I Put the Ass in Class -- Tales from a Wedding Weekend

So I went to a wedding this weekend. Usually weddings are occasions where you find yourself all weepy eyed, nostalgic, and excited for the newly married couple.

While I felt all of those things at one point or another, I embraced the facts from the very beginning:

That the wedding was going to be a shitshow. My friends, in accordance to my usual life, it was.

The wedding proved to be the first among my group of core college buds. Admittedly there was a ton of scandal surrounding this wedding, and as I mentioned in a previous post I was hell-bent on discussing it with all of you.

However, after watching them walk down the aisle and commit to one another, I decided that it would be in poor taste and just plain wrong to delve into all of the issues surrounding their relationship.

Instead, I would like to turn the spotlight onto me and my friends, and fill you in on our ridiculously hilarious weekend.

Saturday, September 20, 2008:

8:45 a.m.: Hungover as shit. Stumble into the hotel bathroom and in a semi-delirious stupor manage to pull on appropriate clothes to eat breakfast in. Gather The Athlete and Martise (my two roomies) and hit the breakfast buffet where I manage to down 4 coffees in a row.

11:30 a.m.: Start driving to the church. Thank God for the invention of the Garmin Nuvi, as I have no idea where the hell I am.

12:30 p.m.: Arrive at the church. ONE HOUR LATER. Have you ever driven a car in 90 degree weather that long, while you are so hung over that you are not really sure if you might crash your car? Yeah.

12:32 p.m.: Congregate in the church parking lot with A, who is sitting in her car removing her nail polish and chugging Diet Coke as she is also incredibly hung over.

12:33 p.m.: As I reach into her car to steady myself and paw at her can of DC, I realize that A and I are WEARING THE SAME OUTFIT. Think two different black dresses with a pink shawl. AWESOME. We literally looked like wanna-be bridesmaids.

1:00 p.m.: Ceremony begins. I begin to feel like the air is being sucked out of the room. As I stand, sit, and kneel my way to celebrating the couple’s union, I feel as if the room is closing in and I am going to pass out. CLASS ACT. Pretty sure pure vodka was coming out of my pores as well.

2:15 p.m: Drive through McDonald’s to get a ginormous water in a last ditch effort to cure my case of “The Shakes”.

3:40 p.m.: Pass out

5:15 p.m.: Get picked up by Shuttle Bus to go to the reception.

6:00-9:00 p.m.: Eat a ton of food, drink a lot, still have the shakes, and get sweaty on the dance floor.

10:00-10:50 p.m.: Do two Kamikaze shots with the bartender and a group of my friends. Whoa, I am hammered.

11:00 p.m.: Everyone goes outside and waits to go back to the hotel via the Shuttle Bus.

11:10 p.m.: Joe decides to jump onto the Shuttle Bus and start dancing.

*Here is Joe as he's jumping off. My camera phone kind of crapped out on this one.*

11:11 p.m.: Elderly wedding guest informs our group that she just called the police.

11:12 p.m.: Shit, the cops?? Everyone jumps into the van.

11:14 p.m.: I drunkenly demand that our driver takes us to a liquor store. He counters with “Give me $20 bucks”. Shit.

11:45 p.m.: The hotel informs us that all wedding guests should take their carousing to the hotel library. Hotel library? There were many leather bound books and it smelled like rich mahagoney. Plus there was a big screen TV, and a table for flippy cup. YES!

11:50 p.m.: Give my debit card to my friends with a $50 credit limit blessing. They hoof it to the nearest liquor store.

Sunday, September 21, 2008:

12:10 a.m.: Friends arrive carrying cases of PBR. When I inquire why all the PBR, they inform me that I had in fact demanded it. Oh, right.

12:15 a.m.: Dude who looks like he's in his mid-50's asks me if he can have a few beers because he "really wanted to get his wife drunk so she'd sleep with him" and that it's "been awhile". I did what anyone else would have done- sold him 3 cans for $5. WIN.

12:15-1:25 a.m.: Drink lots and lots of PBR. See the new bride walking through the hotel lobby and drunkenly tell her how beautiful she was; like 40 times in a row.

1:28 a.m.: Another wedding party staying in the hotel comes and crashes our party in the library. They DON’T bring their own beer. A dude wearing a kilt and the rest of his tuxedo tries to take one of the cases away from me. Kayleigh does not like this.

1:30 a.m.: Notice that all of the men from the other wedding party are not wearing pants. Well, except for the guy in the kilt.

1:40 a.m.: Start getting hit on by one of the strange men from the other wedding group. He tells me I have the most mesmerizing beautiful brown eyes, I ask him what the hell he does for a living. Because I’m a huge bitch like that.

1:55-3:15 a.m.: Me and Wedding Dude graphically make out in the courtyard, in the hall, in the library (Colonel Mustard, with the wrench), on the stairs, on the benches, and in the lobby.

