Sometimes, life has been so strange that I don't quite know how to talk about it. Things never quite turn out the way you anticipate.*

I'm talking about Friday night, Vela's wedding, okay? (Even though it's clear that your interest in it is at zero or less.)

To begin with, I convinced Gidget (we were carpooling) that driving to LoDo** on a Friday evening was going to be a nightmare and that parking spots were going to be few and far between. She's never taken the Light Rail and was actually excited about the idea.

We met for a light salad dinner and I guided her to the park-and-ride, and bought her a ticket. We embarked when the correct train arrived and--it was packed! Why didn't anyone tell me there was a stupid Rockies game Friday night? We stood, swaying from the straps, for 45 minutes as the train wended its leisurely way to Union Station. And Gidget talked to people.

I don't know what the etiquette is in other cities? But in Denver, the light rail isn't so much a social mixer as a place where you're expected to focus on keeping your elbows out of other people's faces. She was having fun, though so whatever.

We slid into the wedding with a clear four minutes to spare and wound up, with no prior planning, in a row filled with other 'Nuts. (Vela invited TeamChaos.) So, you know, points right up front for being prominently in appearance but a requirement to be on your Very Best Behavior during the ceremony. (Not that I'm prone to throwing pies under other circumstances or anything.)

I hadn't thought much about the ceremony (other than to hope it would be short) and was momentarily surprised at the guest list. Not that I mind if people want to invite the god of their choice or anything, but I can't remember how many years it's been since I sat in a room full of people muttering prayer responses, interjecting at intervals in what was clearly a well-worn presentation, and amening all over the landscape. I'm afraid I behaved a little badly, but mostly in muttered asides to Gidget, so I didn't disrupt the festivities. Much.

I might have annoyed the men next to me who were involved in looking up every bible text mentioned on their Blackberries, but they were annoying me, so that's fair.

The highlight of the ceremony for me, with apologies to the bride and groom, came when the five year-old girl in front of me, entranced with the fairy lights and her own pretty frock, said to the little boy sitting beside her, "I'm going to marry you very soon." And she sealed her promise with a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Anyhow. Post-ceremony, Gidget headed for a nearby knot of 'Nuts and I trailed along after her. After the obligatory spousal introductions, most of them seemed happy to let me stand back and smile and nod vaguely while I pretended to follow their conversations. (I'm good at that. In my next life, I might be a Nodder.***)

I was perfectly happy with this arrangement. I'm sure Jason meant well, but he's a social retard (according to a slightly inebriated member of TeamChaos) and demonstrably has no fund of social small talk at all. What possessed him to single me out for conversation, I don't know.

He managed "good evening." Then he stood there, looking freaked.

I wasn't prepared for a 35 year-old man panicking like an eight year-old who has forgotten his party piece, so I just looked at him. (Okay, after a few seconds I took pity on him, but still. The man is CEO of the company and he doesn't have the presence of mind to pass an unscripted remark about the weather or something?)

It was hot in the foyer, so after a couple of uncomfortable minutes I made the Usual Excuse (ladies' room) to the group at large and wandered around the hotel, stood in the front door and watched the rain bucketing down (hoping, somewhat meanly, that all of those baseball fans who had been pigging up all of the seats on the light rail were getting wet), and generally tried to stay cool.

Back at the party I stuck close to Gidget, making polite noises at various strangers, watching in disbelief as at least four members of TeamChaos bypassed the open bar (beer and wine only) in favor of a bootleg bottle of vodka smuggled in by Willy Loman and a friend. (What is it about salesmen and alcoholism?) Jason was seen partaking of the bootleg bonanza as well. How inappropriate is that?

And then later (one assumes several drinks later), Jason appeared next to the table where I was nibbling sushi and bruschetta and stared at me owlishly for a few seconds before announcing that he didn't know anything about me.

I know that, okay? I've been with this company for over six months and pretty much no one there knows anything about me. I sit at my desk and do my job. It's a system I have and it works for me.

Anyhow, Jason pulled up a chair, sat down, and asked me if I was married. No. Did I have any children? No.

His conversational well ran dry at this point.

After a few seconds, I mentioned that I had plants.

"Plans?" He asked fuzzily.

"Plants," I enunciated carefully. (A joke is never funny if you have to repeat it.)

He didn't know what to do with this information.

Gidget took pity on him and announced that I was a Democrat. (She told me later that he's rabidly Republican, so, in context, her remark was less helpfulness and more rabble-rousing. But I like a good rabble as well as the next person.)

"Well, that's a problem," he said.

No, no, he added a few seconds later. Just kidding.

"I'm not really a Democrat," I assured him.

He looked relieved.

"I'm independent," I told him maliciously. "Because the Democratic party isn't liberal enough for me."

"They're not liberal enough?" He stared at me in disbelief. "So, you're a socialist?"

I sweartogod (who didn't attend the reception) that the man thinks today's Democratic Party is a half-step to the right of Socialism. So, you know, that pretty much told me everything I needed to know about him.

I bowed out of the conversation and he turned with some relief to Gidget. And gave her hell about a new program she'd instituted a couple of weeks ago that hadn't performed to spec. So inappropriate at a non-work function.

Shortly afterward, Gidget and I made the Usual Excuse and bailed on the party. The rain had stopped but it was a muggy walk back to the train station. I didn't care. I was free.

A 30-minute wait for a train heading to our stop. Boring, but Gidget and I rarely run out of things to chat about.

Eventually there was boarding. Riding. Stopping. Power outage at the next major junction. A "short delay."

Because I have manners, no matter what anyone says, I relinquished the empty row I'd been managing to fully occupy and let some nearby standees relax on it.

Gidget, whose purse really had needed a seat of its own, gave me space and thirty seconds later she was back to her old, bad habits. A few minutes later, everyone in the car knew she was riding the Light Rail for the first time, that we'd been attending our boss's wedding, that the CEO of our company was a nitwit but that I'd smacked him down***** during the party, etc., etc., etc. She's sort of like me that way. She doesn't need to drink. When she gets a little tired, she gets silly.

By this point in the evening, we were both silly. I like to think that we contributed largely to making the ensuing 45-minute delay a little more enjoyable for everyone within a 50-yard radius but I suspect we were just annoying some people. The conversation was wide-ranging (smoking, depression, dentists, weddings, lesbians, eyesight deteriorating with age, John Edwards, axe murderers on buses, cheesecake) while it lasted, but the husband of one of the women we were chatting with (okay, at) came over to announce that he could hear us all ten feet from where we were sitting and that made us too loud.

Eventually (11:42p.m.) I made it home. The next time someone invites me to spend an evening with a lot of people I already know I have nothing in common with? I'm going to catch a communicable disease first, so I can give it a miss.

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* Obviously I noticed this many years ago, but I also decided, many years ago, that it was better to go on anticipating anyhow. That way, you get 10-for-1 on your experiences--you get to have ten anticipated experiences for every one reality.

Sometimes I worry that I'm a little weird.

** Lower Downtown

*** Wodehouse

**** Willy is about to be transferred from the "bring in new locations" team to Vela's team where he'll be in charge of bringing in new national accounts. I tried to avoid him for the rest of the evening. I didn't really want to begin my professional acquaintance of him with the memory of him being drunk and stupid while I was sober and annoyed.)

***** Longer story than I feel like typing at the minute after this already a ridiculously long entry.