Eleven years. That's how long two of my friends dated before they got married this past Saturday evening. Eleven years spanning college, a move to New Orleans and another move to San Francisco. Whew! The wedding was gorgeous, and I enjoyed spending time with my fellow INDS/ARCH grads. My best friend was a bridesmaid and was flying in from San Antonio, so I carted her around for five days, joined by three more college friends for the weekend. The festivities were not without mishaps. Here are a few:
The Bride and the Priest got the times confused for the Rehearsal and stood each other up.
We held the Rehearsal Dinner before the Rehearsal.
Rehearsal Dinner last 3.5 hours.
Almost got run off the road by crazy New Orleans drivers.
Checked into our hotel and found two men in our hotel room.
Hotel insisted that the room that they gave us was the one we booked...with only 1 King bed.
Email verification proves us right--Thank you iPhone. Now find me 2 Doubles.
My friend is irate that we never got an apology for the mishap.
My friend complains about the cost of everything for the wedding. There is NO filter.
Got a slow leak in my tire. Must put air.
Meet up with more friends at Pat O's Piano Bar. Our group is dubbed "The Pips" by the lounge singer.
One of our group gets smashed.
Off to the hotel to rest up and get ready for rehearsal attempt #2 then party at Old-Skool Bar.
Rehearsal attempt #2 starts 30 minutes late and runs an hour overtime.
Rock-n-Sake!!!
Blast dancing at the Gold Mine. We are the 4 Old Ladies and 1 Gay Man on the dance floor. I love it!
Remember that we were "The Bitches" in college. Do NOT dance with us. We are not here for YOU.
Random Bachelorette Party arrives. I swear they were all underage.
The Old Ladies get pushed into the corner by the Kids.
The Gay stays out late and brings in a Yucky Dog for his roomie at 4am. Glad I wasn't in that room!
Wedding day arrives and I'm recruited to "do Hair" because the bridesmaid refuses to pay.
She showers, we head down to the pool for a little R&R.
The pool is directly adjacent to the courtyard, separated by a row of holly bushes.
There's a wedding reception going on in the courtyard.
Our pool time was DJed by Big Band Music.
Back up to the room to play hairdresser.
I voted for board straight with the straightening iron, half pulled up, rubber band wrapped with hair.
She voted for cascading curls, half pulled up, rubber band wrapped with hair.
Down to the wire to get the hair did.
Our Detour: Wedding Party from the courtyard "Second Line" under our window.
My turn to get ready, squeezed fat ass into Spanx.
Spanx is the Devil.
The upside: I could have bought a smaller dress.
Roommate college buddy (not in the wedding) fretting over her dress/belt.
Thirty minutes before wedding we call the valet for our car.
The slow leak: Nail. Tire Flat.
Peekaboo on the bride. Why are they still at the hotel 30 minutes before ceremony??!!??
Offer to ride to church in the limo with the bridal party.
Cab ride from French Quarter to Metairie and back: Way too much.
No good...need my vehicle to return bridal party to hotel.
Tip for the valet to put on the spare: Worth it.
Travel from hotel to church on the interstate with a bicycle tire: Scary.
Arrive at the church 20 minutes late.
Wedding is running 25 minutes late. My luck!!
The Hair: Totally fell. Should have done board straight. Yes, I told you so.
Got lost in a pitch black City Park looking for the reception hall.
Bride's parents go MIA just in time for the Father/Daughter dance.
Bride's parents show up--delay? Need for Slippers.
Reception: a BLAST!
Drive members of bridal party back to hotel.
Continue cheesy reception music with my cheesy cd collection.
Return to hotel: hide from everyone else 'cause I'm NOT going to Bourbon Street again.
Wake up to serenade by random guy on the sidewalk just under our window.
Go to PepBoys to get tire patched.
Guy tries to take advantage of three women: at 23K miles, I need 4 new tires. WTF.
No thanks, sir.
Another mini-INDS reunion over brunch while my car gets fixed.
Pick up the car and head down to Magazine Street.
Friend's hubby and baby driving up to meet us.
Walk 7 blocks before we realize how far we are from our intended destination.
No bother, time to drop off at the airport.
Our group parts ways: lil' family stays to enjoy Magazine, the Amandas head to the airport.
I miss my BFF!!
And that is how we do New Orleans.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
omg, your mishaps make my head hurt!
quick! check and make sure all your limbs are still connected. after all of that, you never know.
pshaw. that's the condensed version. i left off the part where i didn't call bf for two days, text only, 'cause my stress level was so high i would have burst into tears at the sound of his voice!
oh my. poor you.
Post a Comment