The Groomsmen
While not exactly the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, they aren't exactly a bunch of Ned Flanders clones, either. More like some strange mix of the incompetent escaped convicts from O'Brother, Where Art Thou and Eddie Haskell. They are, however, my groomsmen and are listed below in an approximate order of when I met each of them. Far too many times I've gone to a wedding and not known a thing about the bridal party, so I wanted to let you all know why these guys are so important to me.
Additionally, Chantal thinks I've written far too much and is convinced that no one will find these bios at all interesting. She could be correct. However, I'm willing to bet that the heroic tales of these men's lives will keep you riveted for the approximately 20 minutes it will take to read this entire page. Plus, you will know who to avoid at the reception.
Michael Haswell
The Best Man
I've known Mike for a long time. Probably too long. We met in kindergarten at Cumberland Elementary School in Sunnyvale and continued attending the same schools through college at UCLA. Sometime around the fourth grade, his parents began paying me to hang out with him and we've been friends ever since. I have to wonder if it was one his parents' happiest days to see me as Mike and Lauren's best man at their wedding a few years ago. Money well spent and a great return on the investment.
Mike has always had a taste for the finer things in life, even when (especially when?) he couldn't afford them. As a kid it was Sperry Top-siders and Izod shirts. In high school and college it became car stereo systems and Polo shirts, to the extent that he was often referred to as "Polo Boy." I'm sure that he'll have the most expensive and nicest looking suit at our wedding and I wouldn't want to be the person who accidentally spills a drink on it. He's a lawyer. He'll sue.
We have definitely been through thick and thin together (I'm "thin" to his, well, you get the picture). When the back of a parked pick-up truck ran into the front of his dirt bike in elementary school, I went to the hospital to visit him. When I had to have a plate attached to my collarbone in graduate school, he came to visit me, though he still complains about my trip to the restroom and my hospital gown that was very open on the backside.
A far cry from when he returned from law school and had to have his credit card bills sent to my house to hide them from his parents, Mike had a good turn of fortune at Yahoo! and, despite insisting upon being called "Millionaire Playboy" a few years ago, might be the most generous person I know. If he wants to go to a ballgame and wants a little company, he'll buy tickets for anyone who can make it. If he wants to eat at a trendy new restaurant, but it wouldn't be the same experience without good friends, he'll make reservations and pickup the tab. His generosity does have limits, though. When I asked if he would pay for our wedding, he declined. His counterproposal was that he would pay for it if I became his personal attache. I'm undecided, but apparently the offer stands until April, 28, 2007. Don has been lobbying me hard.
Mike |
John Valencia
Groomsman
I met John in junior high, the years we like to refer as our "glory years." I was probably 5'11" and 85 pounds with hair feathered down the middle. John was probably 4'11" and 85 pounds and only wore black tee shirts. We both experimented with acid-washing our own jeans and are hopeful that no pictures of them survived. We often played a complex game at his house named "Ball." "Ball" involved distributing tennis balls amongst several kids and then running around his culdesac throwing them at each other as hard as we could (or indoors if it was raining). No other rules or goals, though it typically ended with one kid curled-up in the fetal position on a lawn with 3-6 other kids pelting him with tennis balls until the game was over (he cried). (Rhodie, with three boys, see what you have to look forward to?)
In high school, John and I were definitely lady killers. For example, we were honorary members of the school's drill team (at Homestead the cute girls were on the drill team and not cheerleaders) and even dressed in women's swimsuits to perform an unauthorized, though thoroughly choreographed, synchronized swimming routine at halftime of a football game, with nose plugs and everything. Actually, that's a terrible example. How about the fact that John and I were in a garage band together, called Dark Karnival? Well, we were the brass section because they wanted to play Rainy Day Women #12 & 35 in a battle of the bands competition and we probably played only twice with the band publicly before being asked to leave. OK, maybe I'll stop trying to make that point.
To spot John at our wedding, he’ll be the one likely insisting upon making martinis (his idea of adding vermouth is to just wave the closed bottle over the shaker) and respectfully calling my mom, “Fray Baby.” (He’s also the one primarily responsible for all of the “tasteful” gifts my mom has received on Fray Day over the years.) He also insists upon calling me Barl, which is some combination of my junior high and high school nickname, Burt, and my dad’s name, Carl. Watch out for his martinis.
