Is it Murphy's Law that states anything that can go wrong, will go wrong? I don't remember but that's the notion I had in mind when I was invited to participate in the Fulbright Exchange. I had just bought my own place (agreeing to be the sole resident for the first full year - that didn't happen), committed to a mortgage that made me gulp, and finally settled in when Ann came to me with the good news. Buying a place or even participating in this exchange are certainly far from "things going wrong" but I think you understand. I was about to give up my new digs to a complete stranger and continue to pay my cringe-worthy mortgage while living abroad in a country that has an exchange rate that really makes me excited to shop at home. On top of all this, my BB, Megan, announced last New Year's that she was engaged to her boyfriend Bruno and honored me by asking me to be in the wedding. So between my new homeownershipness (??) and bridesmaid obligations, it should have been a no-brainer that this would be the year of the Fulbright. And it was!
I am surviving the financial ramifications of paying my mortgage and the UK exchange rate better than could be expected. Go me! Megan's wedding was another issue and I felt awful when it became apparent I would not be able to make the Brazil wedding in January. The US reception, however, fell on my only 4 day weekend of the year and I was determined to make that trip to the states to celebrate with my dear, dear friend. So "blupity blupity' time warp and we are back to President Day's weekend and the start of my (well, Megan's) wedding journey.
The weekend prior to the wedding, most of you will remember that it snowed a whole bunch in the DC (and Northeast) area. Tuesday and Wednesday of that next week saw another foot (?) of snow. Gillian's parents were supposed to fly out to see her on Tuesday but due to two days of flight cancellations, were now leaving (hopefully) on Thursday. When I awoke at 2:30 AM on Thursday, February 11, the lovely internet informed me that my 6:10 flight was cancelled. But to do anything about it, I would still have to make the trek to the airport to check out potential solutions. Convinced I would get to the airport, immediately have to come back to Freuchie, and email Megan I could no longer be a bridesmaid, I was pleasantly surprised when I was put on another flight that only got me in 3 hours later than originally planned. (coincidentally, Wilma and Ron's flight!!).
Five hours in the Amsterdam Airport later, I was settled in to the worst flight ever. My throat started to kill when I swallowed, I think I ate something with onions (and therefore got a bad headache and nausea), my legroom was cramped with an emergency box, I had the chills, and there was a baby crying two rows in front of me for five out of the eight hours in the air. I just had a feeling things were off to a bad start.
But things started to go right...I had very little customs wait and ran into Gillian on my way outside (she was waiting for her parents). So that was nice. I was delighted to have a working cell phone as it was difficult over Christmas to function without one. Melissa, who frankly (that's a gift word for some of you) has been a lifesaver for me this entire year - I owe her a big b-day present next year, was already enroute to pick me up. The fresh air outside the airport relieved me of most of my ill flight feelings. I found my car was 90% dug out for me by Gillian and my kind neighbors. And though I would have still liked to have visited Holly and the boys, she informed me that I would have been arrested for driving in the state of Delaware due to the hazardous road conditions. So I was free to eat Firehouse sub and get to bed early on Melissa's couch. Maybe this blitzkrieg of a weekend wouldn't be that tough after all.
In a continuing trend of good luck, I went to run a million errands on Friday morning and had a small DMV miracle. My car needed an emissions test for an expired (only two weeks - come on!) registration. After a quick trip to a gas station, Melissa and I braced ourselves for camping out at the DMV. Well, I was going to camp out, she was going to go shopping. Four minutes. That's it. Four minutes. I was only in the DMV for four minutes. After waiting a minute in the line that gives you a number to wait in the real line, I was alarmed when A. I saw how packed the DMV was and B. there was no teller who even had a matching letter (much less matching number) to my ticket. In the two seconds it took for me to say to Melissa (who was halfway out the door into the mall), "I'm not sure where to sit," my number was called. As if there wasn't enough resentment towards me from the rest of the customers, I had make it worse by grinning broadly and stating with unintentional lack of tact, "That was only like 30 seconds!" It was awesome!
Back to the wedding...
After a full day of whatnots (and a movie - yay!), I headed to Sarah's where I was a guest in the Brizendine's newly finished attic bedroom. I stopped by long enough to throw on a dress and race over to Megan's parents where they were hosting the rehearsal dinner/buffet gathering-thing. I met Bruno's family for the first time as well as Megan's German relatives. It was also nice to catch up with the other bridesmaids, too. I finally called it a night around 10 and headed over to the Sikfords for a little catching up. I got back to Sarah's around 1 and the two of us, despite the fact I was getting my hair done at 9 the next morning, stayed up until 3:30 talking. It was all good productive chit chat but I was wiped out when I crawled out of bed four hours later. Ugh...
Now, I have been a bridesmaid a number of times. Every time I've been asked, when getting my up-do, to please not wash my hair as it makes it easier to actually put up. So I was surprised when the first thing they did was wash my hair. And my stylist was surprised as well - and not in a good way. More in a "why would you wash her hair before an up-do" sort of way. She did make my hair look pretty in a nice up-do (I'm sure I have a picture somewhere) but at one point, the woman who was getting her hair done behind me stated, "Oh! That does look nice. I was wondering for a while what you were doing to that poor girl's hair."
And now begins the great time crunch. I raced to get my toes done at my usual place in Merrifield. Nancy worked on my toes and was understanding, but sad for me, when I told her there was no time for a leg massage. She gave me pretty feet and a quick manicure rundown (no polish) in less than an hour. It was at that point I realized I brought no cash with me - and they do not accept credit card tips. So I vowed to get back to her the next day with a good tip - $10. I raced to Maryland where we were meeting to get our make-up done. I've never had someone do my make-up so I was keen to see what they would do. After $40 and 30 minutes, I was underwhelmed. It looked fine but lesson learned, right?
Since make-up took so long, we forewent pictures, raced to Megan's grandparents (on awful, awful streets), got changed, threw heavy jackets over our summer strapless dresses, boots on our feet, and headed to the country club. We were treated to champagne and appetizers in a secret waiting room upstairs before getting introduced to the guests. And that took about an hour/hour and half? No one was quite sure about the delay. All I know, is when we were finally whisked downstairs, it was decided that we were going to enter through the front door of the club, not the inside door. What that meant was all of us, in our high heels, with no wraps (because we were not planning on going outside), had to navigate an ice covered parking lot in 30 degree weather (without killing our flowers). I can't believe we look comfortable when we were introduced. The important thing, however, was the Megan looked beautiful and so very happy.
I enjoyed great crabcakes and crab soup, chatted with the wedding party, and drank a few drinks. My favorite part of the night, however, was sitting down with the MEH table and catching up with my friends. I am embarrassed to announce that I only danced to one song. No one danced much but I love dancing at weddings. In fact, I look at it as my workout for the day. I requested my up-do to be so strong that I could crazy dance and not have it come down. I kid you not. "Single Ladies" with Layton was the only song that got me up and, honestly, half the reason it got either of us up was because we had to fetch our own pieces of wedding cake from the table next to the dance floor.
To be continued...I have to go to class...
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