I apparently slept through the last week more or less, and the last thing I remember was the wedding. And I leaned an important lesson at the wedding.
Chicks dig Koalas. Especially Koalas in a Tux.
I sat at the head table, as Ken was the best man. I stood up as well. I think. During the ceremony, I was literally on the head table, as the ceremony and reception were at the same place.
I felt comfortable in a chair, but Ken got me a “special chair” so I could see and reach everything better. I’m not sure why there were straps on the chair, but I was assured there was no plot to restrain me and they went unused.
Sometimes people don’t trust strange Koalas. But I was invited, so everyone seemed at ease about it. They didn’t even proof me. But there was no Guinness or some such other geographically appropriate beverage. I would tell you what brand it was, but I think I will hold out for sponsorship royalties.
Now about the women.
The bride showed enthusiastic appreciation I was there. I was even hired out to assist in the adjustment of some strange tourniquet device. It seemed more ornamental than functional. The bride did not seem to need any medical assistance and I am not a certified koala for such things. But I was polite and as helpful as a koala could be under the circumstances.
In some strange tradition, the tourniquet was abandoned by catapult over the crowd. Ken hoisted me upon his shoulders in the hope that I would catch it. I believe it was an attempt to spare one or more people injury but I did not catch it and no one was hurt.
But I was thoroughly koala-handled by the ladies, and some pictures I have omitted for various reasons.
All and all it was an exhausting day. I felt the results of it quite harshly, and apparently the next morning found me fully clothed on Ken’s daughter’s bed. I have no explanation for the lampshade.
Like Ken likes to say sometimes, life is good.