Well, the deed is done. I am no longer a single Asian and The Betrothed is now…uh…The Pilot? More importantly, we both survived.
Our wedding was not just a one evening affair–it was a long weekend. It started with dinner Thursday night with early landers at Joe Pizza in Simsbury. On the way there, not one, but two deer tried to commit suicide-by-rental-car by leaping out in front of the Father-in-Law (FIL). Friday involved picking up my maid of honor, Crazypants, at her parents’ house up in the hills of Glastonbury amid a torrential downpour. I looked up their driveway and it looked more appropriate for whitewater rafting than for driving a 2004 Corolla. So, her dad had to drive her down the hill. Very reminiscent of high school when I was afraid to back out of that same driveway.
We picked up our dresses and dashed them through the rain into the car and in catching up, I got us lost. Not lost, but I missed our exit, which made us a little late for a group lunch at Plan B in Simsbury before our rehearsal. The rehearsal lasted about 10 minutes, and from there, the boys went to get their tuxes and the girls went to loll around the hotel. The rehearsal dinner at Carmen Anthony Fish House in Avon was delicious and, with 70 people attending, the size of a wedding itself. All The Pilot and I kept saying was, “Oh, holy $h!t…can you imagine what tomorrow night is going to be like?”
Saturday morning, we hustled about with some minor transportation glitches to get to hair and make-up. One gave me a heart attack, and the second, which should have caused agita, produced little reaction. The Anti Couric (that bitch) texted me saying Dr. Gold had hit a Hartford Marathon runner…and was talking to a cop after said runner had scraped knees and left a dent in The Matrix’s giant SUV. Crazypants pointed out that you have to hit someone pretty hard to leave a dent. Sure enough, we arrived at the salon and there they were in Dr. Gold’s sedan, dentless and arrestless. Jackasses. While this was going on, the boys were finding a vacant lot in New Hartford to do burnouts in the rental Mustang. Even bigger jackasses.
The rest of the morning and afternoon went fairly smoothly–including the addition of fake hair to my head. When it came time to leave the hotel. There were two other brides trying to load in and get out at the exact same time as us…oops. We played musical limos and buses in the Avon Old Farms Hotel circle for a bit. Once we were all loaded up and on the road, my awesome photographer suddenly said, “Oh my gosh, you don’t have your flowers!”. I had totally forgotten about the florist. After a very apologetic phone call from me and a good laugh on her part, the florist met us at the Drake Hill Bridge where we were taking pictures and outfitted us with her gorgeous creations. Because she rocks.
We commandeered the bridge for a bit while another wedding party, which had arrived after us, shot us some angry looks. Then we headed to The Riverview where the deed was to be done.
At this point, hurricane-like weather decided to descend upon us. WTF? No worries though, because there were cans and cans of hairspray nestled in our hair and nary a strand moved. The bartenders were kind enough to give me a shot of Jack and hand out some beers to the wedding party. By the time it was “go time” I think we were all ready. The ceremony, thanks to our kickass JP, was short and sweet but still special. And then it was party time.
So here is when I get to tell you about the stories that the DJ has left us with. They’re not good stories, but they are starting to be funny.
We had chosen David Gray’s “This Year’s Love” as our first dance. Nice, slow, can dance in a circle a la 7th grade. For the song to open the dance floor, we had gone with Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood”. Nice and classic, high energy and wouldn’t offend our parents’ generation. As we were preparing for our First Dance as a Married Couple, the DJ announced, “And now the newlyweds will dance to Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood'”. The Pilot’s uncle has our reactions caught on video and they are priceless. We flew to the DJ, told him the right song and he looked at us blankly. Completely vacant. It took him the whole length of the song to find the right song and get it on. Oh. My. God. Now, I can swing dance, thanks to being a nerd in high school and Clamp. The Pilot cannot. There was no way of faking it…but the wedding party covered well and had it not taken the entire song to rectify the situation, it could have come off as a joke.
The next DJ eff-up came when FIL wanted him to play Hava Nagila as his side of the family is Jewish. We had discussed this with the DJ in our meeting and chosen a version. However, when FIL asked him to play it…again, “vacantface”. It took him 15 minutes and his partner’s computer to locate the song. At this point, the vote went up that he must have been on something. Once they found it, up The Pilot and I went in the chairs and I had one of the most terrifying two minutes of my life. I was convinced I was going to die of a broken neck.
The rest of the evening was great–the food was plentiful and delicious (The Riverview took great care of us), we danced our faces off (even though Mr. DJ effed up a couple more times), got to see lots of friends and family, and even took a few minutes to ourselves. We kept the after party going at the Avon Old Farms Hotel pub and even got to see a bunch of our friends falling down drunk. The next morning, we got to mock their pain and speak very loudly to them at the brunch we held at Tower Ridge Country Club.
And then, we headed home. Not much has changed post-walking-the-marriage-plank. The Pilot is getting used to wearing a piece of jewelry and we get to take a nice trip to Hawaii in mid-November. But other than that, the day to day isn’t much different. Except now the poor sucker is stuck with me.
Big thank you’s to our awesome vendors: Alyson at The Riverview in Simsbury; Jane at Just for You; Deborah Zoe and her assistant for the day, Coco; Sandra and the girls at Tracy & Company; Avon Old Farms Hotel; the ever-changing staff at Carmen Anthony Fish House and Tower Ridge Country Club…the DJ shall remain nameless.