John |
Jae Chang
Groomsman
Jae and I met in high school and played in the, not sure I should mention this, band. Nothing as cool as Dark Karnival, but the school's marching, symphonic and jazz bands. (Incidentally, Mike, John and Jae all played trumpet in our high school band and I played trombone.) Once at a band practice, Jae almost killed me. You see, Jae had 4 older sisters so by the time he became a teenager, his parents had basically no control over him and he started driving when he was only 15 (and looked about 12). At one band practice we were leaving the football field to go back to the band room. It was all of 300 yards, but of course we decided to drive. Jae had a massive station wagon and I decided it would make sense to stand on the back bumper and hold on to the luggage rack. Jae floored it and when he hit a speed bump, I lost my feet and they were dragging on the payment. I managed to hold on to the luggage rack and someone else doing the same thing pulled me back up. Jae never even slowed down.
Speaking of cars and Jae, one played a particularly pivotal role in his life, his dad's white Cadillac. When his dad bought this shiny new car, he adorned it with a personalized license plate - "PCHANG2." None of us knew his dad's first name started with a "p" (because his father hated us and when we would call he would say, "Jae not here!" and hang up) and we had no idea what the "2" was for, so Jae became known as P2. He loves that nickname. Make sure to call him that when you meet him. It goes well in songs, too. Try "Hey Jude," substituting P2… "P2, don't make it bad…" I also always think of him in parking garages.
I have to admit I'm a little nervous about what P2 might do at our wedding. You see, when he spent some time in Korea a few years back, he was a minor celebrity at the school at which he taught English. His celebrity status was solidified during a sold out talent show in which he sang multiple pop songs karaoke style. I procured this video footage and turned it into a cinema verite documentary at his wedding and passed out DVDs as favors. He was so proud (and I still have extra DVDs if anyone wants one). If someone asks him to sing "Barbie Girl," at our wedding, I wouldn't want to be between him and the microphone.
Jae |
Chris Babcock
Groomsman
Chris and I met in high school, but really starting hanging out during our senior year. Our common obsession was volleyball. Homestead didn't have a men's volleyball team and none of us had had any formal training, but during that senior year, we tried to make up the difference with sheer volume. It got to the point where we, clearly ahead of ourselves professionally, would take long lunches to play volleyball. A long lunch might involve playing at a nearby sand court, skipping fifth period (I'm not even sure what class that was) and coming back for our English class in the afternoon. I think our dedication to the sport should be applauded. During the next couple of summers, we would literally play 5 days a week, after work most days and typically once a weekend.
Of our high school friends, Chris and I were the tough guys. At some point in college I think we both discovered weightlifting. (Personally, I went from 185 to 220 in one year on protein shakes and 6 hard-boiled eggs whites a day.) Apparently, lifting adversely affected our testosterone levels, because we used to walk around constantly talking about wanting to get into rumbles. Ironic, because we were idiots and cowards at heart. At a Giants game one time, I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but Chris was in a port-a-potty and had gotten under the skin of some other guys (Chris is a Dodgers fan, so it is to be expected). They started rocking the port-a-potty, with Chris in it, from side to side. This was our chance. I could have defended my friend and gotten into a brawl, testing my manhood. Instead, I think I just stood and laughed. (Chris and I never got into a fight with anyone, though I'm sure we would have won.)
One of my favorite Chris stories is the Winter of Chris. You Seinfeld fans probably remember the Summer of George, where George wanted to do nothing but be ensconced in velvet and eat cheeses. Years ago Chris received a significant severance package from a shrinking dot com. He decided to take 3 months off and have the Winter of Chris, before going back to work. (I'm still not quite sure how his girlfriend, now wife, Megan was talked into this.) Chris started cooking, taking yoga classes, hitting the gym and most importantly, playing lots of golf. He definitely got better than me at one point, though since he recently had twins, I know I can take him, now. The lifestyle appealed to him a bit too much and the Winter of Chris became the Year of Chris. Of course, he has now been managing a very successful software development team for a couple of years and definitely makes more money than me. Hmm. Who got the last laugh? Chantal, I was thinking about taking some time off. How do you feel about velvet?
