No Chicken Dance, but One Chicken Hat

We're finally on vacation now for almost a week and I've hardly had a chance to stop and think about being on vacation. I arrived and my luggage did not. As I was packing in Philadelphia I told my husband that I would pack half of my clothes in one suitcase and half in the other. That way if one was lost we would both have clothes. As usual he was slow to pack and I ended up packing everything in one suitcase. Naturally both of his arrived safely and both of mine were lost. It took us several hours and as many phone calls to find it. So, I attended my brother-in-law's civil marriage luncheon in jeans and a hoodie. I'm American I suppose they'll forgive me.

The wedding went off without a hitch, which was a huge relief. I also happened to find the only three English people at the wedding to make nice with. We had also agreed to give the English folks a ride to the church and given that we only had our typical European rental (read: car big enough for 2 adults and a cat) we had to stuff them all in the backseat. In typical fashion we arrived at 10:59 for an 11:00 wedding. Ordinarily this would be fine but we had to shuffle up to the front row while an entire Church watched. As luck would have it, the bride was late as well so it wasn't tragic.

The entire service was in a language I do not speak or understand so I only had people watching to entertain me. There are a finite number of people in front of you when you're forced to sit that close so it was a bit of an art form to surreptitiously sneak looks around the sides. The highlight of my church experience was the cello player. I'm not sure if she had a sinus problem or a cocaine habit, but the snorting noises were terrifyingly loud. Each time she brought the bow across the strings she would sound like a Hoover.

After service I tottered back down the stone hill in my impossible shoes to stuff back in the tiny little car with the three English people and ride back to the castle for the afternoon reception. It really was a lovely place. The castle has a multitude of functions, including serving as the set for a soap opera. Its less glamorous and curious purpose is a nursing home for old spinsters of nobility. I'm glad I didn't know that until after the fact. I think I would have felt a bit like I was being watched by nuns as I was slugging back champagne and trying not to fall over in the rocks in my hat. Speaking of hats, there were several worth mentioning. One had so many feathers that it looked like a chicken had found it's way onto her head and fallen asleep. Luck for us she had a matching chicken handbag. Another was dressed head to toe in a pink and green ensemble. She looked a bit like an Easter egg. My husband's brother's girlfriend commented that it was fairly typical of the area she lives in the South. It must be a rule that that Southerners are crazy everywhere.

Afterwards I went back to our room to sleep off the fog I had been slurring around in. My dear husband on the other hand felt it prudent to continue drinking with his friend. They both stumbled in to dress 30 minutes before dinner. I of course was ready and had even less sensible shoes than the previous event. His friend and I teetered back over the rocks to the castle, I because of my shoes, he because of the large quantities of alcohol.

My dinner date was a very nice college friend of the bride. As we sat down he told me that he was looking forward to sitting with me because he was told I was very funny. No pressure... Across from me was an older gentleman who was married to an American for many years. It was a bit like talking to my grandmother as I had the same conversation with him three times. On the other hand, three identical conversations in English is better than none at all.

There were several highlights of the evening. There was a girl with a dress that was reminiscent of JLo's famous dress that hardly covered the goodies. The DJ told us she was taped up like a Christmas package. Apparently he got a good look. Later in the evening my husband's friend accidentally threw her into a potted plant. This is not at all surprising since earlier in the evening he whipped me around so fast that I accidentally flew out of my dress. Thankfully I have a quick hand and was able to rectify the situation before I became wedding fodder on the Internet. Much later in the evening my brother-in-law did an interpretive dance to Robbie Williams. It was a cross between having a seizure and channeling a large bird. Perhaps he was inspired by the hat earlier that day.

We drank until about 6AM at which time I realized that I was only going to get about 4 hours sleep before I had to get up and play nice at brunch. Ugh.... This wouldn't have been problematic except for the fact that I had only gotten 4 hours the night before as well. This trend continued for three days when the following morning we got up at 7AM to drive a friend to the airport. We soon discovered the bomb squad had been called in. In typical fashion they had evacuated one terminal while the other continued along as if nothing was wrong. Perhaps they figured the EZ Jet people wouldn't mind getting blown up? That's what you get for flying discount.

Tomorrow we're off for our vacation from our vacation.