Monday, May 24, 2010

The Situation at Braum's



















The next morning, we woke up early, packed everything but the backyard into the Cadillac. 'Everything' included a bird, wedding gifts, dirty clothes, and childhood Christmas ornaments. We started off on our eight hour voyage south to start our new lives together as Mr. & Mrs. I was dressed to kill in Nike running shorts and a white v-neck. It was a turbulent ride seeing as either one of us had to request a pit stop every thirty minutes. This turned out to be very interesting when having a live pet in the backseat. Several times I just cracked the window and said 'sorry little friend,' but even she didn't seem to have regular bowels.

We had a healthy lunch at Subway (Eat Fresh) and cruised down the highway. I was desperate for ice cream again and we searched for over an hour for a Braums (this is insane for anyone who knows just how many Braums there really are down I-35). I finally spot that pink and blue beacon of truth and we exit just in time.

While standing in line to select a flavor, I took a breath. Seriously, that's all I can say for what I did (besides think about flavors). In one fell swoop, that breath caused some bizarre domino effect that left my drawers soiled in an instant. No way, I thought to myself. That thought quickly dissipated when the warm truth kicked me in the pants. I look over at my new husband in line and I report that I have just 'had an accident.' Bryan, stable and non-reactive in many ways, asks first if I need to change my clothes. What a natural thing to ask. Not, 'are you joking?' or 'you weirdo.' I look back up at him nonchalantly and answer 'yes.' But first, I let him know I would still like to select a flavor. Now he is in disbelief. He says if he ever doubted my love of ice cream, he will not anymore.

I waddle to the car, ravage through my trunk for anything resembling a change of garments, and I head inside to use the facilities. I have to clean myself for a while from my un-American experience and I come out in spandex (the only thing I can find). I am worried that this could happen again, seeing as I have no idea how it happened the first time. Spandex would most certainly be worse, as I've never been more grateful for those elastic inserts in athletic shorts.

When we got to Texas, Bryan went around to the trunk to begin unloading the car. I shrieked at him to let me get to it first. I had, after all, stashed my dirty clothes in the rear. When I went back there, I was very grateful I did not choose to put them in the backseat.

The Mexican stomachache has followed me to this day (that's right, three weeks and counting). And though I have not had another 'incident,' It may be a long time before I revisit that nation.

Mercy. And this concludes my honeymoon!

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Montezuma's Revenge
























On our honeymoon, we ate a lot. We ate virtually anything and everything they served us, which we quickly realized was on the liberal end of 'ethnic.' There was French, Moroccan, Japanese, Mexican, and Caribbean food, just to name a few.

What occurred to us as a result of this was what is known as 'Montezuma's Revenge.' After a particularly enjoyable meal at a place called 'La Fondue,' Bryan and I both began to feel a rumble. My rumble started in the middle of our meal and I excused myself. It followed us everywhere, and this is something you most certainly cannot deal with the way you do when you have to go potty in the pool. It followed us to bed, to the beach, and to our romantic night in Playa del Carmen, where Bryan had to chance the unfamiliar restrooms not at the resort.

When we left the resort to (finally) return home, we sat and ate a very large meal in the airport from (what we thought) was the all-American Johnny Rockets. Hmm. Our flight leaving Cancun was on time, which seemed a miracle after an escapade such as this. My father once told me the rudest thing you can do is fart on an airplane. Unfortunately, I wasn't well enough to make those kind of moral decisions.

When we landed in DFW, we went through customs and knew we had a narrow window to make our connection to Kansas City. Of all people, we were pulled aside to be searched by U.S. Homeland Security. This search took 22 minutes and involved scouring our bags and going through absolutely everything. Let me tell you, if you ever have to pick a time to have your luggage raided, post-honeymoon would certainly not be it. As he unzipped my tightly-packed hot pink baggage, an item became projectile. A feathery accessory given to me by girlfriends smacked it's leather-plated side on the airport ground. I grabbed my knees, turned around, and laughed to tears, leaving Bryan standing there with no explanation. The African American security officer raised his eyebrows at me and then acknowledged that it was my honeymoon, after all. He proceeded to go through the laundry. We missed our flight.

Walking away towards our departing gate, where we would be hanging out for another four hours. I hear a pounding crack. The prized hand-painted plate from Playa was in Bryan's possession, wrapped in newspaper, and was the object of my affection from the trip. It was now shattered on the floor by accident. I bawl. I sit outside the restroom, where I keep going in and out so often I no longer tell my mom/friend I will call them back, I just keep talking.