Chris |
Jake Bayani
Groomsman
Jake and I met in college at UCLA and were roommates for 3 years, living on the same dorm floor our freshman year. (That's amazing because his snoring is truly out of control.) One of my first introductions to Jake was early in our freshman when we were walking through the student store. As typical students, we were saving our money for beer, Shakey's Pizza and Headlines, so we were more there to look the ladies than to spend $50 on a sweatshirt. As we were walking about, I commented that I liked some keychain, but didn't buy it. Upon getting back to our dorm, Jake pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to me, mentioning some sort of "five-finger discount" he had exercised. I still use the keychain today.
Snoring and petty theft aside, Jake was a pretty good roommate, though I sometimes felt like we were on totally different schedules. This was particularly evident during our senior year. You see, Jake likes sleep and I'm able to function on a bit less sleep, relatively speaking. We were sharing a room that year, a room containing both of our beds and desks. By the time we got around to studying, it would often be 10 PM or so. I'd say something like, "I've got a ton to do tonight and have to get up early tomorrow." Jake's reply would invariably up the ante, "I've got so much to do tonight, I might pull an all-nighter." Within 30 minutes Jake would have given up and, careful not to admit his failure, silently slid into bed, leaving me to study for several more hours with his melodic snoring as a study aid. I would then get up before him, shower, pack a bag and head off to campus with Jake still sawing logs in his slumber. I really should get over my jealously after all of these years.
If something goes wrong at our wedding, I'm expecting him bail us out. At his wedding years ago, their reception was at a golf country club in Sunol, CA. His wife, Kelly, had worn gloves during their ceremony but wanted to take them off for the reception. Problem is that they had put on her rings over the gloves and those rings were not coming off. So, I started running (literally) around the facilities looking for a pair of scissors. Eventually, I found a pair and went to work on the gloves. I can't quite remember, but I think I cut off the glove finger tip for her ring finger, in a delicate and dangerous procedure, and we were able to take the rings and gloves off. I know. I was a hero.
Jake |
Eric Lewis
Groomsman
When I met Lewis (no one calls him by his first name) during my freshman year of college at UCLA, I knew would be fast friends. Turns out that he was smooth with the ladies and played the trombone in high school - two things that we had in common. We also shared unfortunate hair. He had a mullet and I had, well I can't quite describe it, but Mike likes to sarcastically call it "cool guy hair." Another reason that I gravitated to Lewis was that he had taken out the bottoms of the drawers in his dorm room closest and fastened the door fronts together to create a facade, behind which he hid a keg. That keg was attached to a jockey box that he kept in his closet. After class, nearly every day, I'd go to my room, drop off my backpack, and take a massive plastic tumbler down to his room for a refreshing adult beverage. How many people have 3 keg parties in their 10x10 dorm rooms?
It turns out that Lewis was an electrical engineering major, though he definitely liked working with wood. Those skills came in handy during our sophomore year when we had two apartments for 8 guys. One apartment became the study apartment, three guys in one bedroom and living room full of desks. The other apartment, well, it served more "social" purposes. Lewis built in it a full bar, stained with drainage and a kegerator, not to mention UCLA spelled in painted Keystone Light cans behind plexiglass. In one bedroom we also had a pool table. However, we also needed three people to sleep in that same room. Hmm. Sounds like a problem for an engineer. Lewis created something, often admired by the local police force, which belongs in the annals of great college rooms - a wooden superstructure from which three beds would hang by chains a couple of feet above the pool table at night (these beds were affectionately dubbed "the swingers"). During the day, those beds were hoisted to the ceiling by a cable and boat winch system. Truly brilliant.
Lewis eventually took some of those skills and put them to use working on the missile defense system, though he from time to time still likes to build the occasional poker table or 77 Plymouth radiator cooled computer system. He is also very likely to be the life of the party at our wedding. If you want to hear more about his engineering endeavors, get him a couple of kamikazes or Irish car bombs and I'm sure he'll share.
Eric |
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