Oct 11, 2009

Always The Drunken Idiot, Never The Bride

My trip to Vancouver last weekend was pretty much a comedy of errors. Of course, my wonderful van incident got me off on the right foot. So I'm already running a day behind. Instead of getting there on Saturday to attend a party for the out-of-towners, I leave Sunday morning, using public transit and the BC Ferries to get me to a 3pm West Vancouver wedding on time. What could possibly go wrong?

I was planning to stay with a family friend, Lesley, in Point Grey. She had emailed me with instructions on where her key would be if she wasn't there. I arrive at the house, drop off my stuff, put the key in my bag, and go for a walk before it's time to get ready for the wedding. An hour later I return to discover I'd locked poor Lesley out of her own house. I'd assumed this key was meant for me to have. But no. It was her key. She had tried unsuccessfully to break into her own home, then went and borrowed a cellphone from a neighbor and was in the process of tracking down her children to rescue her when I stroll up, all smiles and stolen keys. Her groceries lying out in the sun, wilting. Heehee, oops.

I get all dolled up in my new black dress and lace-up boots, then hit the bus. I had planned this out in advanced. The wedding was near Broadway and Granville St. I'd googled the address several times. I had to do was get on the bus and ride it straight down Broadway. No problem.

I get off the bus and start looking around. But wait! The street addresses here are in the one thousands. My wedding invitation says I need to be in the three thousands.

Balls.

It's 2:45pm. The wedding starts at 3pm. I no longer have any confidence in where I'm supposed to be. I briefly contemplate trying the bus again. Then I think, if I miss this wedding because I'm stuck on the wrong bus (and because I couldn't freaking use google right), I'll never forgive myself. So I hail a taxi, thrust the invitation into the driver's hand and say Take me here!

Here turns out to be back towards Lesley's, within walking distance of her place. I get there at 2:55pm, rush to find a seat, then sit waiting until 3:30 before the ceremony begins. When I questioned the bride about the late start she said that it had been intentional, as they figured people would be late. People like me, who can't use google.


It was a very fun wedding, and while I'd love to wax poetic about it, I didn't ask Andrea and Carlos if they'd mind, and I don't want to bug them on their honeymoon. So I'll leave the personal details out.

I will say that there was a LOT of wine, as you can see in this picture. They even had custom labels with a stick Andrea and Carlos holding a heart. There was so much wine that the bride forgot her bouquet on our table (also featured in this picture) and she had to send someone to find it for some picture taking.

I hooked up with some friend's of Andrea's that I'd met once years ago, and we all proceeded to over-indulge in the wine and alienate everyone else at the reception. We held a lot of things up to our boobs while others took pictures. Glasses, cupcakes, wine bottles. I'm not sure why, but I can assure you it was insanely funny at the time.

There was some white lacy material lying around that we turned into a veil. We took turns wearing it and pretending to cry while clutching the wine to our chests, taking pictures of each other posing as lonely, desperate freaks. A few days earlier my Granny had said Maybe you'll meet someone special at the wedding. Dream on, Granny. Dream on.

At some point in the evening we end up at a casino downtown. I realize I've had enough, and in typical Sarah style I decide to walk home. This sort of drunken thinking has gotten me into some pretty long midnight walks in my past. But this was a good 8km, started at 2am. I get about a quarter of the way into it and I have to pee so bad my back teeth are swimming. Ahead I see a large condo complex with a big lawn and a nice cluster of trees. The perfect shelter for a midnight pee. I pull down my tights and underwear and squatted near a bush, leaning back on my right hand for support. This is all going great until it's time to get up. I don't know what went wrong, but all of a sudden I'm tumbling down a hill, legs tangled in my tights and ass saying hello to the moon.

No problem. When the spinning stops I get up, re-arrange my tights and dress, smooth down my hair, and decide I should probably take a taxi the rest of the way home. Back at Lesley's I take off my wedding clothes, put on my pjs, and pass out.

In the morning (okay, early afternoon) I go to the bathroom. When I stand up from the toilet the seat is covered with debris. Leaves, twigs, grass, dirt. Little souvenirs from my stellar acrobatics, hitchhiking on my ass across town.

I apologize if this an overshare.

Oh, and I found this picture on my camera. I vaguely remember passing these hydrants and thinking that they were the best thing ever.

One's red! One's blue! Like a smurf! Dude!

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