We arrive in Kansas at 11:30 pm and I make a pit stop in the bathroom. I happen to be in pain when the lady next to me decides she is sick to her stomach. I am trapped; I cannot go anywhere. Ugh. She must have also been arriving from Mexico?

Best Captions Ever





































Look hard at this photo I took on our honeymoon. I will give you a hint: she is from Europe. See below for proposed captions....

"El Dorado Royale: Don't feed the animals"
"El Dorado Royale: Where the drinks are strong"
"El Dorado Royale: Leave your worries behind"
"El Dorado Royale: If you forget something, you can find (almost) anything at the gift shop"
"El Dorado Royale: A scenic paradise much like the Appalachians"
"El Dorado Royale: We provide aloe vera for those closest to you"
"El Dorado Royale: You won't know which way is up or down"
"El Dorado Royale: Where gravity and tequila meet"
"El Dorado Royale: No underwires allowed"
"El Dorado Royale: A test for the new husband"

A Rough Start


What happens next is a 24 trip to maniacal hades (also known as our attempted voyage to Mexico).

We showed up at the airport about two hours before takeoff, one of us half-bathed, the other with a nappy ponytail. We see that we are sharing our flight (connection through DFW) with a large group of wedding guests who are very eager to chat with us--something we were certainly looking forward to doing on our honeymoon. It doesn't take long to discover there's a delay- and then another. When the last delay is posted because the plane experienced a mechanical failure, it becomes very clear that we will not be making our connecting flight to Cancun. I am very angry and begin calling the travel agents/sister companies/whoever can possibly help us. A handful of friends and family were on the flight that had originally been departing after us, but ended up leaving before us due to our delays. They offered up their seats but AA refused to help us out (I'm remembering a previous post I wrote about my readiness to become unnerved by AA). So we literally watched our only shot at making it take off.

When we do finally leave for DFW three hours after the scheduled time, I can't help but acknowledge the irony. We are 'stuck' in Dallas for an evening while they try to get us out the next day. We are also about 45 minutes away from my apartment. One set of wedding guests on the plane live close to the airport, and decided it wouldn't be right for us to go all the way back just to turn back around in the am. They insist we stay with them and we are too weary to brainstorm other more (honeymoon appropriate) options. But first, we have to collect our baggage. No big deal, right? Mine is hot pink faux-suede, and the least they could do is get me my luggage for the night. Four and a half hours. Four and a half hours later of running downstairs, then upstairs, then 'so-and-so will help you', then 'I submitted a claim for them,' then 'We can't find them,' then 'we found them,' then 'now they've lost them off-site,' and then 'just wait,' and I had had it. I bawled like Lucille Ball at the front desk and didn't care who saw. This was a nightmare. They chastised me for not carrying my medicine and necessary items with me on the plane. I chastised back. This was my one and only wedding/honeymoon--should I apologize to you, really, for forgetting to pack a 7th bag of junk? And yes, I most certainly did need my medicine now more than ever.

At this point, we were forced to wait until they located the bags because they had misplaced them somewhere after initially finding them. I knew I couldn't leave on an International flight without a bag, so we stuck it out. At approximately 9:30 pm, we took a cab to our guests' home, where they had barbeque waiting for us. We stayed in the 'Presidential suite/wing' of the home that was simply breathtaking...but not enough to distract us from the hilarity of the situation. We showed up the next day for our flight, I left my phone in the back of our guests car, and our flight was delayed two hours, but the bottom line is that we made it to Mexico.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

It's Like Rain on Your Wedding Day


Alanis Morissette said it best.

We left our reception in a vintage Bentley while it continued to pour. Our photographer had us pull off to the side to take about thirty more minutes of pictures in the rain, but at this point- we were game for anything. When we were finally done with all of our obligations, we drove away to begin our happy ever after.

Happy ever after started with a dire bathroom situation from not being able to escape our guests (or my Spanx) at the nearest gas station, where I ran in with my dress and all and used their facilities. I wondered how often gas station attendants saw things like this?

