For the uninitiated (or those too lazy to click on the link above), Bergen-Butler is my urban family, formed at age 23. Bergen is shorthand for the boys, who lived on Bergen Street -- Alex, Bajir, and Kabir (Bajir and Kabir are not, as one might assume, Islamic twins, but rather exceedingly lovely and goofy and artistic white boys and best friends who were raised in the same Sufi community in Pennsylvania). Butler is shorthand for the ladies, who lived on -- wait for it! -- Butler Street: myself, Ellaree, and Betsy. Together we formed a brother/sisterhood rivaled only by the He-Man/She-Ra relationship in its raw power and feeling of unstoppable destiny*.
*I had to Wikipedia He-Man and She-Ra just now and I had always assumed they were lovers. I'm pretty sure I, um, made them lovers as a child, playing with their figurines. Oh, God.
Anyway, in 2004 at another friend's wedding, Bergen-Butler made a pact that whenever one of us got married, we would all gather to celebrate it, and to reunite.
On Sunday, Kabir and his lovely bride Ani got married against the staggering backdrop of Mount Hood in Oregon.
This is Ani and Kabir.
And this is Alex pointing out Mt. Hood.
We spent Friday and Saturday nights at the airport HoJos, which was sketchy as hell. It was, however, located just steps from a 7-Eleven (and late-night drug dealing hub) that sold giant sheets of Rice Krispies treats. So it was, overall, a win.
No rehearsal dinner is complete without a 2-lb. block of partially-hydrogenated awesomeness. Betsy knows.
Our goal for the weekend, other than to watch Kabir get hitched, was to get as fat as possible, so we hit up Voodoo Donuts (tagline: "The magic is in the hole").
The bonus? Voodoo Donuts had a photobooth. It rivals Economy Candy now as the place I want my ashes scattered when I die.
Also, because I am actually a twelve year-old boy, I bought...
This, the only crappy photo in the post, was taken by me. All other photos courtesy of Jeff.
If you like beaver jokes, you'll love Oregon!
When not eating beaver (see?), we took Big Chill-esque group photos:
And I fulfilled a lifelong dream of being the top of a human pyramid/Ponzi scheme.
The human centipede, not pictured, was less successful. But our group jump was awesome, mostly thanks to Ellaree's entire body.
The only way to end the weekend was with some black-light pirate-themed mini-golf. I hustled Jeff, Alex, and Ellaree. What can I say?
I'm a baller.