I've lost some bets in my life. I'm not a big gambling man, just some small wagers here and there. But that I lost this one...on my wedding day...is the stuff of family legend. It's a neverending source of hilarity that any one of the Halpert clan can grab onto and have themselves rolling and wiping their eyes within minutes. Even though, it really isn't THAT funny.
Pam says it is; John says it is; but it really isn't.
Here's how it happened.
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Pam and I had bought our first house, a little ranch. No terrace yet, but she had a nice patio off the kitchen and she prettied it up. We had both rented out our apartments, and we had moved all our stuff in our house just the week before. Yeah, we never actually moved in together before we were married. Pam one time said "I don't want to do that before we get married, like I did with Roy....". The thing is, she said that after we had been dating for three months. Did I ever give her a hard time about that. It never stopped making her blush, but the only reason I ever teased her about it in the first place was that I knew we were getting married too. The way you just know.
So anyway, I guess there was a lot of activity planned in that house the morning of our wedding. Something about the hair lady, the makeup lady, and also something about having "room for the dress to hang out". I am not making that up, though I have no idea to this day what it means. So in our new home, the night before our wedding turned into something of a Beesly female slumber party. I don't know, it must be the same pack mentality that makes women all go to the bathroom together. Which is a cliche, but also is very true.
So I stayed at my older brother John's house the night before. Which equaled an Uncle Jim slumber party to my nieces, Lexi and Kate, then almost five and three. They were in the wedding the next day, couldn't wait to show me their frothy looking dresses, which I had to make over for several minutes more than I actually had things to say about them. I do remember though that Lexi, so smart, told me that I was lucky that I didn't have to wear tights, they were so uncomfortable. I told her suits weren't exactly the most comfortable clothing in the world, but she laughed at me and said, "You're so silly, Uncle Jim. Everyone knows pants and shirts are way better than tights." I seriously considered bringing up the tie issue, but since she is my niece and was four years old, she got to win every time.
I also remember this. Before the girls went to bed, we played several rounds of "Uncle Jim and the Monkeys". Wow, I almost forgot about that, the only game I had at the time. No, that's not right, I'm more creative than that. I had several ideas for different games we could play, but this was the only one the girls wanted. And it was the same game every time. I would plant my feet, and put my arms up to my sides, and they would hang from my arms. Even at like, 40 pounds, this could not last long. I am not happy to admit it, but you know, not a big bench presser. So then I would turn into the Big Monkey and chase them around until they couldn't breathe, making monkey sounds that I guess were better than any monkey sounds anyone has ever made, according to them. I don't know why they didn't play this game with John....actually, I do. He had to discipline and set limits and all that stuff; I just had to be Fun Uncle Jim with the Best Monkey Sounds Ever.
So we had played many rounds of this, when I started to see that look in my sister-in-law Lisa's eye. The look every mother gets just before the fun ends. "Time for bed girls, big day tomorrow!" And it took them longer than normal to settle them, and I know it wasn't just because they were excited about the wedding, but because I had riled them up before bed. But Lisa is too great to have made me feel bad about that; she and John just kept taking them to bed after each time they came out (drinks, monsters, the usual suspects that keep kids from falling asleep) until they were finally out.
John grabbed two beers from the fridge, took a long swig from his and handed me one. "Here, for your nerves."
I didn't miss a beat: "I'm not nervous."
He looked at me. Took another swig, and put his feet on the coffee table, since Lisa was putting my baby nephew Brandon to bed. "Yeah, right."
"I'm not. What do I have to be nervous about?"
He was still looking at me and I could already tell I was being set up.
"You are sitting here telling me, the night before your wedding, that you are not the least bit nervous."
"Nope."
"At all."
"Nope." I took another long swig. Not for the nerves, but because now I was going to have to deal with my big brother, who had something brewing. "I'd have married Pam five years ago; you know that." Another drink. "So why should I be nervous?"
He scoffed. "I'm not talking about cold feet or second thoughts, Jim. I'm talking about nerves. Totally different."
I pulled that face, the one that scrunches up like I'm thinking about something, the one that always, always works on Pam, no matter what. Then I shook my head, like I'd thought deeply about it and had decided against it, and I said ".....ummmm, no. Not nervous."
Faces don't work on John though.
Because he started to laugh. A little bit at first, but then more and more as he thought about it. Finally he was clutching his stomach. I had no idea how me insisting I wasn't nervous could be THIS funny. He finally pulled it together enough to say to me: "You're going to crash down so hard tomorrow." And somehow he had to pause for more laughter.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not nervous, and I'm not going to be." Another swig. Here it comes.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Young Halpert."
Crap. Caught.
"Yeah, way too subjective, John. We bet on it, and I can say 'I wasn't nervous', and then I get to rob you of some of your hard-earned cash. You really want in on this bet, bro?"
"Oh, not as subjective as you think."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah, there are signs. Particular to grooms."
That's when I knew I was almost sunk. But backing down is not what we do. "Like what?"
He set his beer on the coffee table and went in for the kill. "OK, here's the deal." He counts off on his fingers. "Sweaty palms. Sweaty everything, and I have to stand next to you, sucks for me. Trembling hands. Stumbling over words."
"None of that is going to happen."
"Fifty bucks says it will."
Damn.
We shook on it. Fifty bucks. I still felt pretty confident, but at that point, maybe not fifty BUCKS confident.
He laughed some more. He laughed quite a lot, when he looked at me, for the rest of that evening.
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