Well, tough, I'm going to do it that way anyway. Our trip started on Wednesday, the 12th of July:
Wednesday:
We worked until 2:00, then came home and finished packing. We were on the road by around 4:30. We drove up to Washington, D.C., where once again we struggled with terrible directions. A few days earlier, I'd called the hotel in D.C. to confirm our reservation and get directions from an actual person, since we've had terrible luck with internet map services in the D.C. area.
The directions I'd been given went like this:
"From I-95 North, get onto I-495." Well, 495 goes in two different directions, but I figured I'd just follow signs toward Dulles Airport. And if I went in the wrong direction, it would make our trip longer, but we'd get there eventually, since 495 is a loop. What I didn't count on was that there had been quite a bit of road construction in that area since I last had to be on 495 for any reason, and the sign for Dulles didn't appear until after it was too late to take the first exit anyway. Luckily, we'd guessed correctly and decided to take the second exit anyway.
"From I-495, get onto Rt-267 East." That seemed pretty straightforward, until we saw signs for Rt-267 West, but no corresponding signs for going East. Just as a guess, we took the West exit. Our guesses were confirmed since almost immediately we saw signs for the next part of the directions.
"Get on the Dulles Toll Road." This was actually accurate, and there was no direction to choose, but it was confusing nonetheless, since getting on the toll road involved crossing six lanes of high-speed traffic in less than fifty yards, trying to read signs pointing in every direction imaginable, all with the sun shining directly into our faces and making the signs almost invisible.
"Take exit 9B." When I'd asked the person giving me the directions how much the toll on the Toll Road was going to be, I didn't get a very confidence-inspiring answer, but they were fairly certain that fifty cents figured into it. I'd taken several dollars in quarters, which was good, because it wound up being fifty cents to get on the road, and then thirty-five to get off. We panicked a bit until Matt found a dime to go with one of our quarters, because there was no way to get from the lane we were in to the lane reserved for non-exact change.
Once we got off the Toll Road, the directions to the hotel were fairly accurate, and we checked in with relief after the harrowing traffic. By the time we'd gotten our bags in and moved the car to long-term parking (we left the car at the hotel while we were gone) we were exhausted and hungry. We walked across the street and wound up in a sports bar ironically named "Scrooples". I say ironically because there weren't any in evidence. Our fries that we'd ordered as an appetizer came with our hamburgers, and the waitress waited until my third glass of iced tea to tell me that there were no free refills. (I don't think I've ever been anywhere before that didn't have free refills on iced tea!)
Anyhow, we tromped back across the street after we'd eaten, took showers, set our alarm clock for Way Too Early, and dropped off to sleep.
Thursday:
We got up Way Too Early and dragged our bags to the hotel's lobby to catch the 5AM shuttle over to the airport. The ride was quiet and uneventful aside from the overpowering scent of perfume from the woman in front of me. (Who on earth puts on perfume for an airplane ride? And if you answer "me" to that question, let me tell you: Stop it right now! If you can't stand the idea of being met at the other end of your flight smelling like only yourself, then put the bottle in your carryon and apply it on the ramp! I'm only mildly allergic to perfume, and I was ready to strangle that woman!)
When we checked in at Dulles, we encountered a soft-spoken gentleman with somewhat broken English who made it understood to us that Matt and I would not be taking a single flight from Dulles to Great Falls. I tried to explain that this was the arrangement our travel agent had provided us (a single-stop flight, meaning the plane would land at some point, but that we probably wouldn't get off) but he was confused. There was no such flight, despite my printed itenerary. We'd be flying to Minneapolis/St. Paul, enduring a three-hour layover, and then flying on to Great Falls.
Well, obviously, something had changed between March and July, and this was not the fellow to tell us what it was. At least we did have tickets for both legs of our flight, and somehow we'd gotten first-class seats for the longer first leg, so we didn't complain too much.
