Failure of the Day: How It Went: The Highlights
The first thing that happened: As we sat in the hotel’s atrium courtyard waiting for the ballroom to open and taking advantage of the free happy hour, a former classmate who we’ve neither seen nor spoken to since the mid 80s pointed at us from across some tables and potted plants, mouthed our names, gave me the thumbs up, and mouthed “You finally got him!”
Throughout the evening, we tried repeatedly to surprise someone with the fact of our marriage, but every single person we spoke to—every one—already knew.
Chris spent half the evening telling people that he sells couch insurance, and the other half of the evening babysitting his 7th grade girlfriend while she was too drunk to function in public.
The first words of that same ex-girlfriend to me were: “At the 10 year reunion, everyone thought I was you because I was nursing and my boobs were really big!” She told me that story two more times as the night progressed. Chris is officially avenged for having to deal with two of my (beloved by both of us now) ex-boyfriends as my bridesmaids.
Chris was very popular with the ladies, especially the newly divorced and poorly married ones. Most of them stopped talking to him all but mid-sentence when they spotted his wedding ring. Most.
Almost no one remembered my having curly hair. That’s how big my boobs were.
I had a completely terrific time. I was tipsy as all get out the whole dang time, virtually everyone had gained almost exactly the same amount of weight as I have, and there wasn’t a soul who I wasn’t happy to see either because I liked them or because they seemed to really like me even though I had no idea who they were.
For an evening rife with opportunity for disaster, nothing surprised me more than the complete lack of it. Even the conversation I anticipated two entries ago evaporated into the utterly unnecessary the moment we said hello to each other.
The evening was capped off with door prize drawings, of which I won the grand prize, a one-night stay in an apparently very swank San Jose hotel. How about that.
The first thing that happened: As we sat in the hotel’s atrium courtyard waiting for the ballroom to open and taking advantage of the free happy hour, a former classmate who we’ve neither seen nor spoken to since the mid 80s pointed at us from across some tables and potted plants, mouthed our names, gave me the thumbs up, and mouthed “You finally got him!”
Throughout the evening, we tried repeatedly to surprise someone with the fact of our marriage, but every single person we spoke to—every one—already knew.
Chris spent half the evening telling people that he sells couch insurance, and the other half of the evening babysitting his 7th grade girlfriend while she was too drunk to function in public.
The first words of that same ex-girlfriend to me were: “At the 10 year reunion, everyone thought I was you because I was nursing and my boobs were really big!” She told me that story two more times as the night progressed. Chris is officially avenged for having to deal with two of my (beloved by both of us now) ex-boyfriends as my bridesmaids.
Chris was very popular with the ladies, especially the newly divorced and poorly married ones. Most of them stopped talking to him all but mid-sentence when they spotted his wedding ring. Most.
Almost no one remembered my having curly hair. That’s how big my boobs were.
I had a completely terrific time. I was tipsy as all get out the whole dang time, virtually everyone had gained almost exactly the same amount of weight as I have, and there wasn’t a soul who I wasn’t happy to see either because I liked them or because they seemed to really like me even though I had no idea who they were.
For an evening rife with opportunity for disaster, nothing surprised me more than the complete lack of it. Even the conversation I anticipated two entries ago evaporated into the utterly unnecessary the moment we said hello to each other.
The evening was capped off with door prize drawings, of which I won the grand prize, a one-night stay in an apparently very swank San Jose hotel. How about that.
posted by Nancy @ 7:14 PM
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