Oli gets Married, Chapter 4

Goin’ to the chapel and we’re
Gonna get me-heh-herried

But not before taking some fantastic pictures, for surely.

Pictures are what drive every about-to-get-married couple. Some would argue that it’s all about the video, but I totally disagree. Unless Oliver Stone and his Panavision rentals are a part of your guest list, the majority of wedding videos are dated and sad. Do you really want to watch dozens of desperate women trample each other for a bouquet, over and over again?

Oli and Corey didn’t have a videographer, but instead spent that extra dough on a great photographer. And, they (thankfully) decided to eschew the traditional route of only taking pictures together during and after the ceremony.

This meant that Corey got ready at our house that morning, and that yes, he did see his bride before the wedding. I’m sure many of you are clapping your hands to your mouths in horror, the horror at the bad luck that could only entail, but we’re not talking about traditionalist people, remember?

Besides, think about it. Does seeing a woman in a white dress before a priest is in front of you really mean you’re doomed to a lifetime of bad luck? Preposterous. We don’t think so, either.

After zipping Oli into her gown, I got my own heels on and followed the entire wedding party, parents, and all associated relatives and beings present out of the house, down the driveway, and onto the waiting bus.

A bus? Yes, darlings, we were carted to photos and the wedding by bus.

Wait, you’re saying, where’s the limo? Aha! Non-traditionalist! Oli and Corey rented a city bus!

Not being a car owner, I take the bus. A lot. I really hate it, too, the bloody things moves slow, gets stuck in traffic and on hot summer days, is a really crappy means to get around.

Now, imagine having a brand-spanking new, freshly cleaned city bus just for you and some of the people that you love best, complete with Awesome Eddie, certified bus driver, at your service. You’re dressed to the nines, everyone is chatting away, you and a couple of flower girls are waving at passing traffic and laughing at everyone’s bewilderment because you just know they’re all thinking, “Why on earth is a bride taking the bus?”

It’s a more efficient limo alternative, you can fit a lot more people, it’s seriously cool and let me assure you, a heck of a lot of fun.

What wasn’t fun were my undergarments issues, because it was somewhere here that I realized what a pain in that ass that La Perla corset was going to be, or as I fondly nicknamed it later on, La Piece of Crap. Well to be fair it wasn’t the corset’s fault, but more the combination of La Boobs and La Dress working ineffectively with La Perla/Piece of Crap to make me not a Marilyn Monroe, but a very sad Madonna fan.

To be frank, about an inch of black was peeking above the lines of the dress, so everyone could see it. If I didn’t want to look trashy and easy in the pictures, I had to keep pulling the flippin’ thing down.

First stop, the Music Garden. This is a fancy name for a patch of downtown property with inordinate amounts of grass. Hard to find that in the city, you know. There was also a gazebo, some gardens, and music references posted on signs here and there. We posed our asses off, and took pictures. I pulled my corset down. We got our heels stuck in the mud, had to make room for a second wedding party, and tackle down Jinny and Joy when they saw their father arrive, screamed, “DADDY!” and took off running through a mud pit. I pulled my corset down.

Second stop, funky downtown glass sculpture. Walked in and out of the maze-like panes. I pulled my corset down. Did not cut any of my fingers on the edges, but whacked an elbow. Thanked my stars it wasn’t my head. I pulled my corset down.

Walked across the quad, to funky copper and steel sculptures. I pulled my corset down. Arranged ourselves creatively, and smiled away. I pulled my corset down.

Walked over to fountain across the street. I pulled my corset down. Huffed, “This fucking thing is driving me mental!” without realizing that little Jinny was behind me. Upon hearing her gasp in shock at her auntie’s unabashed mention of the F-word, talked to Jinny about the importance of keeping secrets.

Posed prettily by the fountain. Wanted to rip my corset off and drown it in the water, but settled for pulling it down. Got back on the bus. Pulled corset down.

Laughed when I saw my sister pull her own corset down. Neither of us is talented in the chest area.

Motored off to the brewery. Now it was time to get married.