When I started gearing up for this week’s MMP on Thursday of last week, I had this whole Shakespearean comedy/tragedy thing in mind. I know my friends,and I know how the rest of this wedding has gone, so I thought I’d have an epic saga of trials and tribulations, comedic mishaps, and love conquering all. To wit, I had drafted something of a Mad Lib MMP, with the details of the entire event to be filled in over the weekend for posting this morning. I drew up a nice little Dramatis Personae list, I thought of clever things to say about some of the problems that would inevitably occur, and I greatly looked forward to putting everything in place while nursing a hangover and sore feet the Day After.
Alas, my dramatic discourse was not meant to be–everything went beautifully. Almost freakishly so. It was as if everything that had ever gone wrong in the lives of the bridal party was advance payment for our good karma during the entire process.
Makes me concerned, however, for what the future may bring. :eek:
After three hours of beautification at a local salon (which, by the way, didn’t take credit cards–I almost ended up as their indentured shampoo girl), the female contingent of the bridal party went directly to the ceremony/reception hall, where the managers saw to our every need. We shared some champagne, wedged ourselves into our dresses, had some more champagne, took some pictures … and then waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. The manager kept bringing us champagne, and we kept drinking it. There was very little alcohol in it–I’d had eight glasses by the time we were called to line up for our entrance, and I didn’t feel a thing.
The ceremony was no more than ten minutes. Tops. I cried for maybe three of them. The bride and groom exited the chapel to the Throne Room Theme from Star Wars (which I didn’t know they were going to do–and now I can’t do it at my imaginary eventual wedding, dammit). We took a few more pictures, had our private little cocktail hour, and headed into the reception. Upon arriving at my table and sitting down next to my date, I discovered that the champagne we’d been served before the ceremony was alcoholic, and had just been waiting for me to relax before creeping up and getting me drunk. I didn’t mind.
I got to work late today, and want to get this posted, so I’ll be brief. Everything couldn’t have been more perfect had we sacrificed something to make it so, and the DJ told me later that it was the only wedding he’d ever played where the entire bridal party was out on the dance floor, screaming to Metallica. I hid safely in the back and missed the bouquet by a mile, and the bartender knew my name inside ten minutes.
Oh, and I’m vindictively happy to report that the Recalcitrant Bridesmaid was the second least attractive bridesmaid in the bunch, when all was said and done. Although, to be perfectly fair, I was the first least attractive. I care not, it was still a pretty dress. 
This is an example of the ridiculous pictures we took in order to keep ourselves occupied while waiting for the ceremony–somebody has a better version of it, full-length, where you can actually see my face, but never mind that now.
And I didn’t trip going down the aisle, so all was well.
