You're kidding, right?

Mr. B's funeral, as is everything else in my life, was a complete fiasco.

My father insisted on going to the wake with me, so I drove over to his house to pick him up. As I walked through the door, I smelled a familiar smell...oh no...

K: "Dad, you didn't..."
D: "It's been a bad week."
K: "DAD!!!"
D: "Honey, it was only half, no big deal."
K: "You really just got stoned before Mr. B's wake."
D: "I'm just buzzed, it's like a beer! Relax!"
K: "You're walking in by yourself. I can't believe this."
D: "Nobody can tell, you're overreacting."
K: "Put some cologne on...Jesus Christ..."

I drove there with the windows open, and it was cold. That'll teach Dad to burn one on my watch.

We walked in and got into line, me trying to distance myself from Pothead, and Pothead chatting up the ladies in the line. After about 10 minutes of waiting, my uncle walked in and came up to me, wearing a dirty sweatshirt and ripped jeans. Good Lord...

U: "Hey K, how you doing."
K: "I'm ok. Isn't the line outside the door?"
U: "You know what I'm gonna do right now?"
K: "What?"
U: "I'm slipping in right in front of you."
K: "WHAT?"
U: [cuts in, receives icy glares] "I won't be long."
K: "I can't believe this. You just cut the line at a wake."
U: [laughs]
K: "Great. My tires are going to be slashed when I get out of here, and you laugh."

We paid our respects and got out of there before the real crowd started. By the time we left, the line was around the corner, so I had to walk past all these normal people with The Pothead and The Guy With Dirty Jeans And No Manners.

The next morning, the husband and I were getting ready for the funeral...

H: "K? Would you care if I wore dark jeans to the funeral?"
K: [musters up the iciest glare imaginable]
H: "I guess not."

At the church, as we stood by the stairs, waiting for the casket to roll on up, whose phone rings but the husband's, and his ringtone is "Animal I Have Become" by 3 Days Grace, and it's on the loudest setting. More dirty looks. Dear God.

We ended up getting cut off on the way to the cemetery, and stuck at a red light [the girl in front of us wasn't keeping up, and allowed 3 cars to get in front of her, what the fuck!!!], so we completely lost the processional with about 20 cars behind us. We whipped the funeral flag out of the window, cut through downtown and were doing about 50 trying to catch up. A call to my father revealed that we were actually ahead, as they'd taken some roundabout route all over the damn town, so we parked at what we knew would be the last stop and waited to sneak back in.

D: "This is taking forever! This is the first funeral where I've busted out the one hitter!"
K: "DAD!!! JESUS CHRIST, OPEN YOUR WINDOWS."
D: [hysterical laughter]
K: "THIS ISN'T FUNNY, I'M NOT STANDING NEXT TO YOU AT THE CEMETERY."

We casually pulled in to the back of the line, and as we arrived at the cemetery we discovered that the 20 cars that were behind us downtown had gone straight there and were waiting. This one lady saw our car, pointed, and said, "Well, we WERE behind THOSE people." Great, so everyone thinks WE fucked up the processional. Somebody kill me, now.

What a scene. Mr. B was probably laughing his ass off. I don't think I've ever been so horrified in my life.