My favorite part of the wedding was at the very end. All of the guests were second line-ing out of the reception, all very drunk and waving their handkerchiefs in time with the jazz quartet. The bride and groom were at the front, and the line curled its way down the steps and through the arcade (shut up_not that kind) and i was wheeling Sarah’s suitcase and purse through the crowd, shoutin comin through! comin through! At this point I was basically a celebrity, which is such a funny thing about big weddings, so everyone was watching me. Or so I imagine. I threw the suitcase into their horse-drawn carriage, squeezed Sarah’s hand, then remembered I forgot her iPhone. So I booked it back to the little green room, in my fancy ass dress, 10 pounds of makeup, and insane hair-don’t, just barely making it over the cobblestones. When I came out, the carriage was pulling away and everyone was waving goodbye and shouting. I held the iphone high in the air, like a baseball fan when he catches a foul ball and shouted to Sarah. She quit kissing Paul and peeked over the back of the carriage and waved to me to start running. I forgot about the crowd and took off down the street, fucking running like i stole somethin. Sarah stood up in the carriage and was cheering me on; I got about half a block before the driver stopped and I got to kiss her goodbye one last time then off they went.
Sarah told me today that she was tempted not to tell the driver guy to stop just so that we could do one of those movie scene hand-offs, like in a League of Their Own when they throw the luggage on the bus. You know you know what I’m talkin about.