We worried a little about whether our rental car reservation would still be held for us in Great Falls - car rental places sometimes cancel if you don't show up within half an hour of your expected landing time. And we wished we could get in touch with our family in Great Falls to let them know we'd be several hours later than planned, but there was really nothing we could do. They'd just have to worry that we were late. At least no one was planning on meeting us at the airport!
A day spent in airplanes and airports isn't worth recalling. When we arrived in Great Falls at 1pm local time (that is, 3pm EST, meaning we'd been up and travelling for about 11 hours) I got off the plane with two priorities in mind: First, going to the bathroom. Second, getting to the rental counter to see whether they still had my car.
I was so intent on those two priorities that it took Matt several tries to direct my attention to the beaming face of my father, who was unexpectedly waiting for us. After I'd hugged him hello, I backed up half a step to see my brother with an even bigger grin. I haven't seen John since Easter, so I gave him a huge hug, and then - unable to ignore my shrieking bladder any longer - headed for the bathroom. Matt called me back and I turned around to see my cousin, aunt, and grandmother, as well. I laughed, and pointed to the bathroom door, promising to return swiftly.
It looked like the entire clan had gathered at the airport. What on earth...? I took care of my first business, then returned to exchanging hugs and greetings with my family. My grandfather, uncle, and mother were already down by the baggage claim area. My dad had indeed come out to the airport to meet us at 10 or 11, and been told about the flight change. He went to the rental car desk to make sure we wouldn't lose our reservations, and the fellow running that counter knew exactly what had happened: apparently, when we'd made our reservations, NorthWest was still on winter scheduling. I was a little irritated that the vastly changed schedule hadn't shown up on the travel agent's computer, but there was nothing for it now. In Minneapolis I had re-verified the rest of our flights, so they were all up to date with no harm done.
The reason the entire clan was there was explained: My aunt and uncle's flight out of Japan (they live in Thailand) had been delayed by five hours, causing them to miss their flight out of Los Angeles. They'd been awake and in the same clothes for almost 48 hours, and had landed less than half an hour before Matt and I. After a little confusion, we got sorted out to follow each other from the airport to the hotel.
John relayed the message from Sam: I was to call her parents' house as soon as possible, to arrange to meet them to get my dress fitted. As far as I was concerned, it was not possible to call anyone until after I'd checked into the hotel and had a chance to breathe for a few minutes. John shrugged, his duty done.
The hotel, it turned out, was the base site for another wedding that weekend, as well as host to a convention and a bunch of rodeo cowboys who were in town for a major event. They had been completely booked the night before, and the cleaning staff was four people short. In short, our room wasn't ready yet, though we could expect one in the next hour or so. We gathered up the family and went out to lunch.
The room was ready - barely - when we got back, and we rested for a few minutes, telling stories and such. John had to go back to the Wynia's anyway, so I caught a ride with him, leaving the keys to my car with my mom. (For reasons almost too complicated to explain, there was a shortage of cars that evening. The reasons involve Bill and Sharon's lost luggage, Sharon's somewhat neurotic turn of thought, and the separate bridal shower and bachelor's party. Apparently, of the three cars we had at the hotel, we were going in four different directions.)
Anyhow, I wound up at the Wynia's, where Mrs. Wynia marked the hem of my dress and I tested the fit. Then I waited around for a while - talking with John and Sam, who came in just as Mrs. Wynia was finishing with me - until it was time for the shower. I caught a ride with Sam to her sister's house just down the street.
I thought my own showers were sortof boring, so I was fairly unexcited about Sam's. Not to insult Sam's sisters, who had obviously put a lot of work into the party, but I'm so shy, I hate being surrounded by a lot of people I don't know, and I'm not very good at small talk. I explained about seven thousand times that I was John's sister and fielded at least four thousand questions about my origins and my career. That was one bonus: Samantha's family are all extremely artistic, in one way or another. Most everyone I talked to seemed to run into a brick wall when I said I was a computer programmer, and they moved on to more creative conversationalists. After a while, my mom approached me. "It's almost nine," she said, "I think we'd better gather up your aunt and grandmother and go." I could hardly believe it. John had said something earlier about how the sun didn't set until around 9:30, but I hadn't really absorbed it. Not only did it not look like 9:00, it didn't look like the sun would set for at least another hour! I was flabbergasted all the way back to the hotel.
