Sunday, May 10, 2009

Perfect Day

Our wedding day was nothing short of perfect.

The weather was absolutely beautiful, with the sun peeking out of the light clouds, basking the ocean waters with flecks of light, as the waves crashed against the rocks and lapped onto the light brown sand. The sounds of rustling leaves and calling seagulls permeated the waves moving onto the shore. It was pure nature, in its raw and most beautiful form, as the backdrop to our wedding.

The ceremony was moving and emotional, given most beautifully by the officiant. Our selection of recessional music, "Let's Get It Started" by Black Eyed Peas, elicited amused giggles from our friends and family who attended. And the reception dinner was nothing short of awesome -- food that was to die for, a cake that shocked even myself at its intricacy and beauty, and a guest appearance by some frolicky sea otters, swimming and playing in the Monterey Bay in full view of our party, which was seated beside the sweeping windows of the restaurant.

To everyone who attended, everything went beautifully. However, it was not without its crises beforehand.

The first issue was my dress. It is a unique and beautiful shape and design, however it had to be modified to fit my short 5'3" frame. On my third -- and supposedly final -- fitting, it was just not right. There was some material bunching up by my hip, that made it looked wrinkled. The seamstress promised to have it ready by the next day (Thursday), and I returned that day to retrieve it. However, it sill did not fit properly.

"Well," I told her, "You have to fix it today. We are leaving for Monterey tomorrow, and I need to take my dress tonight." She promised to make that possible.

Three hours, and five more try-ons later, and she finally fixed the issue to my satisfaction. I am not a seamstress, and do not understand what the hell the problem was, but this was a whole boatload of stress I did not need that day.

The second issue was dinner on Friday night. The plan was to gather my two sisters and their families, my parents, Danny's sister and her family, and us, and go to a nice Italian restaurant in Monterey. I made reservations, printed out Mapquest directions from the hotel (including the phone number for the restaurant), and handed them to each family unit. We all headed out in time for 7pm.

Everyone made it there, except my parents.

We tried calling them, to no avail. My dad, who has always been frugal and smart with money, had his phone off. A Canadian cell phone, receiving and making calls in the US, would rack up an astronomical bill. My father did have a U.S. pay-as-you-go phone, but had not yet put minutes on it. As a result, the parental units were unreachable. So we waited. And waited. And snacked on bread and appetizers.

One hour later, and Danny's sister and her family had to leave, as their baby started having a meltdown of extreme proportion. They took a very bored Daniel with them, leaving Danny and I and my two sisters waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more.

Finally, an hour and a half after the scheduled time, I received a call from my father.

He and my mother were at the wrong restaurant.

They had a GPS, and the printed directions from me, but even so, they ended up at the wrong restaurant.

As it turns out, my brother-in-law had mentioned this other restaurant as a place that he wanted to go sometime, and my parents had confused that with the place that we were supposed to go to that night. Over the phone, I gave them the address to the correct establishment, and finally, they made it there. Two hours after the scheduled time.

All was well in the world, when we finally had some most delicious and quite authentic Italian food in our stomachs, and when we met the very nice manager who was also Italian, with whom my dad had a spirited conversation in his native language.

And the final issue was the day of the wedding.

I had booked a nice spa pampering for my sisters, myself and Jacqueline, at a place called "Spa on the Plaza" in Monterey. On the wedding morning, my father dropped us all off at a Cannery Row hotel with a huge sign that said "Monterey Plaza Hotel and Spa".

It was the wrong place.

And, because my father still hadn't added minutes to the phone, I had no way to contact him. The mix-up was completely was my fault; I had just assumed that it was the right place, because the names were so close. But they were, in fact, two different establishments.

We pleaded with the concierge to call us a taxi, and he did one better -- he drove us there himself. We gave him a hefty $40 tip for his kindness.

Once in the spa, and halfway through my hairdo, I also realized I had forgotten my hair clips. My most awesome husband-to-be was kind enough to bring them there. And if that wasn't enough stress for the day, my brother-in-law had taken the only van to go golfing, and left my parents with the car, which did not have enough room to transport us all.

So Danny and my other brother-in-law had to drive us around in separate cars from the spa, to lunch, and back to the hotel.

But it all worked out in the end. The day was as perfect as it possibly could have been.

After the reception, and walking back to the car, I said to Danny, "You know, all the stress and crises before our wedding was all worthwhile. It was worth it, because our day was perfect."

He agreed. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

I am the happiest person in the world right now.

Even if the entire day had been a disaster, I'd still be ecstatic. At the end of the day, no matter what, I am married to the love of my life.

And that's all that really matters.


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