Jeff's birthday is in eight days. We usually combine our celebrations, sometimes going on vacation. This year we're throwing a party for Jeff's 50th birthday so we kept our anniversary low key.
I feel lucky to have found Jeff. We're well-matched. We enjoy many of the same things. But we understand that we don't have to enjoy all the same things. We respect each other's choices that we don't share.
Jeff has been a great husband, companion and friend.
I'll share a piece about our wedding day that I included in my memoir writing class.
The Limo from Hell
The morning of Jeff’s and my
wedding, I was waiting in my parents’ den with my sister, Joanna. The limo was
late.
“Sorry, I’m late,” the driver said.
“They gave me the wrong directions to your house.”
Joanna and I settled in the back of
the limo and were on our way. I thought it was odd when the driver passed the
entrance to the Merritt Parkway, but remained silent. After all, he was the
professional.
But when we turned left on Vine
Road, I knew something was wrong. “You’re going the wrong way,” I said.
“No, I’m not,” said the driver. “I
looked up Lafayette Street on the map.”
“But, we’re going to Lafayette
Street in Greenwich, not Stamford.”
The driver pulled the car over to
the side of the road and got out. He began talking to another driver in the
limo ahead of us.
“What’s this—tag team limos?” said
Joanna.
I laughed but my stomach was
churning. “I don’t believe this. I’m going to be late for my own wedding.”
“You’re right; they can’t start
without me.” My giggles loosened the knot in my stomach.
The driver returned and apologized. “They told me the wrong Lafayette Street. I was wondering why I couldn’t find the church.”
Joanna and l looked at each other.
“Jeff picked the limo,” I whispered.
“The limo from hell,” Joanna said.
We hit traffic in downtown Stamford
trying to get on the turnpike. The limo clock read 11:20, but it felt much
later. Joanna rolled down her window and asked a passenger in the next car for
the time: 11:30.
Our driver turned around. “I could
have given you the time.”
Yeah right. “They” probably would
have given him the wrong time, along with the wrong directions and the wrong
Lafayette Street. “They” were pretty incompetent.
We reached the church at 11:50. Many
of the guests had wandered outside. They quickly reassembled as Joanna and I
entered. Even with my lateness, Jeff and I managed to get married on the
upswing of the clock, a good omen according to my new mother-in-law.
After the ceremony as we posed for
pictures, I described my morning to Jeff. He told me that the limo had
originally driven to the church.
“You are the stupidest drivers,” Jeff’s father had said. “Did you expect to find the bride here? You’re supposed to bring her to the church.”
After pictures, Jeff, Joanna and I
returned to the limo with best man Jared and usher Adam for the ride to our
reception. Inside the limo’s mini-fridge was a bottle of champagne.
“Let’s crack that open,” I said. “We
could use it.”
None of us recognized the brand of
champagne. By its taste, we figured it must have set the limo company back by
$1.98 (excluding any volume discounts.)
The car phone buzzed and Jeff talked
to the driver for a few minutes. The
driver told him the champagne wasn’t included and we would have to pay for it.
After all we had been through, the least the company could have done was spring
for a cheap bottle of champagne.
“Sorry.” The driver repeated his
litany, “They gave me the wrong directions.”
“I had to give the driver my credit card number,” Jeff said. “He didn’t believe I paid.”
We headed inside to celebrate. I was
relieved that the ceremony was over and that our limo arrangements did not
include a return trip.
No comments:
Post a Comment