I'd meant to wait up for Matt when we got there, but after puttering around a little getting undressed and putting things away, I looked at my watch (which I hadn't reset with the changing time zones) and realized that it was nearly midnight, East Coast time - and that I'd been up since four. I fell into the bed and crashed hard, despite the throaty growling of the broken air conditioner.
Friday:
The hotel window curtains didn't close entirely, and the window faced east. As a result, Matt and I were both awake long before the alarm went off at 8:00. We took our showers and dressed, then trooped down the stairs to find my parents. I got an address from my dad, consulted our map of Great Falls, and we took off for the photography studio.
With John and Sam deciding to live in Great Falls, my uncle's world-travelling job, and my grandfather's steadily declining health, my dad decided we should take advantage of the opportunity presented for a family portrait. We just had one last year, but as Dad said, we never know when the family will be able to all be together again. My uncle's two older children couldn't come, but the photographer thought he could take digital photographs of them and paste them into the family portrait.
The photo session lasted almost two hours, and at 11:45, Sam and I left everyone else chatting amiably and making plans for the men to pick up their tuxedos, and headed to her parents' house. The other two bridesmaids had already arrived, and I finally got to meet the Charity and Jen that I'd been receiving joint e-mail to for months. ("Dear Charity, Jen, and Liz...")
We all piled into Sam's mini-van, and she drove us to a restaurant on the far side of Great Falls (about a 15 minute drive) called "The Lost Woodsman" for the bridesmaid's luncheon. This was a place with character. Everything was decorated in carved wood - statues carved from logs of gold prospectors and indians; elaborately carved doors; chair and table legs that looked like simple bark-stripped wood... Barstools carved in the shapes of horse and mule behinds left us laughing. The food was excellent, and there was plenty of it. If you ever find yourself in Great Falls, I highly recommend the place. We ran a couple of brief errands with Sam after lunch, and were back at the Wynia's around 2:30. I had another brief dress-fitting session, and then was back at the hotel by about 3:30. I relaxed for an hour, and then Matt put his tie back on while I checked my makeup, and we headed to the church for the rehearsal.
We met the wedding coordinator, who struck me exactly like every other wedding coordinator I've ever met - a bossy busybody, which is why I didn't use one. But she was efficient and did her job of getting us organized. The minister was a pleasant older gentleman, humorous and patient - he earned high marks from me by including the three younger girls (junior bridesmaids and a flower girl, aged 8-10 or so) in the ceremony without condescending to them. My mom started crying on the first run-through, and luckily my dad had an extra handkerchief to loan her.
I did have a bit of a confrontation with Sam over the marching order. The extremely logical lineup of attendants at the front of the church left me walking down the aisle with a friend of hers rather than Matt. If Matt hadn't been an attendant, I wouldn't have said anything, but since he was there, we both strongly preferred to walk with each other. Poor Sam, caught up in the pre-wedding stress and frenzy and running on only two hours of sleep, she locked up and couldn't comprehend a change to her plans. Luckily, Sam's mother and the wedding coordinator suggested that Matt and I walk together, but still stand at our assigned positions, and she agreed to that. Actually, I think that actually wound up looking smoother in the long run, because I was the first bridesmaid to appear, while John and my father were both already at the altar when the processional started. Matt coming before the other groomsman prevented a strange hole in the lineup on the men's side. (If that didn't make sense, don't worry about it. No-one looks at attendants anyway.)
It was during the rehearsal that I found out that the church - while sporting a stunningly beautiful sanctuary and enough electronics equipment for a small television studio (they broadcast services, I discovered) - wasn't air-conditioned. In the 95-degree heat, we fanned ourselves in the vestibule and hoped the weather would be more cooperative the next day, because filling the sanctuary with guests would only increase the heat.
