Finally the day had come when my baby sister and her long-term boyfriend announced to eagerly awaiting friends and family that they were going to tie the knot! Accolades went round, drinks were bought to celebrate and my parents radiated a combination of joy and trepidation. Then came the next big question when my sister queried of me, “Will you be my Maid of Honor?” Of course I gladly accepted the role, after all, I've been a bridesmaid numbers of times and even took a trip down the aisle myself once upon a time.
How hard could it be, right? As it turns out a midnight break from the maximum security of San Quentin might in the end not only be easier, but less stressful as well.
After being asked to take the responsibility of being my sister's second in command (or the “Go to Girl” which is really just a kind phrase that translates into “indentured servant”) I was shocked to discover that I was going to have to work for my title. The bridesmaid position is cake, you get fitted for a pre-picked dress, you show up at a bridal shower and possibly a bachelorette party, and on the big day your primary goal is not to trip or get your dressed tucked into your underwear.
You bounce along unwitting as to the three ring circus encompassing the Maid of Honor (or the MOH as I like to refer to myself). Life is good. But the position of the MOH is a world unto itself. A presidential campaign cannot compare to the harried existence that becomes the MOH's life.
My first duty as MOH was to take my sibling (whom we'll refer to from this point as Bridecula because she is sucking my will to live) to the local bookstore where we could kind of get a feel for this whole “wedding thing”. For some reason I have managed to blackout my own wedding (and come to think of it the short-lived marriage as well). I had no idea that a wedding was not as simple as going to a church where you repeat some phrases while exchanging grossly expensive jewelry before slipping off to get hammered with your friends.
A wedding today is an event, the everyman's equivalent to the Super Bowl or the Oscars. A wedding is the one shot you have to show off to your friends and family how good your taste is, how fabulous your fashion sense is, and how good you are at begging your parents to spend money on things as meaningful as candy bars wrapped in foil with the perfect picture of you and your beaux impressed upon it (I'm not making this up, this is popular at baby showers as well where you can make Twix bars into Twins bars with some fancy paper and tape).
The wedding section of the local book barn is shelves and shelves of “how-to” books: “Weddings for Dummies”, “The Idiots Guide to Being a Groom”, “Getting Married on $3,000 a Day”, and so on and so forth. Not to mention there is a plethora of organizers, calendars, and binders all designed to keep the brides ideas in line while she tracks the money she has spent on tulle for decoration.
After a frenzied fifteen minutes (we got there right before the store closed) we settled on several books, a ton of magazines and $158, 4 donuts, and 2 strawberry milks later we found ourselves sitting on my big bed slogging through the wealth of information before us. I learned a valuable lesson that day; the same information is on the Internet, for free.
My next duty as the MOH was to pass on worldly advice to Bridecula, namely book the venue for the ceremony and the reception yesterday. This advice came in handy as the date she had her heart set upon ten months into the future was already booked at every respectable church and hall in town.
So, my next step was to either help her pick which non-reputable establishment to engage for the festivities or talk into her into Plan B (a different date). Plan B won out, although I was kinda warming up to the idea of having the reception at a bar where there most likely would not be a $10 fee to take the cork out of the champagne bottles (that's per bottle).
The new date was booked for the reception and the decided spot was secured with a small deposit (the down payment on my car was less than the deposit). Now came the matter of the church. Bridecula and her intended were both raised in the same church so they believed the matter of booking said church would be relatively painless. Well, three appointments, two arguments, and one furious tete-a-tete with the minister later they decided to not have a church wedding and settled upon the idea of an outdoor venue instead.
