I'm not even sure where to start this little dity of a tale here. Okay, (revving up for monster story telling, hold onto your undies), so a few months ago my darling, forgetful, anti-detail oriented husband got a text message from a college buddy, let's call him Sam, asking for our address. But being the Procrastination King of the East Coast doesn't come right up and knock on your door, oh no. That shit is earned. So my husband doesn't reply to Sam's text message and all's well that ends well. I wish. A few weeks later, our other college friends start making plans to attend the wedding of Sam and his fiance in Michigan. Only we aren't planning anything because someone didn't reply to Sam's text message. (Gaining some momentum here).
Cut to a few weeks later, specifically two weeks before the Glorious Wedding, and the same someone I was referring to earlier gives our old buddy Sam a call and basically Invites Himself To The Wedding that is two weeks away (insert gasp now). Oh yes he did. Only he didn't just Invite Himself, oh no, he roped me into this diabolical plan, too. And! He went ahead and bought the plane tickets from NY to Michigan that same day and all of the sudden I'm stuck in this ill-mannered, tasteless, offensive whirlwind on the high road to hell.
So thinking quickly, I automatically search the internet for their bridal registry and send off a semi-expensive gift with the card reading, "Can't wait to see you at the wedding!" - hint, hint. Ready or not, here we come! Then I check for a wedding webpage, check. Scroll over to the guestbook and quickly jot a note to Sam and his fiance, "Thank you for remembering us on your special day!" - HINT, HINT. I don't really know what I was thinking, only that I had to do something, anything that might lessen the blow of us showing up to crash a wedding in less than two weeks.
Friends, it was inevitable. We pile into the limo on the day of the wedding with all of our friends. We head to the church where we obediently sit on the groom's side and give witness to a beautiful wedding. We hop back in the limo to travel to the reception. We arrive and make our way to the place card table. And do you know what? NO PLACE CARD WITH OUR NAMES ON IT. (Insert cringe and face reddening now.) I'm standing there scanning, scanning, re-scanning but magically, no card appears out of thin air with our names on it. Our friends are all picking up their place cards, as we stand there with what could only be described as Shit-eating Faces on, awaiting our death sentences.
The poor lady at the card table, surmising what has happened off-handedly mentions there might be extra seats at Table 30. While she was really thinking, "These inconsiderate heels are getting what they deserve!" Fantastic. So as we scurry over to Table 30, I resign myself to kill my husband at the first available moment/break in the music. The rest of the evening is spent staring at the bottom of empty drink glasses and repeating over and over to myself that this is not happening. I also had to avoid the bride and groom like the plague in the fear that we might be called upon as the uninvited guests who ruined the party. Super.
Item number 43 on my list of Things To Do Before I Die: Crash Wedding = CHECK!
At least we look good.