Towards the end of October my best friend is getting married. A long time ago, before college, before most of high-school, and certainly before I moved to New York, we made a pact that each would be the others best man. He has kept up his end of the deal, and I am expected to be the best man in his wedding. This is my first time being in a wedding that didn't have me being either the ring bearer, or in the bridal party. Yes, I was in fact my sister's bridesman....you try to make it sound manly and either way there are images of me in a dress conjured up. Anyway, I really thought that the best man planned a party with some booze and some sort of fun activity. I knew there was something about a toast in there, and something about holding onto rings, but honestly not much else.
Through some internet research I realized that there is in fact a lot more to do. The most important thing on this list was signing my name as witness to the marriage, or at least according to the research I found I was supposed to do this action. The point is, I have graduated into adult territory, and this small and relatively insignifigant task is what drives that point home. I am no longer simply signing for a pizza that I ordered from Two Boots, but I am completely and utterly witnessing my best friend cross a major threshold. It is completely screwing with sense of perception.
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