28 february 2000 |
[notes taken during (one of) my best friend's wedding.]
7:02 pm, friday.
7:02 pm, friday.
at my apartment i discover i have an extra pair of taupe nylons left over from katy's wedding in july.
note: return two ugly pairs, for $12.
don't forget to:
still need (can get from mom):
brush teeth. put on PJs. slip into bed. hope i wake up on time.
"can't we just wear chapstick?" i ask, half-kidding.
forget to drink:
start to panic, because we're running late. get to bride's house, dress up hurriedly, rush outside, hope we don't forget anything. we maneuver ourselves into the limo. i realize not only are limos not terribly comfortable, but there's this aura of chester molester about the place that makes me nauseated.
"i have to pee," says the bride. she's not kidding.
we get to the church and are immediately led to the side courtyard. i scuff my shoes on the concrete, remembering the wedding coordinator say two nights before that the tile floor is very slippery. i am prone to falls.
too many photos taken of us:
i walk down aisle. smile a lot. hold her flowers. fix her train. and then, of course, at one point, i almost slip, but somehow maintain my balance. i pretend nobody notices, although i'm sure everyone is holding their breath in those two seconds, begging the angels and saints not to let me fall and make a scene.
later i am told i was very poised, and i know she's just saying that to make me feel better.
when melissa and binh exchange their vows, they both are on the verge of tears.
note: i want to marry a boy who will cry at our wedding.
after the ceremony, i am stuffed into somebody else's car and taken to the reception. i am starved.
the reception is a blur. i lose track of time. also, my watch doesn't work; i'm just wearing it to hide my watch tan.
i give a toast. the best man blows everyone away with his eloquence and sentimentality that by the time he hands me the microphone my train of thought is completely derailed. i ramble on about high school and our friendship and my wishes for a happy life, nothing original, noting clever; i'm not even sure it was coherent. and then i pause. and they're all looking at me. and i say, "um. cheers?" they laugh and clank glasses, and i am relieved.
i dodge the bouquet, as usual, and miss it, thank god.
we dance. i do the conga line, i do the YMCA, and i dance to "my girl" with my father. when "brown-eyed girl" comes on, i squeal and drag him back out to the dance floor. he is my dance partner. i have no date.
note: do not play the chicken dance song at wedding.
the reception is lovely. the restaurant is atop a hill, with an amazing view of the city below. outside, the sun is shining. inside, the bride and groom are shining. the centerpieces are pink roses with baby's breath in a round fishbowl vase. my mom takes one home.
the party is over by 4. my body is convinced it's past midnight. i get home at 6, take a hot shower, slip into comfy clothes and then sit in the corner, staring at the white page of a notebook to reflect on the day.
11 days until sxsw, and counting.