Right now, it's 10:24 p.m. At this time, exactly three years ago, I was drinking my 83rd coke of the day and watching my friends play Dance, Dance. I remember commenting to my friend Marcus that cokes usually calmed me down, but that I was so nervous I was shaking. His wedding party partner, one of my wife's best friends, commented that I was probably shaking because I'd drunk 83 cokes.
Twenty-four hours later, I was getting honked at by a trucker on I-35 while heading up to a Hilton in Dallas. The next morning, we flew out of DFW to PBI, where I saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. It was a week of firsts: first taxi ride, first rental car, first dinner on the beach. There may have been more . . .
And now here it is three years later. In some circles, I'm a veteran of married life; in others, I'm still a newlywed. Some people have told me: "The first three years are the hardest; after that, you've got it made." Others have put the number at five years, others at seven. One guy told me that the first 30 years were the most important and set the tone for the real part of your marriage.
Well, here's to the next 27 years so that I can start the real part of my marriage.