Meet the Bridal Party: Larry (Groomsman)

Eric says:
Lawrence. Fabbroni. Say that name to anyone who knows him and you’re bound to evoke a smile. Or perhaps a sly grin. Inevitably some thought of one of Larry’s exploits will come to mind. Larry is that guy who gets the party going, kicks it in the butt if it’s lagging, and locks the doors when the last person is ready to leave. But he is also so much more. At times he has been my roommate, project team member, travel buddy, and beer pong partner. I knew Larry when he first started school at Carnegie Mellon University, which is to say that I have vivid memories of him singing an original song at freshman orientation, with bleach blond hair, and performing at Follies. Later on, he graced the covers of our structures reports with the likes of the A-team and Kiss, rendered computer models until the wee hours of the morning, and eased the tension of late nights in studio by clapping along to the works of John Cougar Mellencamp. We watched Rudy make the Notre Dame football team over and over again without fail. And for a few weeks one legendary summer we studied in Rome and traveled the through Europe by train together.

In short, I attribute a great deal of my college experience to Larry. And as much as he drove us all towards good times through the rigors of higher education, he also became one of the most driven members of the professional community. Larry changed a lot during those five sleepless years. And in many ways he didn’t change at all. He has always been a true friend. Maybe you’re lucky enough to have a friend like Larry. But if not, I invite you to seek him out at the reception. Talk about design. Talk about politics. The Yankees. Life. Then take a shot with him and go get your dance on. I guarantee you will have a good time and you may just make a friend for life.

Hanging out at the University Center at Carnegie Mellon.
From the L: Michele, Larry, Jack, Margaret, and Eric
(Photograph by Nick Colello)

Larry says:
Hmmm....Eric and I....how to tell this.....what I should do is start at the beginning....but what I'm going to do is mix it all up, because really, we met in college and what happened in those days is kind of blurry (possibly due to the time Margaret punched me in the face, but that is a different story for a different time....like perhaps when I meet all her relatives...). In any case, unlike many college friends Eric and I took a bit longer to find each other despite being in the same architecture class together. This is probably due to the fact that we are both pretty full of ourselves and are skeptical of anyone else's pure awesome-ness. But we did find each other, and our friendship came to be not so long before Eric and Margaret began dating. As the story goes, I was involved in helping the famous first date happen, and I saw it all happen, the laughs, the adoring eyes, the holding hands, and -for the sake of this story - the first "more holding hands" as they lagged behind Michele and I on the walk home.

A few months later, Eric and I were rooming together in Rome, where we changed the summer for everyone when, on the first night, we discovered the New Fox Tavern (thanks to all who prompted that discovery by thinking it would be funny to lock us out of the apartment), which was the proud host of many Power Hours and late night karaoke (Eric is kind of like a young Tom Waits). Along with Margaret and a whole group of other friends we shared so many great memories that summer: Dave Matthews playing a tiny concert in the Italian countryside, dinners in Trestevere, cold showers (not together...sickos), and so much more. We traveled together after Rome on a whirlwind tour of western Europe, sleeping on trains and in hostels, learning too much about each other's body odors, and most importantly overcoming a precarious situation along the Spanish-French border in which I almost traded one of Eric's kidneys for some homemade sangria (i figured he's pretty skinny so it would be a quick procedure).

Pause #1 in my story. I just wanted to say how much I enjoy burritos. Tacos are boring....unless they are fish tacos in Cali, then they are okay.... And I always burn myself on the sizzling fajita plate, why can't they just cook the meat before they serve them....but pretty much any time you are talking to me it is a pretty safe assumption that burritos are not far from my mind.

Okay, back to my story. When we arrived back in the states, things were different between Eric and I. That's because we were now living in the same house on Beeler Street, where more memories were made. I learned there how much Eric liked Jerry Springer, and basically any type of trashy television that played in between classes; we beat the hell out of Eric's first George Foreman grill; we made Wednesday nights legendary, and we killed his Mercury Cougar.

Pause #2 in my story. I just want to caution everyone that I look totally hot in a tux. It's almost to the point where I am a like a superhero. I am telling you this now, so you can prepare yourself to pay attention to Eric and Margaret, and all the wedding shenanigans, instead of continually being distracted by my tux-studliness.

Anyway, Eric's always been one of those people I fall right back in step with, no matter how long we've been apart. I suspect he put up with many of my ridiculous jokes and insane tendencies because at times I may have been about twice his size, and volumetrically that was great friend-value for him. It might also be because of all the other great memories though: my sun poisoning in jersey and the ride back to Pittsburgh, late nights at Mad Mex, miniature games of pool in our "dining" room, our disturbing affinity for cinematic depictions of Notre Dame football, our "Little Guy in a Big Guy Suit" conspiracy theory, a forged email that should have gotten me in a whole lot of trouble, or the leftover punch from our Halloween party that almost lasted until the following summer, and dramatically reduced the capacity of our refrigerator.

From my name you might be able to tell I've got a bit of Italian blood in me, so I know a thing or two about "Family". To me being Family is more than blood or eating at a certain restaurant chain we'll call "The We've-Never-Heard-of-Fresh-Ingredients-and-We-Suck Garden". To me it is about getting to a point of complete trust, loyalty, and care. It is about people you would do anything for, and knowing they would do anything for you. Eric and Margaret are Family to me. It helps that they are a whole lot of fun too.