another wedding story

in the front yard a white tent was pitched; bouquets filled with roses, chrysanthemums, lilies, and snap dragons welcomed the fanning grandmothers and highschool era friends. in a room full of six girl's clutter, in the house of the yard in which this tent of close family and friends are collected under, stands the bride, like so many brides before her: glowing, radiant, anxious, nervous, and exigent. earlier that day as she raced into the house with her dress and shoes and make-up and this and that in her brides maids arms, dark clouds had announced their possible, uninvited arrival. hours later the matron of honor is slaving over the brides train with a mini steamer in her hands desperately trying to slay a stubborn wrinkle.

i'm standing in the door way, a spectator, a guest, a friend worried as to how this beautiful bride i'm gawking over will handle the chance of isolated thunder storms becoming more than a chance. fortunately, they don't and so it remains a beautiful and peaceful day, shortly becoming a beautiful and intoxicating night.

the wedding was like most i've attended- their are the little girls dolled up in big girl dresses tossing rose petals down the aisle to the affirmation of a hundered smiling adoring faces; their is the underlying akwardness of strangers being stuck next to eachother in tight rows of white chairs for such an intimate and important occasion; their is the minister that makes everyone wonder if he didn't have one too many before the ceremony at the open bar prior to the open bar being opened; their is the slip-up during the exchanging of vows where the groom stumbles in nervousness at what he was just declaring. in familiar ways with slight differences, like so many before, it was the same unique wedding.

the celebrating entourage is ushered to the back yard where twinkling candels and fairy lights illuminate the night with an enchanting aurora and where i happily indulge my thrist with the intended concept of an open bar.

i'm in a dazzling blue dress, jon is in a tuxedo, coldplay is resonating in my ears, the bride and groom are both looking at me to participate and so i swallow my pride and ask a boy to dance to with me for the first time in my life. i can't tell if he hates it or just hates dancing but he's being a team player and so i let my head drop on his shoulder for the twenty seconds i don't feel weird for having my head rest on his shoulder.

their is more dancing. thier is more wine. their is the cutting of the cakes. their is the table i am sitting at; everyone is off mingeling or attending to their wedding party duties, and so then their is me under the table-sleeping until the table cloth is removed. this sudden realization dawns upon me that i'm sleeping under the table and the once loud air is now quiet, and i need to throw up, and i need to do it fast.

i'm in a dazzling blue dress hugging the toliet, curious as to how long i've been sleeping, if anyone saw me, if anyone noticed i was missing for so long, who caught the bouquet and garder belt, what the car looked like after the grooms men had their way with it, if jon will drive me back tomorrow to get my car, and how this wasn't just another wedding but a wedding to remember.