Golf, Tiki Bars, and a Palm Springs Wedding
Down to Palm Springs for a wedding, which in practice meant a whole weekend of everything else too.
The first night was dinner with the group — big round tables, thumbs up all around — and then tiki bars, plural. One had a lava-rock wall and a giant clamshell fountain; the other had a sailfish mounted over the bar, which we posed with as though we had caught it.
Golf got squeezed in as well, out on a course with a pond off the tee and the San Jacinto mountains stacked up behind everything. Three of us in trucker hats trying to look like we belonged.
The wedding itself was in a garden — long wooden tables on the grass, string lights through the olive trees, red cups appearing as the evening went on. By dark it was all arms around shoulders and cans of beer, the mountains gone black behind the lights.