I've always wanted to be invited to one of those multi-day, wild-and-crazy wedding extravaganzas in an exotic location.

I've seen those events in movies set in Las Vegas or on a private estate with stars like Vince Vaughn or Cameron Diaz. Just this season, "The Office" gang on TV trekked to Niagara Falls for Jim and Pam's wedding.

The most fun wedding I've attended was my own. Marge and I loaded family and friends onto the "Goodtime II," anchored the boat off the Alki Lighthouse and tied the knot in a homemade wedding ceremony. Afterwards, we ate a potluck dinner and danced to cassette tapes.

But the guests came to us and it was a pretty simple affair.

Last year, I missed out on my best opportunity to date when we were unable to attend nephew Paul's wine-country wedding.

So, when nephew Mark and his fiancé Sara invited us to their wedding in the hills above Berkeley, California, I RSVP'd back immediately, even though it was set for the weekend before Thanksgiving.

It looked to me like my imagined giant group party would get started from the outset when I discovered that five of us wedding attendees were all booked on the same Sea-Tac flight down.

There was Marge and me; my Microsoftie son Todd; the woman known in White Salmon WA as respected school administrator Ms. Susan Lovrin but always baby sister Susie to her family; and sister-of-the-groom Laura, temporarily escaping from her full-time duties as a stay-at-home mommy and looking to recapture some of her Wazzu sorority-days mojo.

Pleasantly lunching together in front of the huge window at the airport Anthony's, it seemed momentarily ridiculous to tear ourselves away to be stuffed into a packed plane and tossed around by turbulence.

When we got to Oakland Airport, we picked up the five-passenger Toyota Camry Marge and I had reserved. But all of a sudden, Marge decided we would need a three-seater SUV, apparently in case one of our passengers wanted to lie down in the back.

Marge and I then engaged in a free and open discussion while our three passengers were comfortably seated or horribly squeezed (depending on your perspective) in the Camry's back seat.

Surprisingly or like always, (again, depending on your source) I prevailed. I think it's hardly worth mentioning that Marge ended up making two separate trips to the rehearsal dinner because of an extra person needing a ride.

We made it to the Walnut Creek Marriott, thanks to Vera. That's what we called the pleasant female voice of our car navigation system.

Vera never yelled at me when I made a wrong turn. She just calmly noted, "reconfiguring route."

Checking in to wedding headquarters at the Marriott, I could tell the good times would soon be rolling when Mark met us and invited us to a brewpub later on.

But after dinner in the hotel, the effects of compressing the workweek so I could take a few days off and the strain of modern air travel sent me to our room instead of the pub. Besides Marge and I had to return to Oakland early in the morning to pick up my son Brian and daughter-in-law Gwen, who were flying in from Los Angeles.

Todd headed for the pub. Laura ate dinner with us old folks and then went to the pub.

Late the next morning, we all gathered in the hall of the Marriott's Mathison wing.

Jon, the older brother of the groom, had arrived early but nobody had seen him.

"I wonder where Jon is," I said.

Just then, Jon popped his head out. He had the room next door to us and directly across the hall from Todd.

Newly divorced with a newly shaved head and a new red rental car sporting Nevada plates, Jon is the closest the Mathisons can come to a Vince Vaughn character in our wedding weekend movie. More about Jon later.

We checked out Mark and Sara's new house in the afternoon. It was great with a Redwood tree in the yard and a pizza oven out back, built by the previous homeowner who ran a restaurant. Even though Mark and Sara picked it up as a foreclosure, it still came with a ridiculous California price.

After the open house, we did our only touristy thing during our entire four-day Bay Area trip.

We drove to the top of Mt Diablo on a long, carsickness-inducing road. The brochures promised us we'd see Yosemite. We didn't but the view was still spectacular.

I suppose the events surrounding the rehearsal dinner were the closest I came all weekend to achieving what I had seen in the movies. As I recall, there was the pre-game party in the Marriott bar, the dinner itself and post-game analysis back in the bar.

But once again, I ended up retiring early, leaving the night in the more experienced hands of the younger set. I guess what happens in Walnut Creek stays in Walnut Creek.

I woke up the next morning after the evening of attempted debauchery and, much to my surprise, a wedding broke out.

The main event in the Brazilian Room at Berkeley's Tilden Park was dignified and lovely. Everything was proceeding along nicely when best-man Jon leaned over to the groom and whispered something.

He had forgotten the ring!

After a brief time-out, the ring was found and the ceremony completed.

Mark wisely made sure there was no kneeling involved as part of the ceremony. Many years earlier at Jon's wedding, the groom kneeled down in front of the congregation showing the underside of one shoe with the word, "Oh" written on it and the other shoe proclaiming, "No!" Best-man Mark was discovered to be the perpetrator.

But this time, I was so grateful for a dignified wedding. After all, I had been up partying until 9:30 the previous night!

After the ceremony, I went back to the Marriott and read the Sunday paper in bed-that's more my speed during a wild wedding weekend.