Thursday, August 14 - 9.30am

IT'S the day before the wedding of the century. An American Wedding. I've landed in the beautiful city of Charleston, South Carolina, to see my old friend Nick 'Nicey' Machin and his bride-to-be Sufia Shabani tie the knot. I've checked into the Francis Marion hotel in downtown, a wonderful old establishment that drips southern elegance. But more of that later.

Let's meet the happy couple. Nick and Sufia first met when Major Machin headed off on a tour of world domination in a rickety old bus after taking a sabbatical from the glorious Western Mail and Echo in downtown Cardiff. With a group of like-minded fools, including his trusty sidekick Lieutenant 'Smashy' Freeman, they gave up on all the things most coveted by the rest of us mere mortals - like hygiene and toothpaste -to take their own brand of repartee and humour to places as far-flung as Russia and Mongolia. Little did the Major know at that time he was destined to meet the love of his life, having spent months on buses, trains and boats to eventually find his way to America. There, in Boston on July 4, 2010, the Major was ambushed by the wonderful Sufia, and life would never be the same again...

 When I first got the invite it was a case of looking at the bank balance, scratching my head, crying, shaking the computer a bit to see if anything else would drop out and then crying again. It just wouldn't be feasible in the current climate for myself, my wife Liz and our lovely 4-year-old Livvy to afford the trip. Fortunately, Liz 'volunteered' to stay at home, leaving me to make the arrangements. I couldn't stay away too long with it being Liz's birthday on August 19 so I arranged to fly out on Wednesday and back on Sunday. When I got the itinerary I realised it probably wasn't my brightest idea - 14 hours travel in both directions with only a short break in between to relax and enjoy the wedding.

Things didn't start well either. First the computer said no when I tried to check-in. Apparently a seat was blocked. I asked why. "They just block them sometimes," I was told. It took another 30 minutes or so until it was 'unblocked' - the two people responsible for 'unblocking' having taken their phone off the hook. We knew that was what they had done, we could see them across the airport concourse! Finally booked onto the flight, I got to security to find my ticket wouldn't scan. I got some funny looks which became even funnier looks when I went through the X ray machine and beeped having removed everything bar a rib. I felt like one of those blokes in the film The Final Destination, that I was not supposed to be on the flight. I still don't know what was causing the problem, but eventually I was let through to sit with other disgruntled passengers while the boarding gate number failed to come up. We waited... and waited... and waited. It was a bit like the X-Factor wondering if you were going to get through to the next round, but finally it happened. Philadelphia, Gate 26.

Taking off three quarters of an hour late, at least it was a trouble-free flight and after touching down in Philly there was another four hour wait for my connection, time I spent wisely trying to get my mobile phone to adapt to its 'new' US sim card. At one stage my mobile rescue app kicked in and locked me out of my own phone, informing me that someone in America had stolen it. Doh! Still, squeezing onto the Charleston flight at around 7pm American time, an hour and a half later I touched down in the balmy heat of the south. A quick taxi ride to the hotel and I had arrived.

The first person I saw was my old mate, The Wonderful Withers formerly of WoS, sitting by the front door looking suitably grumpy. "What's wrong with you?" I asked. "Left my bag in a taxi and I've been waiting two hours for the driver to bring it back." And so it begins...