Inside, there was about 120 people, average size for a modern Chinese wedding, but not by any means undrinkable. The bride and groom then had all kinds of things to do on stage, like saying their oaths, exchanging rings, the kiss, a toast, cutting the cake, ritualistic goat sacrifice, etc. It was a cocktail of all the official stuff that would happen in a church in the west, combined with some of the traditions of a western wedding’s reception. Luckily for me and the bridesmaid, we didn’t have to do dick all during the lot of it. Knowing that, I was on another planet, defending hapless beauties from ill-tempered apes.

Finally after all the formalities, lunch started to make it’s way to our plates. There was all kinds of things, some of it I might have even considered eating, had I not been under the impression that I was going to need room in my stomach for approximately 100 ounces of some form of alcohol. Drinking on an empty stomach, that’s the way to do it kids.

I did try a few things, one being a sea cucumber. For the uninitiated, sea cucumbers are famous in China for having many health a vigour inducing properties. They are ridiculously expensive. The truth is that they are slimy oblong objects that are coated with spikes. Imagine a piece of poo trying by voodoo witchcraft to transform itself into a porcupine, but by some infernal flaw, failing halfway. That’s what they look like. And let me tell you, they look a lot better than they taste. I only know because I was urged to try it by the groom. I ate approximately 1/10th of the little bastard before I started to choke to death. That wasn’t enough though, he insisted I eat the whole thing. I made it to half, before I considered my health, and the hotel’s carpets, and I promptly buried the remaining piece under a tomb of rice and vegetables.

After all the food was served things got down to business. A number of startling but miraculous details were quickly revealed to me. First, all the toasting that I had feared up until this point was happening immediately instead of at the night time banquet as I had originally expected. Not to worry though, because I was handed a bottle of wine that was filled with a very lightly alcoholic grape juice, to bamboozle people into thinking it was real wine.

Around we went. Every single person of every table got their chance to ganbei with the wedding party. Most of the time it was just with the bride and groom, and the bridesmaid and I were relegated to refilling glasses, but at every table there was always one or two old guys who wanted their chance to ganbei with me. And oh, it couldn’t be with our wine spritzer concoction, no, it had to be the real Maotai baijiu, the stuff nightmares are made of. There was about 15 tables, so naturally the groom and I had to take turns defending each other from that satanic sauce.

By the last few tables, things started to get crazy. Instead of toasting with each of the people from the table (they were all younger friends), the table would force us to down rice bowls that had been filled with run off oil from the different dishes that had been served, combined with Maotai. After one and half of these, I vowed no more. Once we reached the final table they had a special surprise. I could chose either another punch bowl of poison, or a piece of cake with about 20 tooth picks sticking out of it. I couldn’t ask what I was to do with it, I had to choose one or the other. I could only think of them making me swallowing that damn ball of toothpicks like a pill, but if I had any more of the Maotai-oil mix, my stomach would beg for harakiri. Turns out it was a game, the bridesmaid had to hold the piece of cake by one of the toothpicks in her mouth, and I had to remove all the toothpicks with my mouth! Pretty good game you’re all thinking. Yeah so did I, but her boyfriend who was standing right behind sure didn’t. I however managed to pull out every single tooth pick without coming into contact with her, which her BF probably appreciated. At this point the banquet was pretty much over, so people started to clear out, while we stuck around shootin the shit with whoever was left.

The rest of the afternoon was not free time as had been suggested by the groom, but was actually a photo session in Badaguan, a former German Colonial concession that is now a giant urban park. Since I didn’t think there’d be much me in the photos, I wandered off into a secluded area and passed out in a bush. Sure enough, sleep was futile as every 15 minutes or so my presence was needed. I soldiered on like a man and we finished the photos before sundown. With that out of the way, we piled into different cars and made our way to the next banquet hall.

