April 23rd, 2002

JOY

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.

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    good good
JOY

What A Wedding, Part II

On with the wedding.

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.

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