From Jersey, with love

Some time in between smuggling champagne into a hotel with a pink suit case and getting breathed by plain-clothes cops for drinking a beer in the backseat of my cousin's car, I realized something...

I freaking love New Jersey.

Yeah, that's right. Go ahead and make all the sly remarks you want about the Garden State, but all I've experienced is greatness. I went up there last weekend for a wedding between two good friends and it turned into a three-day frenzy full of mischief, dancing and even more mischief.

On Thursday night, it rained hard on the Northeast and the rental car attendant was too lazy to find me a cheap, economy car so he threw me the keys to a Dodge Cruiser and I tore out of there like I was on the run from the law.

A 56-mile flatout burn from JFK Airport to some Italian restaurant, located in the same town I was born in. Crazy. Got to see some old college friends I haven't seen since George Bush Jr.'s first reign of terror.

Friday morning was spent drooling over Tsunami footage and filing stories for my newspaper. "Yeah coach, I'm in New Jersey. No, I will not pick you up a cheese steak. That's the wrong freaking state."

After I grabbed a cheese steak for lunch, I went to the wedding chapel to read a message about love and marriage to 200 people I didn't know. The reception was silly awesome.

My old boss from Dave's Taverna Express tried to steal my suit coat and I ate all the delicious crab craws and shrimp I could fit in my gullet. During the late-night party in the hotel suit -- security only knocked twice -- I popped not one, not two but tres bottles of bubbly. When I woke up the next day, I found a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries next to my bed and my suit had disappeared. Out of sight, out of mind.

Turns out, I was very responsible and took off my all-star wedding threads that night, carefully hung them up inside the room closet and closed the door.

The only problem was that I didn't come to the realization about the suit until Saturday afternoon, when I already had several beers in me and I was consumed inside a drunken crowd of revelers at the St. Patty's Day parade in Morristown, NJ.

I immediately thought I should jump back in the Cruiser and re-claim my suit. I was concerned I might be the same size as the cleaning lady's son and that would not be a good thing.

Instead, my NJ cousins put shots in front of me and a Burger King burger for a chaser. I called the hotel. The suit was still there! I don't trust those hotel front-desk folk so I also called the girl (who was married only 11 hours before) and asked her to grab up my suit for safe keeping.

"It don't matter," I said to myself. "Like when is the next time I'm going to need a suit on St. Thomas?"

Great timing on this one. My girlfriend's work gala is this weekend. Last time I checked, the word "gala" is not synonymous with turtle neck and elegant sandals. Have you ever over-nighted a suit? Yeah, so I got that going for me.

The run-in with the fuzz was squashed quickly. My cousin Lindsay is a NJ state trooper and before you could say the words "Drunk In Public" those rent-a-cops pulled an illegal U-turn and were off hounding other unfortunate souls.

Let's see, how do I sum up the rest of Saturday afternoon?

I heard a strange woman whisper a very crazy message into the ear of my other cousin, Andrew and I saw a girl do the worm dance move on the most disgusting pub floor imaginable. The best part was that I drank delicious draft Guinness all day -- they don't really have too many draft beers on tap on St. Thomas.

Another late night led to a very early wake-up call -- I think I actually grabbed 90 minutes of sleep -- before another high-speed cruise in the Cruiser to JFK for a 7 a.m. flight back to paradise.

The random chatter with random idiots during my flight back home was very much like the valued conversations I had in Jersey with friends, family and other associates.

I guess the shock people get when they learn where I live will never really dissipate. It almost gets overwhelming at times.

"Yes, I live on St. Thomas. Yes, the weather is fantastic. Yes..."

Sometimes, I feel like I should just wear a sign so I can skip all the banter when I meet new people. And at the same time, I always find myself inviting people to come visit me. Even people I don't even know.

"But you just met me, I'm friends with your cousin," one girl said to me.

"Buy me a shot and we'll call it even," I replied.

Wedding season ends on high note

We live in an interesting time. Only in this era can a travel-weary individual make a quick zip to Mexico and the only way his mother could find out if he was OK is if she saw an update on his blog.

Hey mom, I'm back. It was a great time. Can't wait to tell you about the buffet spread.

Wedding Season 2010 is officially over for me and just in time because my wallet is running thin. A four-wedding, three-month run that stretched from California to New Jersey to Mexico was a complete success.

And I'm glad to say I didn't check a bag once. Well, not until I bought a bottle of tequila -- with the worm in it so I think it's called Mezcal -- for an island chum, who watched my dogs while I was away. Had to check that bag because of the liquid but the good people at American Airlines did not charge me. Salud!

The weddings could not have been more different.

