Part Six- "The Best Man"

When I look back now, I swear that Danny was only in hospital for about 2 days, but by the time he came out the wedding was practically upon us. He was able to walk just about OK on his own, but he usually had his hospital issued crutches with him, just in case. There were other times though when he claimed that it was all too much for him and he insisted on using the wheelchair our Grandmother used to use.

The times that he did use the wheelchair, Danny would claim it was because the crutches were rubbing him uncomfortably under the arms and he couldn't possibly use them today. To be honest, it was pretty obvious to me that it was complete bollocks. I quickly began to notice that every time Danny claimed his crutches were rubbing, was when it was hammering it down with rain and we were driving somewhere with a disabled parking spot right next to the door and it meant he didn't have to get so wet.

One such occasion was Danny's Stag do, which took place the Saturday before Danny & Dani were due to get married.

A week before the Stag do, Danny had rung me up and started barracking me with questions.

"So where are we going next weekend then?"

"Hello, to you to Dan."

"Oh yeah, hello. Where are we going?"

"What do you mean?"

"My stag do. My last Saturday as a free man. You hadn't forgotten had you?

"Oh no, I hadn't forgotten." (I had.)

"I thought you might have given it a bit of thought as to where we might go."

"Oh, I had given it some though." (I hadn't.)

"So where are we going then?"

"Erm…"

I'd been so uptight and tense about the wedding and more in particular about doing a speech that I had completely forgotten about all the other tasks and responsibilities that a Best Man has. Including, incredibly, the Stag night – how the hell I could forget that, God knows.

"Well," I continued trying desperately not to sound like I was just pulling a name out of my head, "how about Skaters?"

"No!" It was an emphatic "no" too. Skaters was the name of the club we used to go to when we were younger and was populated by 16 year old girls and 50 year old men in the middle of a mid-life crisis trying to prove to themselves (and usually failing) that they could still pull a teenage girl. It was quite a hideous place to go, why that place popped in to my head at that point, I do not know. But after I gave it a second's thought I knew Danny was right.

"I want to go somewhere not around here."

"How about Nottingham?" I had just read somewhere that Nottingham was the English capital of stag parties, so I thought it was a fair place to suggest.

"No, we can't that's where Dani's going." For a second I thought that Danny was talking about himself in the third person, but it soon twigged what he meant.
"No", he continued, "I want to go to somewhere like Prague or Amsterdam or Vilnius."

"Vilnius?" I replied, "For a start, I don't know where Vilnius is. But I'm guessing like Prague and Amsterdam we'd have to fly. And to be honest Dan I think it's too late to book now. Even if they have got seats left on the plane, at this late stage Mr Easy-Jet will probably charge us so much for the flight we won't have any cash left for somewhere to stay or for something to drink."

It probably wasn't true and I felt mean for saying it, but I just had a feeling in my bones that going overseas would have been a disaster. Luckily Danny paid attention to me for once, though not for the reasons I thought he would.

"And there wouldn't be any money left for you to get me a lap dancer either would there?"

I didn't say anything other than, "So I think we had better stick to this country. How about…" I paused for a bit whilst I thought of a few possible cities. London – no, too expensive. Birmingham – no, too full of Brummies. Cardiff - no, I know what some of Danny's mates are like, they would have probably started to serenade the locals with verses of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot and who knows what sort of trouble that would get us in. And then, a random name just flitted in to my mind, "Brighton?"

Danny smiled and I knew we had got it.

So the following Saturday, me, Danny and six of his friends got into the people-carrier I'd hired and headed down to the south coast. On the way we stopped off at a paintball field and proceeded to shoot the living crap out of each other using small pellets of Dulux, it was great fun.

After that we went straight (well via a pub or two) to Brighton (I insisted that we went to no-more pubs, because until we got to our final location I couldn't have a beer). We checked into a youth hostel and got changed to go out to dinner.
It was absolutely hammering it down with rain and Danny insisted that he took the wheelchair, rather than him having to walk. (We weren't driving, so bang went my theory about the disable parking spaces.) I'd only reluctantly agreed to bring the chair along, hoping that he wouldn't want it, but unfortunately he did.