About twenty minutes later, we arrive at our honeymoon night destination. I have selected this destination from a vast array of resources online claiming to have the best honeymoon accommodations. I've never been to a bed and breakfast and decided that this night would be a perfect time to get away from the predictable hotel scene. I guess I should have done my research about bed and breakfasts, but I wasn't really aware how communal they are. We were sharing this 'inn' (literally on the pamphlet) with about 10 other couples and were instructed to tip-toe up the stairs to our room since we came so late and everyone else was asleep. You can see this story unraveling quickly... We get into the room and I discover that I am without purse. omg. I do not have my cellular device, wallet, chap-stick, or any of the other necessary things I have crammed in there over the course of the week. I don't exactly feel that it's right to start making phone calls to locate it at this exact moment, and I just try to chill out. We stuff our faces with all of our wedding food and cake that we've been sent away with from the evening. The next morning, Bryan announces that he's going to take a shower, I laugh my bottom off. There is no shower, only a bath. He is in there for about 20 minutes drawing a bath. Meanwhile, I have to call my mother to find out that the vintage car company accidentally took my purse. We skipped the group breakfast in lieu of swinging by our own pancake breakfast. Our cabbie on the way over told us that if he had been a guest, he would've gotten us something we'd never use, such as a hot dog maker. I notice he's never been married.

I tell Bryan I just can't wait for our honeymoon.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

24 Wedding Hours







































While trying to distract myself from the incidents listed on my previous post, the show had to go on. So on Friday (the day before the ceremony), I decided to get up early and take a local yoga class, which turned out to be much like the longest journey I've ever taken to touch my toes, all hairdo's and potential sweat still intact. I get to the church rehearsal, where an elderly couple is running the show and we discover that their lapel microphones make it easier to hear them from inside the church instead of the sanctuary, where we are standing. My friends are instructed to walk down the aisle and bow in front of the alter, which is something we're not used to doing at a wedding- anyone? One girl walks down and is chastised for 'over-bowing.' The next is Jewish and isn't having it. This is hysterical. I seriously have the United Colors of Benetton in my bridal party.

We finish up the routine that no one really remembers for the next evening and head off to the rehearsal dinner. My father's toast resembles a small roasting and includes a few incidences from my past in regards to driving, a solitary butt-judging contest, and the like. My uncle opens his bachelor-pad styled home up for every guy in the room, including Cuban cigars, a heated pool, an indoor movie-theater, and the most notable- a urinal. This led to a team of straggling men the next day (including my husband).

I wake up on the day of my wedding (literally) to meet the Videographer at my doorstep to take my last run as a single girl. And while I hadn't thought this through, I assumed it would be a shoe-tie up/running away clip. As I was huffing and puffing, there were a few drive-by's with video in hand and a few urgent drop and runs to capture about the first seven minutes of my run- and all I wanted to do was slouch. I definitely stirred up a few local ladies' morning walks.

I get back and shower in time to find out that I am no longer allowed to read the vows I spent over seven and a half hours working on, with little to no explanation behind it. In conjunction with all the other stresses of the week, I finally snap and bawl...forgetting that all my bridesmaids and Videographer were arriving at the same time.

I have to jet over to the mall to get my makeup done for 'prom.' With 9 proms in the area on the exact same day (which limited my venue selection months prior), I was the oldest girl getting my makeup done. I kept exclaiming things like 'I am so glad I asked Bobby!' etc...and my pregnant sidekick worked wonderfully for our Videographers filming of 'Sixteen & Pregnant.' She refused to comply with my begging her to try and find a prom dress upstairs with her 'situation.'

It pours all day long.

The lady at the church keeps wondering when I'm going to get dressed--it's already after six pm. Five people show up for my pre-wedding prayer, which was at one point a pivotal event. I force myself into my dress at 6:21 pm and sneak around to the front of the church under an umbrella so that the lady will not see me. She doesn't and I get away bare-shouldered! Luke 'toots his horn' for Trumpet Voluntary, and I walk in. I see my groom and I've never been more excited in my life--and then he takes a step backwards. Something in the magical moment literally moved him- one step backwards. It's fine, he didn't run and neither did I, which is officially the second victory of the day.

More to come...

Friday, May 7, 2010

The week before my wedding


















Now, contrary to my previous post about all my worst fears that didn't happen...I have a serious of posts to outline what actually did happen. Throughout the course of my 11 month engagement, I experienced more camera-worthy moments than I can describe, and many that I won't ever be able to publicly. From the broken china (and later crystal), to the bare-shoulder issue, premarital counseling oddities, and people (multiple) calling to express their disapproval about not being in the wedding...I thought I'd seen it all. Turns out it wasn't over:

Wednesday (4/21): I go to get my hair cut/done. It has to be re-done. While there, I receive eight phone calls. The first? My travel agent just 'letting me know' that there has been a huge error in our honeymoon itinerary and our second flight is departing before our first arrives. No solution, just a complimentary notification. The fourth? The florist. The recent volcano just halted all peony shipments out of Holland; my bouquet and centerpieces will now be a 'surprise.' Later that day I find out my poor photographer has had a death in the family and needs new flights--now coming in on the day of the wedding. I cry.

