Stories and thoughts about family and life

Crazy Wedding Rehearsal (reposted from April 30, 2010)

on January 13, 2012

I’ve had so many people who have enjoyed this story on Facebook, that I’m reposting for your pleasure. . .

So, we were invited to El Dorado this weekend to the wedding of the daughter of a friend of mine. At my friend’s suggestion, we decide to make it a nice romantic weekend alone and ask Aunt Joan to watch the boys. Joan and I go shopping, and I get a couple of dresses which are, ahem, a little less conservative than I normally would wear. With that in mind, I bought a special adhesive bra to feel a little more comfortable than just the built-in bra already in the dress.
Louis took off today, and we drove to El Dorado right after we dropped the kids off at school. We had a really nice lunch and a relaxing afternoon in the room watching tv and talking. We were supposed to be at the rehearsal dinner at 7, so around 5:30 (because I’m seriously OCD) I tell him we need to start getting ready. I go in and start getting ready. I’ve got my makeup on and my hair done and I’m contemplating about this dress. Number 1, I’m standing there looking at myself in the mirror and wondering what possessed me to get something quite so low. Number two, I put the other bra on, and then I take it off. It’s important to point out here that I tried the dress on with this bra about two weeks ago. Have you ever tried an adhesive bra? Some of them don’t work so well. This one is actually great. It’s secure and you don’t have to feel like if you zig it’s gonna zag. So when I put it on that day, I put the cups a little too far apart. Yes, for those of you now picturing this–it creates cleavage. In my case, though, it created way more than I was prepared for. As I put the dress on and walk into our bathroom, I swear I have morphed into Pamela Anderson. I stand there, staring in the mirror and laughing pretty hysterically at the sight. So, back to the dressing session tonight.
I put the bra on (not with nearly as much cleavage as dear Pamela), and I take it off. Is it better with or without? I finally decide on without, about the time Louis announces. . .he brought the wrong pants. They don’t fit–not even remotely. It’s now 5:55 and we take stock of everything we brought. Suit, check. Sports coat, check. No other pants except what goes with his suit.
I take a breath and tell him not to worry about it–there’s a Penny’s on the other side of town and we can go get him some pants. I tell him to put his jeans on and I grab the jewelry I’m going to wear.
He then announces the next bombshell–he didn’t bring any shoes. Really?? I mean, no pants, AND no shoes?? Well, lucky for us Penny’s sells shoes too.
We gather ourselves (as much as we can without appropriate pants or shoes and me contemplating my boobs), and we head downstairs. I check the time 6:07. We can do this. 20 minutes at Penny’s and we should be good. We head out to the end of town where I remember seeing a mall on my many El Dorado visits with a Penny’s. Louis spots the sign and I whip into the parking lot. Only one problem. Penny’s has apparently abandoned this particular city. Hmmm, what now? I ask Louis if he would be offended wearing pants from Wal-Mart. He doesn’t care at this point. We barrel down the highway to Wal-Mart and trot into the store. Why does every freaking Wal-Mart have to be laid out differently???
We find the men’s section and locate some pants for him. As he’s trying them on, I’m explaining to the girl enthusiastically manning the dressing room desk that we’ve had a little wardrobe issue and are in a real hurry. She explains that he’s welcome to wear the pants out as long as we’re escorted to the front desk, or he can come back and change clothes. We decide since he now needs shoes too, he puts his jeans back on and we’re going to find shoes. She directs us to the shoe department (which only has like three aisles), and we find some men’s shoes. I find him a pair which says it’s the right size but is at least two sizes too big. In desperation I just grab the first box I see, and luckily it’s the right size too (supposedly). He tried them on and we decide we’re good to go. We go racing to the front checkout. It’s now 6:40. Holy crap! We’re supposed to be there at 7!
The girl at the jewelry counter isn’t busy so she checks our purchases out. Louis goes running back to the dressing area and changes clothes and as we’re leaving, he realizes that the shoes only rang up for $2. Yes, you read that right. $2. We’re marveling at our wonderful luck and as we get in the truck I do a time check. 6:50. Louis grabs the directions and begins to navigate. We should only be about 5 minutes away. No sweat. We’ll make it with a few minutes to spare.
As he’s reading the directions and we’re driving to the expected location, he realizes we’re on the wrong street. We’re on NORTH Jefferson, but we should be on SOUTH Jefferson. We’ve gone about five blocks and turn around to try to get back on track. We get on South Jefferson and find that it ends after about three blocks. Okay, so they got their north and south backward, right? We turn around AGAIN, and head back the other way. We go and go, and finally decide we’re still not on the right street. We’re starting to argue about where we went wrong. we should have turned left. No, the street name was wrong. No, we need to go back and start from the beginning. My stubborn demeanor and my sense of direction tells me we’re headed the right way, but I’m starting to really question myself and Louis is getting more animated in his response to my diligence despite my question.
Joan loaned me her TomTom a couple of days ago in preparation for a trip we have coming up next month. I decide to turn it on and let it tell us where we’re going. It’s 6:57, and I’m getting nervous. I HATE to be late. TomTom isn’t responding–dead battery. I pull into a driveway and attach the power cord and plug it into the lighter. Finally the screen lights up and I enter the city and the address. I toss it to Louis and throw the truck into reverse, figuring on turning around again. Louis chuckles, and we realize we’re practically on top of this place! It’s about 100 yards away. Holy crap. We finally pull into the parking lot at 7 p.m. on the dot.
We had a wonderful evening, and enjoyed the rehearsal dinner a lot. I’m hoping for a lot less excitement tomorrow–and I’m not even the bride!!


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