I’ve never transitioned quickly between activities.
My family’s mantra, “Lori, why are you ALWAYS last?”
My mom predicted that I would be late to my own wedding. And she was right.
Brent and I decided to rent a Lincoln Town Car for our wedding, as I had a large dress and didn’t want my dress crumpled. And I wanted nice pictures in a swanky car that we didn’t own.
Don’t ask why, I am a woman.
We participated in the time-honored ritual of bachelor/ette parties the night before the wedding. He did his thing with his groomsmen and I did my thing with my bridesmaids. Since I was caught red-handed, I will shamefacedly and with much embarrassment admit to the following: I got a little liquored up and mooned a guy.
Now that you are all open mouthed with your coffee dripping gently on your keyboard, let me say that I don’t do alcohol well. So I don’t drink more then 1/2-1 drink at a time. But it was my bachelorette party, and I got carried away. I get very happy, impulsive and funny on the few times I have had more then one drink. Needless to say, I must have been in outer space. I am normally extremely modest, and to this day I cringe when I think of this.
“Be sure your sin will find you out” is a great Biblical proverb.
Stupid dares. One of my weaknesses.
Thank the Lord for HIs forbearance, and for total darkness as I don’t believe the person even knew what I was doing. And I obviously didnt know what I was doing. I don’t even remember it. But God punished me thoroughly, as you will see! And no, I will never do such a rude and unthinkable action again! So heed the lesson I learned, young padawans’!
The day of the wedding was as crazy as any. Hair, makeup, getting into The Dress. And, as usual, I was late. So I sent everyone else on ahead of me while I finished up. I went to look for the keys for the Town Car….and they were nowhere to be found. I searched frantically in my voluminous white dress. Went through all my dirty clothes, my purse, ran out and looked for the keys near where I usually parked my Saturn. My Saturn was loaned out. After all, I had a Lincoln Town Car. Had being the operative word. Now I had a Big Nothing.
I was 20 minutes from everyone including the ceremony. I had no memory of my stupid dare. No one told me at the time what I did the night before.
I called my dad, who said, “Well, what am I going to do? I will be late if I come pick you up.”
Did I hear correctly?
Um, dad, IT’S MY WEDDING! It won’t start without me! I assure you!
Not having cellphones (this was 1993) was a PIA. I couldn’t call Brent. All I could do was send my dad to talk to Brent at the chapel. Brent should have come to retrieve me or asked someone to get me. But I was stubbornly determined to find the bleeping keys. After about 45 minutes, I was overruled and a good friend was dispatched (in his rented Tempo) to pick me up. I was a basket case.
Then it hit me.
This was an OMEN.
My life flashed before my eyes. Pure panic. I told Rich to turn around and take me to the airport. I was moving back to Pennsylvania NOW. No marriage, I didn’t even want to get my car. I was hysterical. Poor Rich. He was very calm and talked to me kindly, telling me that I was temporarily insane and would be better once I got to the chapel. I was in utter misery. Where were those keys? And why, oh why, was it ALWAYS me?
All of the sudden we stopped. The roads were closed for a parade in the town where the chapel was located. Now I was frantic the other way. I put the window down and screeched at the policeman.
“Open the road, I’m getting married!”
He looked at my insane bridezilla face, then my dress, then Rich’s long face. And he nodded at me.
“No problem, I will escort you.”
I was escorted by police sirens to the chapel. I got out, hugged the man, and picked up my huge dress and ran, flat-out ran, for the chapel. The photographer was kind enough to run with me, taking pictures for posterity sake. I look like a crazed idiot running in heels and a dress, holding onto my veil with one hand and my flowers with the other.
I was an hour and a half late.
And no, you don’t get to see the pictures of my sprinting insanity.
We had hired some strings from the Kansas City Orchestra to do the wedding music (classy all the way was our theme), and the poor men did their songs over and over and over. Apparently the guests got entertaining updates whenever Brent was contacted. Everyone was smiling, and they clapped when I made my entrance. Not very traditional, but I think they were wondering if this wedding was actually going to happen.
Me and my Big Dress
We got married. I almost lit my veil on fire twice, but otherwise it was a lovely service. And a lovely reception at a manor house turned upscale restaurant/wedding reception called Rembrandt’s.
The next day the bar called. They found keys–and my wallet– on the ground in their parking lot. Unknown to me, my mooning episode caused them to fall out. Thank God I didnt know that my wallet was also part of the loot or I would have been married in the loony bin for sure! After the conversation, I turned to my friends, who were there with me at the present opening.
“How did my keys AND my wallet fall out? Did I fall down?”
Silent laughter. All of them, bent over. I waited, puzzled, but with dawning horror that SOMETHING had happened. A snort here and there. Then my BF told me.
I turned to stone with horror. Then out popped a giggle. Next I was rolling on the floor right with them with silent yet hysterical laughter.
I had to tell my new husband about it. He smiled tightly and was just happy to get them back. Poor Brent. Another omen.
But, Happy Rainbow, we drove that car all weekend! And no one was able to decorate it with any “Just Married” sign to embarrass us!