After the rehearsal, we went to the country club where the reception was being held. There was some initial confusion generated by the fact that the reservation was in the name of Sam's brother-in-law - the club sponsor - rather than in the name of the wedding. And then they'd set only three tables instead of four. But they moved quickly and set the fourth table, and we sat down to a slow but delicious meal. When we got back to the hotel, it was almost 10:00, and we nearly collapsed into bed, knowing the next day would be very long.
Saturday:
Samantha wanted us at the church by 10:30 so we could be dressed and ready for the photo session at noon. I thought this was almost absurdly early (and because my sense of tact had apparently been left behind in Virginia, I actually said so at one point) but to ease her stress, that's when Matt and I went to the church. To be fair, I'm glad I did, because I was the only one who had a camera while Sam was being made up and dressed, and I got some nice pictures while I was waiting. Charity and Jen arrived just after Sam was dressed, and we oohed and aahed over Sam's dress - which was gorgeous without being overblown - and then dressed ourselves when Sam went up to the sanctuary to begin the three-hour photo session. (Bride and groom at 11, add attendants at noon, and then family arrangements at 1.) Between the three of us, we'd brought everything we needed. We zipped each other into our dresses, shared out knee-high hose (thank goodness for long dresses), traded around nail files and polish, complained mutually about the shoes, and checked each other's makeup.
The photo session was pretty tiring, and I was grateful when I was allowed to escape downstairs into the social hall, which was much cooler than the sanctuary. They'd set up sandwich, cheese, and fruit trays for us, and I grabbed some food and a soda while I eased my throbbing feet and talked with my family.
The clock sped up, and suddenly it was time for us to be lining up in the vestibule. The wedding itself went fairly quickly. I felt pretty conspicuous as I shifted from foot to foot (I never wear dress shoes, and the crunch on my toes was only making things worse) - I was sure I was fidgeting worse than the little girls. While Charity was singing, I felt a lump rise in my throat and then spill over into tears, and I started crying. I'd forgotten to get a handkerchief before the ceremony started, and now it was to late. I wiped my face and tried to sniffle quietly, but I couldn't stop crying. I could see both my dad and Matt across the aisle, and could tell they were both tempted to run over and give me a hanky. The worst moment was when John and Sam turned to face each other for their vows, and John glanced past Sam at me, and I could see tears forming in his eyes as well. He managed to control his, at least, and speak his vows in a clear voice.
It was over quickly after that, and I managed to grab my brother for a hug before heading out to the front steps to see them off. They did something really nifty instead of rice that I've never heard of before - guests leaving the church were given tiny bells on a ribbon, and we rang the bells as John and Sam left.
They left the church in her father's old white convertible, sitting up on the back of the seat so everyone could see them. It was only a few blocks from the church to the reception hall, and my dad told me later he drove maybe 15mph the whole way, and layed on the horn whenever he passed anyone else.
The reception was fairly nice - hors d'oevres and dancing. About the time I was sure it must be getting late, I checked Matt's watch and realized it was only coming up on seven! Things wound down quickly after that, though, and Matt and I headed back to the hotel after giving John and Sam final hugs and farewells. 
There was another wedding in progress at the hotel when we got there, much to our amusement. We changed into more comfortable clothes, and spent the next couple of hours chatting with the family and cooling our aching feet. At one point, I decided I was recovered enough to maybe go across the street to the Dairy Queen and have a cone, but Matt pointed out that the DQ was probably closed at 10. With that realization, exhaustion crashed in again, and we staggered back to our room to sleep. Sunday we spent mostly in transit between Great Falls and Chicago, so there's not much to tell. I'll pick up the story tomorrow with the things we did in and around Chicago. Yes, I'll let you know as soon as I get the photo album up - I took four disks' worth of pictures, so it might be a while!
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