The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight (maeincarnate) wrote,
The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight

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What A Wedding, Part I

I woke up signifigantly less sniffly this morning, and I was early to work, even though I was thwarted by the apartment shuttle driver, who whenever I wait to take the shuttle, sits in the driveway for upwards of 15 minutes before departing; this morning, like every morning that I choose to take the regular bus instead, he left for the Metro immediately upon pulling in, cruising past me as I stood waiting for the bus. But having a chance to ogle the dreamy Ray D'Alessio and the free sample pack of Listerine Pocket Packs I was handed have turned my mood a full 180. Therefore, may I present the Weekend in Review.

I would like to be the first to introduce the new Mrs. Rock God to the livejournal community.

The wedding began, as far as I'm concerned, at 4:00 on Saturday afternoon when Dave and Cristen arrived to pick up Mickey and me to head up to Ballimore for the wedding. We were all staying at the Quality Inn at the Stadiums, which according to Yahoo was the closest non-super-ritzy hotel to the reception hall. An hour or so later, after a few twists and turns around PSINet Stadium, we see our dingy gray "hotel" on the left side of a road that we, of course, could not turn left on. And, of course, we cannot turn right at the next intersection. So we try to find our way to another intersection that will allow some sort of turn, but find ourselves heading on a relatively large highway heading back to Washington. Quick turns into small residential neighborhoods full of one lane roads and streets full of children who stopped playing to stare at us jaws-agape and more and more uninformative streetsigns crisscrossed us over the same set of train tracks about twenty times. Due to nothing short of luck and a vague idea of where we were in relation to the hotel, we finally found it and were happened to be on a turnable side of the road. Thank you again, Maryland.

Everyone happened to arrive at the hotel at right around the same time, and after checking-in, we headed up to our rooms for some unwind time, chitchat, and of course, Brass Monkey. I called the front desk to have them call some cabs for us, but I was told that he was "too busy" and was given the cab company number. There were twelve of us, so I told the dispacher we'd need three cabs. When we all met in the lobby to wait for the cabs, one cab came who didn't seem to know that three were ordered. He very politely offered to stay and wait with us until the other cabs came, and even though three from the initial company never did arrive, two and a different one came. The other two cabbies confidently said they knew where the reception hall was, so I got into our cab.

I told the driver the name of the hall and the cross streets. He said he was not familiar with the hall, but knew that intersection, so off we went.

Yahoo said the hall was 2.2 miles from the hotel. When the fare started reaching $9.75, I looked at the directions that came in the invitation and saw the names of about three streets we had already passed. At one stoplight, I noticed the cabbie leaning forward and looking back and forth at the streetsigns. I piped up, "it says here we were supposed to turn on Chase."

"Oh--" he stammers, "hey, lemme see that," asking for the direction sheet. He hos and hums over it for a second, rubs his chin and says, "oh, haha, we were supposed to turn back blocks ago."

So off he goes trying to make block turns back to where we're supposed to be, stopping at every yellow light and letting anyone in in front of us that he can. The meter tick tick ticks. He turns to me and says, "do you think there will be a lot of people standing out front?"

"Why," I ask, "you said you know where the intersection is. What does that matter"

"Well, I figure that will help us find it"

"So, do you really know where this intersection is like you told me you did or have you just been looking for a crowd of people?"

"haha--just looking for a crowd of people."

If my patientence had been lost about 10 minutes prior to this, it was completely out the window. I shot him the dirtiest look in my vast collection of dirty looks. We had left at 6:55 for a 2 mile drive to a 7:30 wedding and it was looking like we were going to be late. Somehow, magically, we see Rob's cab ahead of us and I tell the driver to just stop. The meter says $12.75. I look at him; he's looking at me nervously.

"You got lost at about nine bucks. Let's just call it that."

"Oh...uh...okay" he says, I hand him a twenty and he pulls out his wad. Slowly he peels off a dollar bill, looks at me tenuously, and counts out the one, "and now a ten" I interrupt, only to notice that there was an extra bill stuck to the first one. He hands me a ten and out we go. So it only cost us eight bucks.

I decompress just in time for the ceremony to begin. Aah, the wonders of Jewish weddings. I'll take it over one of those marathon Catholic stand-up-sit-down-stand-up-sit-down ordeals any day. 15-minutes of uplifting speeches about not only being husband and wife, but being best friends, being there for each other in hard times and success, a broken glass and a nice cheer. The waterworks turned on when I thought about how Keith and Carla are going to be together when they're seventy and going on vacation tours together and loving every minute of hanging out and being old. But fortunately the cocktail hour started very soon after and I didn't mushily weep for too long.

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