Cousin Jake

So as you may know, I recently had my wedding. As part of the wedding, in America, you have the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. As it turns out, that is not the same in China. In fact, the whole concept seems foreign. As a result, when I was preparing to go to the rehearsal, my wife informed me that her parents would not be joining us. As an American, I can tell you that this would be a very offensive action. With that said, my wife spoke two her parents and they decided to come. I tell you that prelude, so that you understand the stress that I am under, when going to the rehearsal dinner. Getting everyone together, so that everyone could meet each other, and one side almost "no-showed".

Shortly after I sat down, with everyone that needed to be at the dinner, my groomswoman asks if i could use a shot. I immediately accept and we B-line it to the bar. That's where we meet up with my cousin, Jake. His name isn't Jake, but it's close enough. Jake is a bookie. Not only that, but he is a bookie in Puerto Rico. Not really. He's in a different country, but Puerto Rico sounds nice. Jake is wealthy. Jake is stupid wealthy. I mean, he has fuck you money. So when my groomswoman and I go for a shot, Jake immediately asks what we want. I say tequila, and he proceeds to order the most expensive tequila he can (Tres Hermanos). The shot tastes just like a margarita. So good!

A little bit later, and my wife and I are getting ready to leave for the airport. The photographer fucked up his flight, so we have to get him late. As I am leaving, my cousin asks if I want a shot for the road. I shrug and say, "Sure?". Jake then yells at the bartender, "Hey! Stop what your doing, we need tequila shots! That martini? Fuck it! Whoever ordered it, fuck 'em!" Sure enough, the bartender puts down the shaker cup (he was mid-shake) and starts pouring the shots. It turns out that the martini was for the people two seats over. They looked pissed. My cousin then toasts, "To the one's we love, and the one's who love us. And for the one's that hate us, fuck 'em!".

Later still, my wife and I return to the bar. The rehearsal dinner is done, and we are the only ones left. I order one last round of shots, and tell my wife about what happened with Jake and the shots. Bartender comes up and says, "Your cousin was tipping well. The other people weren't. I work for cash."

Moral of the story: I need to become a bookie in Puerto Rico. Not really. I need to become a bookie in that other country.