When I arrived I let myself into the building and looked around. No one was there except the bartender and someone else who was clearly an employee. I approached the bartender and tried to ask where to go.
ME: Is the...Do I....Where do I sit for the cere....Where is the wedding?
BARTENDER: Outside. Through that door.
Could I be more awkward? I'm honestly surprised he didn't just pour me a glass of wine right then. It was clear my social skills were not firing on all cylinders. I went outside and quickly realized that my fears of not knowing anyone were fairly true. I spotted a friend of the bride's I had met once and promptly latched on to her and her husband. Hello friends. I am now part of your relationship for the night. Tell me things.
The ceremony itself was the fastest I have ever seen. It was even done in two languages, and was still finished in just under 20 minutes. Amazingly wonderful. Let this be a lesson to all the brides and grooms of the world- we do not care about hearing the passages from the bible, or poems, or whatever other sappy sources of love declaration you have come up with. We just want to get to the drinking, dancing, and watching your black sheep family members embarrass the rest of the you.
Cocktail hour began and to compensate for the lack of connections to other guests I consumed 6 glasses of wine in an hour.
Bad Decision: Not following the 2 drinks per hour rule. (Or is that 1 drink? Bad sign that I don't know?)
Better Bad Decision: Choosing an open bar situation to break this rule.
After I drank my Crate & Barrel gift card's worth of free wine, the bride's mom (or was it the bride? It's all a little hazy) approached me and my one friend and expressed concern that no one was dancing. Let me tell you, when you're on your 8th glass of wine, you don't care if no one is dancing. As soon as someone says the word dance, that's what you want to do. So I grabbed my friend and went to dance. Within 2 minutes, literally 75% of the guests were on the dance floor going nuts. There was a circle of clapping that people kept pulling each other into to show off moves, there was a conga line, there was even a break dancing attempt. At one point my friend and I looked at each other and were like, "We did this. This started because of us." Oh, the power of two girls dancing in dresses.
And then it happened. The inevitable bouquet toss.
Everyone huddled together, giggling, ready to catch that bunch of flowers and have their dreams come true. They clearly were all assuming Prince Charming was waiting outside on his horse. While everyone else was vying for the best spot up front, I was selecting the ideal spot in the back where I would appear to be involved but not really have a chance. Just as the bride was about to throw it, I realized how close the entire group was to her. Dear god. She's going to overthrow the group. The bouquet became airborne, soared over the heads and hands of everyone else and came directly towards me. I had to make a choice:
Option A) Reach up and grab the damn thing, which I assumed would burn when I touched it.
Option B) Let it fall to the floor.
While option B was very tempting, I thought maybe that might be a bad omen or something for the bride, so I valiantly reached up, grabbed it, and took one for the team.
Clearly I want that thing as far from me as possible.
But this was not the end. I now had to participate in another wedding ritual (I mean, really, how many do we need?). I took my place center stage on a chair, hammed it up for the crowd, and threw my little leg out there for some Hispanic gentleman to slide the garter onto.
Still clutching my flowers apparently...
Then there were some fairly awkward photographs taken, and before he walked away, the garter man leaned down and whispered in my ear, "My girlfriend is going to KILL me." Poor guy. If he only knew that the more likely scenario of someone killing someone else over me was the reverse of that.
As expected, I was one of the last people dancing, and one of the first people to jump on board for an after party in the city. We shot over to Cambridge and ended up at some dive-y bar where I spent at least 2 hours dancing with old guys who spun me around every 5 minutes or so. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a blast. It's always refreshing to dance with people who aren't trying to hump you mid-dance and are actually dancing. Another different aspect of this bar was that every time the 60 year old bartenders would walk past me and my friend at the bar, they would place a little chocolate candy down in front of us.
Sweet? Or Creepy?
You decide.
Between the free wine and the friendly chocolate bearing bartenders, I was in a special place by the end of the night. And sadly there were a few fatalities of the evening.
1) My license (Later to be found in the dryer. Don't ask.)
2) The red flower pin on my dress. ...Although the shell of the pin remained.
I'll assume the flower flew off during one of my graceful spins on the dance floor. ....Or when I tripped and fell on something. Which was probably also graceful in it's own way.
Life Lesson: Catching the bouquet doesn't mean you are the next to get married. It means you're the only lesbian in the crowd, and hence the only one who can actually catch.
Go stereotypes, go!
-LSLP, Ash.
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