3:30-4:15 a.m.: Simultaneously want to punch Wedding Dude and all of his friends in the face, as they repeatedly point at me and exclaim “You keep making out with our friend Wedding Dude!” to which I’d reply “Very good! You DO have eyes!” Also begin to get uber annoyed as Wedding Dude is hell-bent on taking me back to his digs for sexy time. Or my digs, if that’s what would make me feel more comfortable (rolls eyes).

4:45 a.m.: Declare that I’m going to sleep. Wedding Dude starts to follow me, begging to “just sleep next to me and that he won’t even try anything.” I decide that I’m sick of his damn whining, so I acquiesce.

5:00 a.m.: Discover that the room key in my hand isn’t right. Too drunk to understand what to do next. Wedding Dude is very apprehensive at my side.

5:01 a.m.: A comes miraculously tearing around the corner, and takes my key card and disappears. I stand at my door step dumbfounded.

5:05 a.m.: A comes back, hands me my new key card, and says goodnight. I am still dumb founded and full of extreme feelings of gratefulness.

5:06 a.m.: Crack open my door to the rumbling sounds of Martise’s snores, along with his body moving up and down under the covers. Wedding Dude looks in cautiously. I inform him that my friend will kick his ass if he wakes up (Ed. note: false)and finds him in our room. Wedding Dude informs me that he doesn’t care, he still wants to take the chance.

5:07 a.m.: I slam the door in Wedding Dude’s face and lock it. I hear his muffled whimpers on the other side of the door, and howl with laughter. Martise does not wake up.

5:25 a.m: Brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on my PJ pants in the bathroom. As I reach for my tee shirt, it slips from my fingers and falls in the toilet.

5:26 a.m.: Fish my only shirt out of the toilet water and fling it into the shower. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Decide to fall asleep half naked. My male friend sleeping in the other bed would just HAVE to deal.

8:00-8:20 a.m.: The Front Desk calls on repeat. Martise finally answers. He is informed that there is an “unidentified female” passed out right outside our hotel room door, and that if she belongs in our room she needs to get in there stat.

8:21 a.m.: Martise opens the door, and takes a picture of this unknown chick passed out on the ground. Who could pass that up?

8:35 a.m.: The paramedics come to scoop this girl off of the floor. When they wake her up, she insists that she “didn’t know what happened” and that she “didn’t even drink that much.” Senorita, you were woken up by a team of paramedics on a hotel hallway floor. Save it.

8:45 a.m.: Martise wakes me up. I am still drunk, and my answers come out in choppy sentences. I am informed that everyone is meeting for breakfast in 15 minutes, and that my presence was required.

8:50 a.m.: Martise hands me one of his tee shirts, and I go to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. Disaster. There was no time to brush my hair, put on makeup, or look like a human being. I wore light blue PJ pants with flowers on them and an oversize tee shirt down to breakfast. In public.

9:00 a.m.: As I walked to the breakfast buffet, I rested my head against the hallway wall as I walked. Picture that in your head. I couldn’t even walk straight.

9:20 a.m.: Stare longingly at the pile of greasy bacon in one of the buffet bins, and reach for the tongs. That’s when I realize that Kilt Boy from the night before was standing two feet away from me on my right.

9:21 a.m.: Kilt Boy yells out in a deep booming voice “Hey, aren’t you the one who made out with my friend Wedding Dude last night?” he then turned to a table of his comrades (sans WD) and yelled for further reassurance “Hey guys! This IS the girl that was making out with Wedding Dude all last night!!”

9:22 a.m.: I put down the bacon tongs, and turned to face the dining room. All the busboys, waiters, and breakfast patrons were staring right at me in shocked silence. I put my hand in the air and declared “That’s right everyone- I DID make out with Wedding Dude last night. And I want to personally thank you, Kilt Boy, for owning me before 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Thank you.”

He then stared at me intently, completely missing all social cues to SHUT THE F UP, and screams “Yeah, weren’t you wearing that same pink shawl thing as that other girl, and wasn’t your hair all curly, and…”

“Congratulations you DO possess a short term memory. Are you done yet?”

9:25-10:20 a.m.: Eat with friends, rehash the hilarity from the night before, and laugh at me for getting owned while still in my pajamas, hungover at breakfast. Hangover is getting worse, feeling of intoxication slightly subsides.

10:25 a.m.: Get up to leave, and see Kilt Boy coming at me again from across the room. “HEY!” he screamed, “Do you have Wedding Dude’s number? Do you want it? Huh?” Everyone looks again.

Not my life.

10:30 a.m.: Pack up all the stuff in my room, and throw it will nilly (who says that?) into my suitcase. It was then that I realized that I only packed up the bare essentials: stilettos, multiple bottles of vodka, pink shawls, and pajama pants. I then picked my still soaking wet shirt out of the shower and threw it into my bag with the rest of my stuff.

11:35 a.m.: Made it back to Chi-city in one piece.

Monday, September 22, 2008:

I have a little too much fun at work with the picture of the random girl who passed out:

Tuesday, September 23, 2008:

My hangover finally broke. God bless America.