Cocktails were drank, mingles were mingled, and ridiculous pictures were taken on Cristen’s digital camera. Keith and Carla may very well be the cutest newlyweds in history. And, unlike many brides and grooms, they let their hair down and partied at their own party: danced, drank, hung out, and smooched on the dance floor.
Carla had admitted to me at the surprise engagement party that her worst fear was to fall out of the chair. And in her omnipotence, it happened. I couldn't believe it. But the trooper that she is, she got right back on. After everyone took a ride, the throwing of the accessories took place, and chance also stepped in when the catchers of both the garter and the bouquet were under the age of ten, so either none of us in attendance will be getting married for the next thirty years or Alabama's going to have a new statistic.
I, in true form, drank red wine all night. Red wine makes me the most fun, giggly, cheerleader of a drunk--I was lucky that my dress stayed on all night. At one point, I was up at the bar getting another glass and I sez to the bartender, I sez, "You know, you'd make my life a whole lot easier if you just gave me that carafe." And believe it or not, he did.
I also, and have witnesses to back me up, am the Queen of the Electric Slide. I have said time and again that I refuse to dance at clubs, but at weddings, dammit, I'm a freak.
At some point, the wedding reception gets hazy. But it had a definite end. The music stopped, people started gathering in the center of the room kissing each other's cheeks. We headed outside and called the dreaded cab company again, seeing no taxis in sight. I got through, but was somewhat concerned that they'd never get there, seeing as their track record on finding the place was bad so far. A group of drunks fell out of the next building over and informed us that we were on the wrong corner to pick up a cab. We went where they instructed, and sure enough, taxis in seconds.
I got into a vehement discussion with the driver about the Israel/Palestine situation, who turned out to be a strong arguer for a confessed Frenchman. He also, unlike the first driver, knew exactly where he was going, and got us there for about eight bucks--what I ended up paying the first guy.
Andy had noticed earlier in the day that there was a sign in the hotel lobby that said a local liquor store delivered until 2am. We got back to the hotel and I went downstairs to call the number, and asked the Security Guard and the other guy who was down there if the number was legit, if they actually would deliver. They said they wouldn't deliver at that hour—12:45. So the 2am rumor was false. I collected Andy and Ian and walked to the gas station next door to try and buy beer. He told me gas stations in Maryland didn't sell beer, that liquor stores close at one, and you could buy beer to go from a bar. Seeing as it was now like 12:57, I figured we were fucked.
Andy pipes up, "let's get in my car and try to find a liquor store" so off we go. We nearly get lost when we come upon a bar. I go in and ask the bartender if he'd sell beer to go. "Yeah...if you’re willing to pay for it."
So I assume we're in for at least a $50 a screw job. But he offers 24 Miller Lites to us for $28, and I'm sold. He boxes a bunch of cans for us and we're back to the hotel.
In the hotel parking lot, Andy says, "you know, there will be a lot of people waiting for us when we get back. Maybe we should get another case." So it was back to the bar for another case.
We return to the room with two cases of beer to find Cristen sleeping. Dave and Mickey had gone off to look for us, others had gone to a bar, and still others decided to "take a nap" before the second wave of partying began. With a few phone calls, Dave and Mick returned, and some of the nappers and bar-goers came up to our room.
The rest is patchier than the end of the wedding. I remember being outside and smoking a cigarette, Ian ordering pizzas, the pizzas coming, and laying down to pass out feeling like the bed was being shaken from the end. I woke up to find about half of one of the cases still lying in the bathtub, an empty can in the closet, and an entire pizza still untouched.
We were awaken by a worried call from Katie, who I had called the night before asking where she was, and apparently, I left the phone on for about 10 minutes after. She got a message of screaming and laughing and incomprehensible chatter. We went downstairs to partake in the "continental breakfast", checked out, and got the hell out of Dodge.
It was the most fun wedding I’ve been to.