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Saturday, November 26, 2011

Wedding Day

The night before the wedding, Rob sequestered himself to his own room to finish writing his speech and I found myself sitting around sipping fine Scotch with three Brits discussing mountaineering and walking the foot hills in Britain. I felt proper British that night. By the end of the conversation I felt I should've been saying phrases like Poppycock and Govnor.

The wedding went really well. It took place at an old Victorian Schoolhouse that's been converted into a hotel.

The rooms were like palaces. The Windows were 25 feet high and had giant red curtains covering them. The rooms had two floors to them, with the bathroom containing a giant bathtub, shower, and toilet upstairs on the balcony.

I was able to get around fairly well for wearing dress shows the entire time. Sallie and I weren't given the clearest of directions and almost walked past the wedding.

The register that did the ceremony had a fantastic script to read from. I don't know if it was his proper British accent, but it felt really intimate, was beautiful, and the right amount of sentimental.

This took place on the roof of the building. The moment that Lacy started saying her vows, the wind kicked up and the Christmas tree outside the doors came crashing down and all the doors busted wide open. Seemed to be the most perfect way for Lacy to form this union.

Lacy, Rob, Rob's father David, and Rob's brother/best man Richard all gave some fantastic speeches. Some of the best I've heard in a wedding. This also opened up the floor for me to re-tell Cory's epic speech from my wedding to the Brits which is always a great ice breaker.

Today my voice is just about gone. The Brits were in love with my sexy American accent and I often found myself surrounded by them, wanting to discuss politics and World War II. For a solid 5 hour period I was engaged in heavy conversation where most of us agreed, Bush and Tony Blair were sort of diabolical idiots, Churchhill and FDR were probably the greatest politicians in the past century, and depending on who's telling the story, both the Brits and Americans got their asses saved by the other country in various wars.

The night ended for most by 2 am, although there were rumblings of people partying later and someone over heard "butt naked" and "hot tub" this morning.

We're sitting the flat right now. Most people trying to recover. There are no less than 4 sleeping, snoring giants as I look around the room. The only survivors are me, Helen, Chris (Helen's BF), and I think Rob and Lacy might be in a back room counting their loot from last night.

I've had a fantastic time and want to come back and see more of England and possibly hit up Ireland, Scotland, and France. I'm ready to be back in the states and am mentally preparing for waking up at 1 am US time, fly for 9 hours, have a 4 hour lay over in Chicago, fly for another hour, and then take the Metrolink and car ride for the last 40 minutes. Our strategy is to chug Red Bull, try to keep busy by cleaning and preparing for Christmas decorations, and try to stay awake until at least 9 pm tomorrow night.

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