While I anticipated a fun weekend, a last hurrah for me and my five college roommates before the world absorbed us, I had no idea that it would become one of the most memorable experiences of my existence. One of those rare slices of life which really makes you feel alive. So buckle down kiddies, it's share time!

(For the record, that was a sarcastic exclamation point. I hate writing journal entry columns, but like showering, it occasionally becomes necessary.)

The adventure began Wednesday, June 29. Like most days, the morning started way too early and was full of "To Do" items that should easily have been completed hours beforehand.

After hastily throwing together my luggage and attempting a quick clean of the apartment, I took off for work.

Hours later, as I headed for Albany airport, I briefly considered filling my gas tank before leaving. It was getting close to "E," but I eventually ruled it out because I was too lazy. Also, I had a plane to catch.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

"Mr. Campbell, all flights to Dulles are cancelled for tonight. We have you confirmed for a 6:30 a.m. flight to Dulles. That's the best we can do," said the friendly flight receptionist.

Great. Although there was zero risk of missing the wedding, this did mean I would miss the bachelor party. Which, from what I heard, consisted of bowling, dinner and an earnest discussion about the commitments of marriage. Ahem, moving on.

Thankfully, I had a few friends living in nearby Troy, so I hadn't driven to Albany for nothing. I tracked one down at Crossgates Mall where he worked and then amazingly ran into my best friend Tom from high school, who was randomly at the mall after leaving a summer class early.

"This changes everything," he said. And how it did.

I won't get into all the details, but it was probably a similar night to the one going on in Florida at the bachelor party: good, clean fun and thoughtful conversation.

I barely managed to wake up at 3:45 a.m. to get to the airport and was running on my second night with less than four hours of sleep. By that point, I was running on fumes.

Two hazy, sleepless flights later, I was in Tampa, hopping into a van my roommates had rented. Within 30 minutes, we were on the beach, enjoying the sun and the delectable aroma of the red tide.

Somehow I managed not to get burned too badly, although all of us had a bright red patch on our lower backs, just above our butts. Even after living together for three years, our camaraderie had its limits, and touching man-butt was it.

We spent the rest of the day just hanging around, running errands and rehashing our experiences from the night before. Who knew a PG-rated bachelor party could be so much fun to hear about? Or so expensive?

That night, we actually slept in. Friday was the rehearsal dinner and Saturday the wedding, so sleep was in short supply. And after the last two days, all of us needed a few extra Z's.

The next day was spent taking care of loose ends; picking up the groom's family at the airport, picking up seat covers for the wedding reception and picking up our tuxedos. Our black tuxedos with pink vests and pink ties. Oh boy.

That night we ran through the rehearsal and had the rehearsal dinner. I was relieved to learn that as a basic groomsman, I didn't have to do anything except stand still and look drop dead sexy in pink.

This left me very few opportunities to ruin the wedding, something all of us were worried about. Tact and propriety are not exactly my strong suits after all.

After a fantastic dinner and easy rehearsal, it was time for the big day: July 2, 2005, the day that Team Bramley (our dorm was Bramley Hall) would lose one of its own to the dark side. Oops, I meant to say the best day of Graig's (the groom's name) life. Really, I did.

But before this could happen, we were subjected to a journey into the deepest pits of hell. By that, I could only mean that we played nine holes of golf.

I could spend an entire column relating my hatred for this abomination (and I probably will), but for now, suffice to say I quit playing after three holes. I'm not usually a quitter, but I was averaging 20 swings per hole and was already 5 over par for the entire course.

Then it was time for the biggest moment in Graig's life. I'm not a fan of ornate ceremonies, but even I have to admit the wedding was beautiful. Serious, but with light moments, short and full of action, it really was a pleasant experience.

Of course the true action was at the reception afterward, which featured lots of alcohol, an inflatable doll and a 12-year-old putting the garter belt on the very attractive woman who caught the bouquet. A lot like college actually.

The night lasted long into the a.m., with a couple of us catching roughly 45 minutes of sleep before we had to head for the airport at 7 a.m. Exhausting, but well worth it.

Naturally, I had scheduled an evening flight, so I ended up airport surfing for the entire day. This was mostly uneventful, except for a situation at my gate involving an apparent custody battle, two women shouting and a little girl crying. Heartbreaking to be honest, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

I'd like to say the night ended without incident after that, but as is prone to happen, the excitement didn't end until I was safe in bed. To briefly summarize, I almost got bumped from my flight from Washington D.C. to Albany and almost spent the night in my car with an empty tank of gas.

Exhausted, nearly dead and very much looking forward to work in the morning, I finally crashed into my bed at 2 a.m. The weekend was over, but the memories will last forever.

(Uh oh, a sentimental ending. Guess that pink went to my head.)