Goin' to the chapel and we're gonnnnnna get marrrrieeedddd.
I've been to lots of weddings. LOTS. All kinds, catholic, mexican, christian, outside, inside, hotels, parks, military, so many. When the husband and I were dating, one of his relatives at the time..... it's all complicated, but I'm not one to draw the branches of the family tree, but we'll keep it at "relative" was getting married. In another state. Now, let's all say in unison how I'm a west coast girl, still shell shocked about any other place other than So Cal. Second verse same as the first. And of course, this was in Michigan.
We drive to this quaint little town, in a cute little town church. Adorable. Laura Ingalls was playing in the churchyard, I swear. And I *heart* Laura Ingalls and her down home goodness, so you know I was digging this church. Wedding was pretty, quick and easy and it was on to the reception time.
We have our directions, and can't find this place for anything. We call boyfriend/husbands mom, and she tells us it's behind the party store. For those who are not in with the cool crowd, these Yankeeganders call the liquor store A.K.A 7-11 "party stores". I can only imagine why. But that's what they are. They are not a one stop shop to get your Winnie The Pooh birthday supplies. I dunno who would think such a thing.... probably some naive west coast bozo of a girl....if I had to take a guess. They even have drive through "party stores", yes, yes they do. So you can get your drink on all the faster. Apparently.
We pull up and....um.... WTF!
The reception was behind the part store... as in parking. You then gallivanted your way to the door... underneath the party store.
Yes, we are now entering the reception, underneath the vodka aisle. We go sit down at our plastic checkered tablecloth covered lunch table, complete with a bowl of mints that are stale, and pastel, as if they were used at George Washington's baby shower.
I look up and see blue and red lights. The ones that belong on a squad car, in various spots of the ceilings. And they thought I was half kidding when I mentioned if the lights were to warn us if the pace upstairs was being held up. By a thirsty masked hairy and 3/4 naked man. But I wasn't kidding. I was dead serious. I was WTF times a thousand all over the place.
It was time to eat, and we get in the buffet line. We can have 7 layer bean salad. Or ham in some congealed sauce... much like spam. Or green beans... not to be confused with the 7 bean compadre at the beginning of the table. They had some marshmallow fluff dainty cloud thing. But thank god for the rolls. Rolls are safe. Rolls are what get you through when times are tough and you are stuck at a wedding with 3 olives and a dead jellied pig staring you in the eye. Rolls matter.
We had rolls. And decided it was quiting time while the groomsmen were taking shots out of coffee mugs, so we dug our coats out from next to the igloo cooler that housed the capri suns, and snuck out the back door. Of the basement reception hall... beneath the liquor shack.
I have no idea if these people are still married.