I was on a high Thursday because I knew by 5pm, I would be midair heading to California to share in the wedded bliss of Twin and Triplet as the best man to their nuptials.

And then, Micro-Manager brings me back down to Earth.

"So while I think you're doing a phenomenal job working here, have started many new initiatives and accomplished more in your six months here than the other person in your position did the entire three years he was here…I'm going to have to put you on probation for another six months. This also means you won't be eligible for a merit raise."

<sigh>

I told myself I would handle that situation once I come back and bring in HR on the matter. I get 5/5 across the board on my evaluation, but no merit raise? Relax, relate, release.

I went home, grabbed my bags and a cold-cut sub from Gutbusters and headed on down to catch my flight. I'm not sure what it is about the airport, but I love seeing all those people ready to take off to their destination or coming back from a long flight and running into their loved ones. Not to mention how the airport seems to function like its own mini city with roadways, restaurants, sleeping quarters. Think Dogma, but less schmaltzy. I also ran into the influx of Black gays coming in for the annual Black Gay Pride festivities. I think I passed by Rashid, but there were too many brown brothers in locks to tell. I just felt fortunate to be away from the hysteria and not be in another position for more embarassment or worse, another damn panic attack.

Moreover, my love life has been topsy-turvy as of late with the return of Hey Mr. DJ!, McQuickie's 11th hour reprisal, and even an accidental call to Apollo. Yes, shit has become so bad where I'm picking through my own leftovers.

Leaving the stress of work and my personal life behind me in Atlanta, I slept the entire flight to California.

I touched down in Oakland and there was Twin running across the concourse screaming out my name.

"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARSH!"

"What's up, homie? Man, I am so glad to be 3000+ miles away from Atlanta you just don't know."

We had a tearful embrace as he kissed me on my forehead and said "I love you man - I'm so glad you could show up. Are you ready for this?"

"Am I ready? You're the one getting hitched!"

We laughed and shot the shit driving down I-880 to Santa Clara, badly singing along to some local rap group on KMEL, catching up on the past few months and recollecting the summer of 2001. My crazy vegan roommate Ming. Getting drunk at 4am in Korean karaoke bars trying to sing. Going to Ocean Beach and not doing a goddamn thing. Those were the daaaaaaays….

I got online for a hot minute before heading out with Twin to meet his family and the groomsmen and bridesmade for a pre-wedding dinner at Boulevard Restaurant on the waterfront. I felt incredibly at ease, enjoying my pan-seared duck, mellow from a nice inky-red Cabernet and relishing the time spent with Twin and his family until one of the groomsmen dropped the bomb.

"So Twin…why'd you pick some gay dude to be your best man over your boys you've known forever?"

I knew it was coming. This inquiry was from H-List Rapper who scored fame on a sub-local level and flickered just long enough to be recognized by public access before settling into a life of job-to-job living and baby mama drama. Actually, all his boys are pretty much in that same boat holding onto OG dreams with reckless abandon and inimitable stupor. Twin looked at him and said "I chose him because I wanted to. End of story." I figured he and they would be fine with that, but I'd have to deal with them come Friday. After dinner, Twin and I hit it back to Santa Clara where we got drunk off of tequila shots, played Texas Hold'em, and fell asleep.

Friday, Twin headed to the barbershop, and I met up with Twin's brother to go over the final preparations for the bachelor party that night. Twin and I met back up and agreed to head to the local YMCA to help out with Hurricane Katrina relief efforts. We spent about six hours there helping out some displaced victims, loading up clothes and other supplies to go out to New Orleans and just doing our part to give back. I was chatting with one of the other volunteers when I noticed Twin sitting on the curb crying.

"Dude, what's wrong?"

He didn't say anything; he just hugged me. I don't know if it was all the pressure of the wedding or experiencing part of the enormity of the New Orleans situation, but he broke down and just cried. I don't think I've ever met a man so emotional. It was actually refreshing from the thug posturing I see so much of in Atlanta. We caught a quick bite in Mountain View, jetted back to his place to shower and change, and then it was off to the bachelor party. There was a big turnout — at least 40-50 people — and when we stepped in the door around 11pm, the groomsmen were already good and drunk and acting crazy. H-List Rapper came up to me saying "What's up, fffffffaggot? I bet you like being around all these niggas, don't you?" His breath reeked of Old English.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I snatched him up by his collar and sat him down in a nearby chair.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is but…"

He hopped up in my face saying "You are my problem muthafucka!"

"Man, sit your ass down. For real. I don't want to get into any kind of scuffle here. We are both here for Twin. We are both going to be in the wedding. So what if you're the groomsman and I'm the best man. Who cares? We're both going to be at the wedding, so calm the fuck down! I'll even give you and the rest of the groomsmen a peace offering to show you that I am, in fact, the best man." And so the strippers came out, the alcohol poured freely, and a good time was had by all.

Lapdances: the universal straight man olive branch.

Saturday was a small intimate affair on the island of Alameda. Triplet was swathed in a lovely strapless white maxi with a short train; Twin in a three-button Jaguar tuxedo. The bridesmaids wore lilac; the groomsmen, in black suits. I looked particularly fetching in a shawl collar tuxedo. Twin's mother wanted to preside over the nuptials, but Triplet's grandfather married the two instead. As they recited their vows, a cool breeze flew through the outside wedding. While I was happy for the two, I kept wondering to myself…would this ever be me? Would I ever find someone and be in that long or serious a commitment where I could find myself standing at the altar? How long would it take? Hell, I can barely keep interest in a man longer than a month; Twin and Triplet have been together for 12 years. They're both 24. Shit, I'm 24. I was too busy spinning these thoughts in my head that I missed the original cue for the ring.

"And with the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

The rest of the time after the wedding was kind of a blur. The reception had the standard electric slide and Soul Train lines, and I gave a rousing toast which I don't even remember because I ad-libbed the entire thing. I checked into a hotel near the Oakland Airport for the remainder of my trip, and about 2 1/2 hours before my plane was to leave, I was telling myself to not even bother. Why go back to Atlanta? What's here…my job? A whole bunch of bad memories, dates gone sour, and friends gone AWOL? The pull for me to stay in Oakland, pull from my savings for a while, find a job and never look back was strong.

But common sense was stronger.

I shuffled over to the airport, checked in and looked at my cell phone. There was a call from Death to Shakespeare.

"Hey Karshie, this is your mother. I was just calling to tell you that I love you."

Did I really want to go back to this…and the guilt? But as I thought about it, it was best I go back home and then prepare and plan for the big move. Besides, I had a lot of fun here in California, more than I've had in a long time. And I got to see my boy and his girl jump the broom and sail off into matrimonial bliss.

Then I came back to Atlanta to a sea of negative criticisms, IMs and e-mails about the Black Weblog Awards results and getting called everything but a child of God for doing what I felt was a good thing.

<sigh>

Welcome back, Karsh. Welcome back.