following Friday -- D1 and Joey and their little man owe a visit to Joey's parents for shabbos. If we're all feeling better, I might lure D2 and Jonathan to Glass and Vine for a Monday night birthday toast. We'll see...

But last night I exchanged emails with my brother Barry -- about how we are two of the richest men we know. Upper respiratory infections and absurd up charges at South Beach hotels come along. But when you have the love of your kids, and they have your unconditional love -- well, that's as good as it gets.