The bride wore…flip flops!!

8 Aug

Those outside the city who don’t see me day-to-day have been asking about this for weeks: my first wedding since my own ill-fated almost-affair last year.  I’ve been asked a few times about this now and the answer is very simple: this is one of my closest friends in the world…it’s time to celebrate!

Saturday 5:45 am: Cape May bound in a rented SUV and we’re already arguing over whose iPod to listen to

After I have a near nervous breakdown over forgetting my watch and get called an idiot for not knowing how the iPod adapter works, we settle on one of our iPods.  It’s not long before the slow folk lyrics “I hear the drizzle of the rain” come on and this particular iPod gets vetoed as the gentleman it belongs to yells “WTF?!  This isn’t on my iPod!”  I beg to differ, sir.  The next iPod confirms that we will not actually agree on an individual iPod during the course of the estimated three hour drive ahead of us.  LFO’s “Summer Girls” momentarily breaks the iPod induced tension before the four of us spend the next two hours talking over one another.  The trip takes two hours, not three and a half, because speed limits are for (1) suckers; (2) people who drive regularly; (3) non-Manhattanites.  We are none of the above.  Hello Cape May.  It’s 8 am…”Is the beach even open yet?”  We proceed to Uncle Bill’s Pancake House where the culprit with the folk music on his iPod orders vanilla ice cream for breakfast.  “Hey, he’s on vacation!”  We’re on the beach by 9:30 am lathering up with SPF 15…no one likes burnt bridesmaids.

Saturday 5:00 pm: Rehearsal dinner without actually having to rehearse anything, other than – per the bride’s request – eating and drinking

After being informed during our 3 pm check-in by the housekeeper’s two trouble-making brats (they’re actually adorable, about six-years-old and maybe, nine) that the house we’re staying at is haunted, we take quick showers and head to Union Park Restaurant.  I get over the idea of sleeping in the attic of a haunted house because, quite frankly, we all got great color at the beach and look fabulous.  I get caught with a glass of white, a glass of red and a flute of champagne in front of me but I swear I thought that was how the hostess was pouring for everyone.  Hey, the bride liked my style.  A fellow bridesmaid and I discuss our “plan of attack” to socialize with the groom’s mother, aunt and cousin without coming off too single white female.  But in all honestly, we’re obsessed with them.  Steak or salmon, steak or salmon, steak or salmon.  I hate making this decision.  I always regret my order as soon as the waiter walks away.  I went for the pork, a new choice, while simultaneously convincing my neighbor to go halfsies with me.  I felt slightly guilty that his salmon was better than my dish but the satisfaction of having half his meal on my plate quickly replaced that guilt (loooooove you….).  In anticipation of the night ahead of us, one of the girls and I sneak into the the bathroom for 2.5 hours of energy.  Out of a bottle.

Saturday 8:30 pm: Wine and cheese back at the haunted house while Cape May unknowingly prepares itself for this crew

After putting our cheese-plate making skills to work, guests start to arrive.  One of the other bridesmaids takes charge and insists we all “mingle”.  I track down her husband and tattletale that his wife is telling me what to do.  Just for fun.  I truly do not know that I have ever seen prosecco corks pop or wine bottles open quite so quickly.  (And you know my group of girlfriends – this is saying a lot.)  Meandering through the house (with a bottle in hand to refill for guests of course!), I just remember thinking how much FUN everyone is having!  The party eventually moves to the porch…because that’s what city-dwellers assume you’re supposed to do in the suburbs.  There’s a lot of talk about Brazilian waxes in my little group of minglers; one of the girls and I will end up comparing waxes before the night is over.  Hey, we’re really good friends.

Saturday 11:30 pm: Rocking out with bloody knees while cops escort the groom home

After much confusion at the front door of Cabanas Beach Bar and Grill (“Wait, you’re ALL together…?”), the bride made her way onstage with the band.  Dance party ensues.  From what I remember.  The bride, playing the much necessary role of Cinderella tonight – shockingly – makes her midnight bedtime (prooooud of you!).  Antics continue a bit longer before we head home.  I’m sure shots were involved.  About halfway back to the house, one of the bridesmaids (the mingling sergeant) plumetts face first onto the sidewalk.  I somehow caught her shoulders and face but her knees, toes and elbows were in serious need of first aid.  Despite this, we sit on the sidewalk laughing to the point of tears until we realize that we should probably get back to the house.  I have no idea who brought band-aids to the house but you are a savior.  Now, a few of the guys may or may not to have misplaced the groom on the walk home.  A big THANK YOU to Cape May’s finest for bringing him back to the house.  We knew we wouldn’t lose him again that night though because he left a trail of potato chips up a flights of stairs (one perfectly placed chip on each step…) and the bowl outside his designated room.  The chip bowl stays in that spot the remainder of our trip.  Just in case anyone gets lost.

To be continued…

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