I'm Late, I'm Late, For A Very Important Date?

Question. When it is appropriate for the bride to be over an hour late to her wedding?

Rushing around to get my ducks in a row to drive down to San Diego for a 4pm wedding was how I started my morning last Saturday. Knowing I'd be surrounded by slight, gorgeous twenting-somethings, it made sense to color the hair, polish the toes and make sure the mustache was waxed. We are talkin' e.f.f.o.r.t. toward getting ready. Hop in the car early with my man and head south, thinkng we'd get a bite to eat within a relatively short time...like before the engine was warm. That ship sunk when I said I wanted a 'really good' burger. I was thinking In N Out, the man had something totally different in mind..and it was 70 miles later.

After a little food and some aspirin, the headache subsided and we were on the road again in horrible traffic. Doesn't anyone stay home anymore?!

We arrived in San Diego with about 20 minutes to spare before the bride walked down the isle.
"Where's the ceremony taking place," I asked.
"In Balboa Park."
Oh, I thought. great. Good think I wore the Prada pumps. The heels will be so enhance with the mud punched up from a wet park lawn.
He handed me the invite. It read, 'in the chapel across from the Museum of Man' Ok. Pumps saved.
We drove through the park, accidently found our destination, but there was no parking.
Did my man drop me off and head out to find pariking? Oh No...are you day dreaming!!! We drove across a bridge, out of the park and back into the city. There he found a 'nice' parking spot. What was nice about it, I couldn't say. All I could think was, "what the fuck!" I'm going to walk a half a mile back across that bridge to the chapel across from the Museum of Man in my Prada heels! These are not walking shoes! Hello???
But in an effort to not find my self heading do divorce court and not a wedding, I clammed up and started walking.

We arrived at the chapel with just five minutes to spare. We were stopped at the front door by a lovely woman who informed us in her sing song voice, that the bridal party had not yet arrived. "If you wouldn't mind waiting outside," she said. "The chapel is rather hot." Oh. OK. Well, there you go. I caught my breath while I looked around for somewhere to sit. Nothing. Not even a park bench.
"Stand over here, sweetheart, there's a breeze!" my husband offered.
Yes, dear, there's a breeze here alright but it's got a distinct smell of piss" Possibly you should get out of the city more and smell some fresh air."
We moved. We stood. I looked at my husband and said, 'you realize this wedding isn't going to start until at least 4:30, maybe even 4:45.
"Why do you think that? he asked me very suspiciously.
"Well, I said, "none of the bridal party is here yet, and there don't seem to be any other guests here but us. "

Knowing that we had to be at another commitment at 6:30 that same night about 70 miles North was not helping the situation.

About that time, the unidentified woman said we could head into the chapel. Down the stairs we went. Entered a very very small chapel, with five rows of wooden benches with no backs. We sat. Others started trailing in. No one was recognizable. It was now close to 4:20. At 4:25 a priest came in and asked if we all knew what wedding we were at.
Was this a trick question?
The clock ticked, the sweat poured off the brows of many and then in walked 'that girl.' I mean she had legs up to her ears and was wearing what I would definitely categorize as a top. I think she'd assessorized with a pair of six-inch heels - and maybe some perfume. That girl sashayed into the chapel like nobody's business. Every guy in the place banged heads just trying to get a look. Pathetic. How dare she show up the bride..

oh, speaking of who...had still not arrived.

I looked at my husband at 4:45 and said, "we can't leave once the bride is standing in the doorway."
He agreed we should leave so our later committment wasn't spoiled. So dragged my sweat soaked body back up the stairs in my Prada heels (really, not a walking shoe) and we made it almost across the high bridge when there came the bride and her party. Whoopin and honkin' on their way to the church.
My husband looked at me with 'that look,' and I simply said, 'not in a million years...'

And so it goes. We drove off into what would soon be a glorious sunset along the beautiful California coast. Still full from the great burger hours before we made our way to our next destination. I just couldn't shake from my mind however the image of the bride and the girl with the short skirt wrestling for the attention of so few as the night drifted by.

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