During the festivities in California, I was passed out inside my rental car for most of it. No, not because I was drunk. Get your mind out of the gutter. I must have picked up some nasty stomach bug that alerted the attention of Brianna's mom, who's a nurse and considered calling an EMT.

I told her the S*** would burn off and it did. I came back to life a few hours after the reception at a local brewery, which was unfortunate because they named one of their micro-brews that day after the lovely bride and groom. Salud!

In the Jersey wedding, I rubbed shoulders with the Cake Boss, from the reality TV show. Or it may have been his brother ... alright, this time you can scold me for being drunk.

I wore a nice suit, moonlighted as a wedding photographer, introduced my girl to the extended family, and had a chance to catch up with these lovely ladies...

To the left is my gorgeous Aunt Ann O'Dea and on my other shoulder is the fabulous Aunt Fran Gillespie. Both are younger sisters to my beautiful 'Nanny' and from what I was told, they are both huge fans of the blog.

Well, there you go, ladies. You are officially on the blog and therefore, you are now famous. Salud!

Now in Mexico, things were a little different. They always are when you venture South of the border.

Now, this wedding was in Cancun and I had never been to Mexico except for a few blurry experiences in Tijuana. We arrived late and our cab ride was about an hour so we had time to check out the sites.

The strip in Cancun looked a lot like Vegas, except the extravagant water fountains were replaced with late-night burrito stands.

We stayed at an amazing resort and if you're into that kind of stuff -- it was my first ever all-inclusive stay but definitely not my last -- check out their web site.

First of all, many congrats to Dana & Doug for their exciting union and for throwing the week-long shindig that was condensed into a 72-hour freakout for me.

Food, booze, sailing, pool, pass-out nap, repeat.

Some how I forgot to include the crazy amount of tequila that was thrusted down my throat. Another big shout out to Edgar, our Mexican tequila stalker, who probably doesn't know what a blog is but was always there with a tray of tall shots and a smile.

I danced like an idiot at the wedding. For some reason, I crushed a can of beer in the middle of the dance floor, which sprayed on several of the ladies' beautiful dresses. Sorry. I will not pay for the dry cleaning.

The shenanigans went down just this past weekend and some of the prime-time players are still soaking in the lazy river. That means many hilarious photos will soon appear on facebook but for now, this pic survived the trip and was taken on our last night in country.

Notice the water bottle (I was still in the grips of a very serious tequila hangover) and the attire compared to the other weddings. Of course, my beautiful girlfriend stole the show because of her amazing dresses and the weather cooperated like I predicted. Flip flops reigned supreme and I didn't even pack a tie. My bad.

To all the good peps, it was great to see everyone and many best wishes to all the newlyweds.

Now it's back to the grind in paradise. If there is such a thing. Salud!

World Cup fever

The greatest sporting event in the world is going on as we speak and I was supposed to be in attendance. Four years ago, my brother and I traveled to Germany for a freakout that was the 2006 World Cup and it was one of the best trips of my life.


About a year ago, I was starting to make a push for South Africa but this fine newspaper in the U.S. Virgin Islands contacted me and the rest is history. Now, I live in paradise and get to watch the soccer on TV at local bars. It's the middle of winter down there anyway so it all worked out.

My favorite WC picture so far... (it's Diego Maradona)


Last week, I was venting in the office after the U.S.-England game and was running my mouth a little bit. "Bloody bastard" this and "Bad teeth" that. You know, the basic trash-talking.

One of our news reporters, Aldeth, just sat and listened to me with a slight grin on her face. Little did I know that the nice, young intern she just brought into the office is from England. They sat, listened and waited for my ignorant rant to subside. After I was done and trying to catch my breath, Aldeth told me the intern was British and I immediately blushed.

"Shouldn't you guys be happy with the tie?" the intern asked me.

"I was happy with the War of 1812," I said.


Fast forward a couple days. My parents are in town and we've been watching a lot of soccer together. Look at my pops represent Old Glory in the Caribbean.

I took them to a breakfast place this morning to ensure prime-time seats at the bar for the U.S.-Slovenia game.

Of course, we're there 5 minutes before they meet a group of soccer fans from New Jersey, their home state. We combined our powers to exhaust the novice bartenders. It was a great game and a fine atmosphere to take in the action.

When the U.S. scored their third goal (I don't give a shit what that stupid referee said) I jumped for joy and my beer went flying. The folks from Jersey didn't mind.

Watching the England-Algeria game right now. If our favorite French implants can shock the Brits, two things will occur:

1. I'll have more fire to throw back at that news intern.
2. The U.S. team will be in good position to advance.

I love soccer.