Thursday (4/22): I have developed a large blemish on the bridge of my nose from a pair of cheap sunglasses I brought to Vegas. I decide to get a bikini wax and threw my armpits in for kicks. This was fatal (as mentioned in the last post). Let's just say as this was occurring, I kept thinking, 'I will never do this again in my entire life.' I had no idea my butt cheek muscles could twitch like that--and I have no idea why that was the area most reactive. Then later, I decided there were a few missed areas that A) never see the light of day and B) were barely reachable with my hands. A cheap razor and a side-slip resulted in bleeding from my ane for over an hour. That is something you cannot band-aid.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Top 10 Wedding Nightmares


I think it's safe to say that since my wedding is officially in the past, the nightmares I've had about my wedding day since childhood are irrelevant to my thoughts these days. But just in case you ever experience bridal bliss and need a reality check about what all can happen (at least in my fantastical mind), here it is...

The Top 10 Things I was Terrified Would Happen at/to my wedding:

1. There would be three of us. Now, I don't mean God, myself, and my husband...I literally mean three of us. What if you got engaged and suddenly were with child? Would people believe your love was real?! Again, anyone who knows me and knows that this feat was impossible (though still feel nauseated about the hot tub theory). Even still, I was so psycho I would count down the months to my wedding as months I would have been pregnant by my wedding date. Thankfully, when I was one month out, this was much less of a hazard.

2. There would be three of us. This time, I mean a full-fledged man running it at just the right time to proclaim his love to me mid-ceremony in front of all of my family and friends. This fear actually holds weight considering my bizarre history of star-crossed lovers and those that I would absolutely turn over in my grave if I saw and remembered how stupid I was for going to dinner with them. No, those songs don't make me think of you anymore, I'm sorry.

3. I would get the 24 hour flu. You try getting through a Catholic ceremony while standing in Louboutins all corseted up in Spanx and not letting one slip if you had the worst stomachache of your life. And really, is there anything you can do to prevent this?

4. I would ignite myself with the Unity Candle. Fire and Fear aren't a good mix, and I think it's fair to say that both of those factors combined during an intimate and reverent setting can lead to trouble. Nightmare #4 is why I wore my hair back.

5. I would see a random guest before processing down the aisle. This one is stupid, but it freaked me out to the core. If I had had any late-coming guests standing behind me waiting for their seats before my father walked me down the aisle, I would have punched them in the juggernaut. The last guy I wanted to see was my father, not my father's accountant.

6. I would trip and loose a chick-let. With the strapless/low-back combination, you have to get really crafty in terms of shading your chest from the rest of the congregation. I opted for siliconic and very expensive items that resembled raw chicken breasts. I just knew that my heel would catch some lace, rendez-vous with the marble floors, and my gig would be up. I hoped that at the very least this would occur at the reception site, where it would actually have been feasible for their to be food on the floor.

7. I would have taken one-risk too many. Meaning, before the most significant event in my life to date, I decided to 'experiment' way too much. And though I almost achieved this fear (a waxing of the underarms, etc led to an anthill-like armpit and a swagger that resembled a very muscular man), the grace of God let me off the hook. My eyebrows were still on, PTL.

8. I would be the fatty bride. Everyone kept saying "remember to eat on your wedding day...you'll be so nervous you'll forget!" Ya well, what if you're so hyperconscious you hyper-ingest and can't zip your dress. Some people starve when stressed, some of us stuff.

9. You would find out he had already been married (to your surprise) or had about 120k of 'secret debt.'

10. Someone would call me a skank or something that insinuated I wasn't beautiful. Since I did go bare-shouldered (probably thanks to my fathers insistence that he would 'drop-trou' if I couldn't), I was expecting a few generations back to take a jab at me. I also had fears that people would say I look 'nice' or 'wow..' or other things that mean 'ugh' in a wedding setting. What if you really didn't look and feel the most beautiful you've ever felt on your wedding day? hmmmm...