Danny led the way wheeling his way up the road. He wheeled into the Chinese restaurant where we had a pretty damn good slap-up meal. Then when we'd finished he wheeled it into a pub and then another and then another. He tried to wheel it into a fourth pub, but there was a step and he couldn't get in. Danny shouted towards a Bouncer, who gave him a look as if to say "fuck-off". But when Danny started shouting something about suing them in-line with the Disability rights act, that same bouncer brought us over each a complimentary pint. My brother is absolutely remarkable sometimes.

After that, Danny decided it was time to head to the "Gentleman's Club" as he put it. We asked the Bouncer who had bought us the drinks where the best place was to go and he directed us right next door. Just before Danny wheeled himself inside, he shouted back to me, "Don't forget the lap-dancer, Jack".

I followed Danny and his friends inside and stopped to pay my cover-fee to get in. I asked the girl at the desk if I could arrange a dance for my Brother and she asked who my brother was. I told her it was the one in the wheelchair and she immediately said it would cost more money. I started to mutter something about the disability rights act and she just gave me a look that told me to shut up before I went any further. So I handed over the cash and she told me Donna would be over to see Jack in about 20 minutes.

I walked into the club itself, with my wallet considerably lightened. Jack was sat at a table watching the floor show whilst all his friends (John, Pete, Mikey, Stuey, Davey and Fred) were at the bar getting drinks. Danny was enjoying the floor-show too much to notice that his friends were clearly planning something. They kept glancing over to where we were sitting and breaking out into fits of laughter.

I really knew something was going on when they came back to the table and each said "Alright, Dan" in a very funny way when they sat down. I said nothing though. Half-an-hour later Donna arrived at the table, and that's when the fun began.

Danny sat in his wheelchair and Donna started to gyrate in front of him. Danny had a big grin on his face and the closer and closer Donna got to him the bigger his smile got.

She climbed on top of the chair and was really going some with her hips. Unfortunately, something happened (to this day I don't know what) and the wheelchair brake managed to get released. The Chair, Danny and Donna all managed to tip over backwards sending everything flying. Tables, chairs, drinks, glasses, ice, cigarette butts, ashtrays, everything was just strewn all over the floor.

Donna, stood up and ran off. Before we knew a man came over to us, I thought he was going to help us clear all the mess up, but instead he (with great ease) picked Danny up off the floor and dumped him back into the wheelchair. He then started pushing the chair, with Danny in it towards the door and out of sight.
We all quickly followed, and arrived at the door in time to see the man give Danny a great big shove in his wheelchair. The shove forced him down the street and straight into a concrete bollard. For the second time in 10 minutes Danny was lying on his back having come out of his wheel chair.

"I'm OK." he called out.

That seemed to be a trigger to Mikey, who shauted out "Now!" and he John, Pete, Stuey, Davey & Fred all rushed towards that heap on the floor that was Danny.

"No!!!!" Cried Danny as they all started ripping clothes his clothes of him. They did a bloody thoroughly good job and even managed to get his socks. They chucked the clothes in the wheelchair and ran off. Danny managed to stand up and shouted "Bastards!" at them as they headed into the distance.

He stood there leaning on the concrete bollard absolutely bollock naked, not quite knowing what to do with himself. I was in tears of laughter, I don't think I have ever laughed so much in my entire life.

And then it got even better, in the distance there was the sound of a police siren and a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Danny, what are you going to do? They'll arrest you. I know you can't run, what with your leg, you'd better hide."

"I fucking run fine now." he shouted at me as he ran up the street, with his flabby white arse glowing orange in the light of the street lamps.

I laughed and then answered my mobile, the police siren-like ring tone stopping the second I pressed the green answer button. It was Dani on the other end, wondering how her betrothed was doing. "He's fine I said, a bit occupied at the moment, but he's fine. I'll get him to ring you tomorrow. Oh yes, and by the way, I don't think he's going to want to use the wheelchair at the wedding any more."

"Oh brilliant", she replies, "That's great. Bye." She hung up.

Danny had threatened to use the wheelchair at the wedding, in a way to "prove" he really was still quite badly injured. A week later, Danny didn't wheel down the aisle, he walked.

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2007.