Even though I only got about 15 minutes of delicious nap time at the park, I was re-energized for the second banquet. This time I actually got to enjoy the food, because there was no toasting of formalities, it was just eat, drink, and enjoy. The drinking part was a way more relaxed affair, and everyone was taking it easy…at first. There was also only about half as many people at this banquet than there was at the first one. I was doing alright, despite a few more calls to ganbei with the Maotai. The groom on the other hand…well by the time we took him home at around 10pm he was toasted. He couldn’t even stand on his own two feet. That’s cause he didn’t have the power of the power nap on his side, so I don’t blame him. My liver is a real stubborn masochistic mofo, so of course I had to head out for even more drinks with some Korean friends after the ordeal.

All in all, in summary, and to conclude on this event with some reflection, I’d have to say Chinese weddings fucking kick ass. The culture and traditions involved may be a little hard to comprehend for my primitive foreign barbarian brain, but I had a good time all the same. Would I do it all again? Well, my friend slipped me one little nugget of information about being a best man in China. If you’re already married, you’re ineligible. So Mom and Dad, just wanted to let you know, I’m getting hitched ASAP.

Now it was the bride’s turn to get the green light from the groom’s parents. More stuffed envelopes changed hands, and tea was served by the bride to the new in-laws. At this point everyone was more mellow as most of the major traditions had been fulfilled. Lots of photos and video were taken, some games with little kids asking the newlyweds something I can’t remember, and we all boarded up into our red convoy of cars to the banquet hall.

There was one more surprise that I should have anticipated. You see, I met this friend of mine through the mountain biking scene in Qingdao when I first arrived there. Over the years we managed to keep riding together despite the fact that I’m always on the move and he works a strange schedule. I love biking. He loves biking. He loves his new wife. But he also still loves biking. We stopped halfway to hotel where the banquet was to be and I asked what was going on.

“We waiting for few moar friends, should be ten minute” he said.

Sure enough 10 minutes later and an entire squadron of bikers showed up, their bikes all blinged out with balloons and wedding decorations, ready to accompany us to the banquet. That wasn’t all.

“Get out of car, we ride!”

We all got out, two people got off their bikes and let the bridesmaid and I ride, while one guy had a bike for the groom and bride to double on. I was having a hard enough time riding in a suit and dress shoes, I takes some real bananas to double a girl who’s wearing a dress that runs 20 feet long without it getting caught up in the gears. Every damn pair of eyes along the route was glued to us like they watching an Adam Sandler movie for the first time, happy, some laughing, unaware that it only gets dumber and funnier the more you think about it.

Arriving at the banquet hall, we were greeted by an even larger group of noise making people and dragon dancers than was at the house. This group were real pros, they made the last group look like street bums. There was actually three weddings going on that day, and they all do it at the same time, so the huge crowd waiting at the door wasn’t all for us. There was other groups of noise people and dragon dancers waiting for the other newlyweds, which was a little awkward. I’m not sure why, just left an air of tension to the scene. I was almost waiting for the noise people to try and out noise each other and the dragon dancers to have a dragon dance off. Shit woulda gone down! Down to Chinatown! Riiiight…Anyways after all the chaos and paparazzi mob of photos we made our way in.

*Chinese weddings have nothing in fours and no fours. Now don’t you forget it!

At this point in the game my duties as banlang (伴郎) officially began. First, I had to pose as if I was making sure the groom looked sharp. You know, padding him down, brushing invisible dust off his suit, staring at him from different angles as if it made some kind of difference. The cameraman filmed away and people snapped pictures, this was a big deal. After he was ready, and the house was fully set up, we were off to go pick up the bride. Once we made our way outside, I had to make sure to follow the groom around the whole day, leaving no door unopened and no bidding unbid. This was all part and parcel. As a total surprise to me, when we got outside, there was a shiny red Land Rover waiting for us. I thanked the norse gods for this, because it would quickly become apparent why we did all the driving the night previous. We were plotting the routes that we would take with the caravan of cars (all red of course), and how long it would take so that we could arrive at the different places on time. You see, it’s essential that on the wedding day, the newlyweds do not retrace any given route to get back to a destination. Every trip has to be an entirely new way, otherwise it would signify going back, and could lead to the clock turning backwards, back to being unmarried, then pimply teenagers, turning into kids, and then little babies, and next thing you know it’s Benjamin Button all over again and no one wants that flapdoodle. Yes I just used the word flapdoodle…deal with it.

