you can't smoke in here-- rachel and kym squeal and embrace. rachel is slightly awkward as emma frantically tries to keep the billowing fabric from combustion.
kym!
kym, i'm not remotely surprised you're starting your drama already, however it's rachel's wedding and this week it's about her.
psychology. not psychiatry. you know the difference, right?
a while.
n.e.d.s?
elvis stoyko the figure skater?
where'd she get the skates from?
she's got everyone she knows pulling elf duty.
and you're such a diplomat.
it's softball. someone was chasing them.
i don't eat gluten, paul!
gluten!
pandas are endangered.
we're all wearing lilac.
it's good to have a principle. kym ignores her.
that's odd.
blow me.
i know i have nothing better to think about.
what?
yes.
is it what you want?
fine. the crown is yours, first runner up.
it's not about you.
hooray for sisterhood.
is it because you owe them money?
kieran would you like some more saag paneer?
and here i was thinking tonight was about rachel!
of course. i'd like to make a toast to the happy couple because i want to come visit them in hawaii.
i've known the bride her entire life. not biblically, except for that one time we french kissed at evan yassky's party in the ninth grade.
commence embarrassing story.
rach, do you remember the time i was teaching you to drive in the wagoneer and you sideswiped that taxi driver and knocked off his side mirror?
do you remember trying to outrun him and leading him on a high speed chase across 96th street?
well i would like to share with everyone that miss rachel-before she got her license or even had any idea how to drive- out maneuvered an irate, screaming cab driver across 96th street to the east river, handily avoiding two emt guys loading an old lady on a gurney, while at the same time, applying cocofudge lip gloss in the rearview mirror.
wait, wait. she actually got the number of one of the e.m.t guys and went out with him. twice.
anyway, when the taxi driver finally caught up with us, rachel talked him down from his middle eastern fury in pretend farsi, and ended up using his radio thing to call his dispatcher and recommend this guy for a commendation.
we were driving so fast! it was one of the more exhilarating moments in my life. sadly. but i knew that miss rachel would make it okay. so here's to you, my dear, dear friend. a woman who can drive fast, pick up a paramedic, make up languages and get you home in one piece. sidney, you are a lucky bastard.
oops. that's nine. i thought you were having tables of eight?
i'll take it.
oh. my. god.