Hi I’m Mick O’Dell. Remember that start of that Dickens tale “The Tale Of Two Cities”? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Well this is the tale of the best worst week of my life. Or maybe the worst best week of my life.

December 23, 1975

My boss and best friend Barry was getting married in January and tonight was going to be his bachelor party. His brother, an officer on the St. Louis County Vice Squad, was supplying the entertainment. The party was being held in a large suite at an unnamed hotel in Western St. Louis County.

I was not a huge drinker at the time and was assured that I would not be allowed to over indulge because I was to be on an Amtrak train to Chicago at 6:45AM on December 24. I was going to be married myself that week.

My dear friend decided that the bachelor party should be for me too. I drank too much and was taken advantage of my each of the three women brought to the party. They managed to give me my first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, etc, etc, etc blow jobs. All while pouring Michelob down my neck.

I passed out at some point and my good friends, God bless them, poured me onto the train at the appointed hour.

December 24, 1975 – Christmas Eve – Recovery Day

I came to when the train stopped at the Champaign/Urbana station and three lovely coeds stopped laughing at me long enough to stand and get off to go to the U of Illinois. I passed out.

The train stopped at Union Station and the conductor woke me and told me it was time to get off. I rose, grabbed my backpack and suitcase and left the train. I was wearing sunglasses, dark ones, and had the brim of my ball cap pulled low enough that when I walked into the station, I split my future mother and father-in-law like a goal post.

The called my name and I straightened up and turned to face them. I took off my sun glasses and cap, greeted them and when they could see that I was in terrible shape, they led me to their car and took me to their home in Des Plaines.

On the way I explained about the party, sans the multiple blow jobs, and told them of the horrors of drinking too much for the first time. At their home, they put me to bed. I woke in time for a late dinner and to say hello to my fiance.

After a nice quiet evening, I slept long and deeply.

December 25, 1975 – Christmas Day

The family I was going to marry into is Italian. The Christmas breakfast featured some sort of wine as did lunch and dinner was all wine, it seemed. I always seemed to have a glass of wine in my hands as I spoke to aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, grandparents from Germany (here try this German wine) and Northern Italy (no this Italian wine from the Alps is better).

I was poured into bed just before midnight.

December 26, 1975 – Recovery Day

I was allowed to sleep in and at about 10AM my fiance woke me with a lovely kiss. She said all the women were going to go shopping and that I was to go with her father and brother to play golf.

I’ve never played golf.

It was December in the northern suburbs of Chicago and I was playing golf in snow boots and a borrowed parka and gloves. Not golf gloves, winter, stop your hands from freezing off gloves. I was the source of continuous joy and laughter for my future father and brother-in-law.

The good thing is that the cold fresh air really helped to clear the hangover out of my body. When we finished the 18 holes, we stopped for a drink and I had a Pepsi. My future father-in-law whispered to me, “Good choice”.

We had a lovely evening meal and played cribbage into the wee hours of the morning. Then my fiance reminded everyone that there was a wedding the next day and we all went to bed. I slept well.

December 27, 1975 – My Wedding Day

I got up early and showered. I met the family for a big breakfast and then a quick kiss on the cheek from my fiance before she was whisked off to the hair salon, the dress salon, and the hotel to dress for the wedding.

I, on the other hand was taken to a wedding supply shop to try on my tuxedo. Having been a swimmer, my body was a mess. I had huge thighs and skinny calves. Broad shoulders and a 52 inch chest were accompanied by a 27 inch waist. I was long in the torso and short in the legs. To bottom it all off, I had size 12 ½ feet with an E width.

Well after noon I was done and on my way to the hotel so I could have lunch with the wedding party on my families side. That means my mother and my brother were there. I was pretty estranged from my family. Most of whom lived in Northern Wisconsin.

Once finished with this event, I went to my room for a nap before dressing for the wedding.

The wedding.

It was an Italian wedding. I walked in and was handed a glass of wine and was kept busy greeting guests and drinking more wine.

I met another of my fiances uncles. This one was straight out of the Godfather (I later found out, rightfully so). Finally the great moment came.

I stood next to the man who was going to perform the wedding. Did I mention that my fiance was my junior high sweetheart? That she moved away at the start of my Freshman year in high school. I next saw her during the summer before I left for college in Missouri while she was moving back to Chicago.

I came home for Christmas to find that she was moving to Arizona to go to Arizona State. When I came home that summer, she stopped by to tell me that she was getting married. I attended the wedding and brought a pretty friend who was on the swim team with me.

Two years later. I came home for the summer to find she was divorced from her druggy, abusive husband and wanted to start up. She was in Chicago, I was in Southwest Missouri. We saw each other three times over the next two years and decided to get married.