We got to the brides house after a very enjoyable ride, since I was shotgun and would be the whole day. Once there, we had to bribe our way in the door using small packets of red envelopes filled with money, and singing some songs as a part of the traditional games thing. I was feeling pretty hungry and tired already and wasn’t having any of it, so I kicked in the door while yelling “LISTEN UP BITCHES ITS TIME TO GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD.” Ahh who am I foolin, reality was more like a solid rendition “I’m a little teapot” and the girls decided we could proceed. Finally, the groom met the bride (looked as though she spent about 3 hours getting ready), and had to carry her downstairs to meet her parents. There, the groom formally asked the bride’s parents if it was cool if they got hitched, which they seemed to be very cool with, considering the very fat red envelopes that were bestowed upon the groom. Then each of the brides parents had to eat some kind of candy, and it was dumpling time. The bride and groom had to help each other eat some dumplings, while the bridesmaid and I also got chow down. The key here was we all had to leave exactly two dumplings left in the bowls to signify the testicles…I mean the couple. This was a difficult task for me, as not having eaten much the night before, my stomach felt as though it was about to go down like Three Mile Isle and eating those dumplings was like throwing more nuclear fuel on that run away reaction. Hopefully things wouldn’t go critical.

After we finished up dinner, the girls and guys separated, for if we were to see each other after the stroke of 12, all our genitals would dry up and fall off according to a legend I just made up. My friend, two of his friends and I jumped in a car and headed for what I thought would be his new home. The girls went off to the old home where they would spend the night hopefully having pillow fights. While we did head to the new house, we only stopped there for a few minutes, and then proceeded to drive around for 3 hours to different places (the hotel where the wedding reception would be, his old house, his new house) back and forth and never taking the same route. We did this at no faster then 30km/h. I thought I was going to lose my mind and my bladder, cause I really had to pee, but I kept silent and figured it was just another one of those cultural peculiarities that would soon be put down like a sick dog by the globalism veterinarian.

We finally returned to his new house sometime past midnight, and spent a few hours talking about the next day. The other guys were already married so they told stories about how their last moments of freedom went down…the toilet. As soon as they mentioned that we’d be getting up at 5:30, I was already under the covers restricting my breath as hard as I could so as to pass out as quick as possible. It wouldn’t be quick.

When I inquired as to the statistical break down of the drinks, he replied that it would mostly be beer, with the occasional shot of baijiu or wine thrown in to keep shit real. This put my mind at ease, for I knew that strategically speaking, if I kept my stomach devoid of food, I could easily down a couple 40s of beer give or take, and the odd shot would be diluted with no affect. By his estimates there were to be about 100 guests. That would be grounds for entry into the century club right there. Not bad. Not bad at all. Then more bad news. The baijiu served would not be just any baijiu, but Kweichew Moutai baijiu. In Chinese, this drink isn’t even called a wine or a liquid, but a “sauce”. One time, I gave my friend back home a bottle of it for his birthday for shits. He took half a shot and then everything that was formerly within his digestive track was ejected at a remarkable velocity. Later he passed out in a bathtub somewhere. That should give you an idea. In summary, I would sooner consider tapping a volcano and taking a shot of liquid magma than deal with Moutai…repetitively.

Despite checking into the hotel around 11:30pm thanks to Air China and their mysterious “air traffic control delays”, my friend insisted on taking me out for beers. He also explained that in China the debauchery of bachelor parties has yet to fully catch on, but knowing I was very much not Chinese, assured me he still wanted to get into some trouble. His idea of trouble of course was me undergoing excessive beer consumption, dancing on bouncy dance floors and him living vicariously through me as I hit on girls that looked like they would have had more fun watching rigor mortis set in.