A funny thing happened the night before our wedding. The night when you really need your sleep. The hotel put us on the 7th floor, away from all our guests, but one of the highest floors and purported to have a little extra square footage. We’d just settled into bed around 11:30 pm and were winding down with our nightly reads (Weddingbee for me) when it became very obvious that we had an adjoining room. Judging by the commotion, several sugared-up children had just returned and developed a newfound fascination with the shared door. The knob was turned and tugged and the door pounded upon. And it did not stop.
Oh, hell no. Not on our wedding night. Mr. PaC walked down to the lobby, calmly explained the situation to the front desk and returned promptly with a new room key. While dragging my wedding dress down the hall in my pjs at midnight, it occurred to me that even though I was slightly peeved, I was more relieved we’d sleep soundly. As we settled into our new room (by the dinging elevators), Mr. PaC and I joked that we now had our decoy room! His brother hinted at mischief to come once he learned our room number, but now that we had a secret room and we held the only keys, we were safe. A minor success.
We chose to spend the night together in the hotel room. On our own, we would have been given to nervous thoughts and tummy flip-flops. Together was a continuation of our normal routine. Who would be able to comfort and relax me as well as Mr. PaC? We are best friends; no one knows me better. After all, we’d lived together for five years. Separating the night before joining together for the rest of our lives just didn’t make sense.
A special happiness settled in as I programmed my wedding day alarm complete with wedding bells. It finally felt real. And I was relaxed at last.
My wedding bells didn’t have a chance to wake me. The anticipation of the wedding day had woken both of us before the alarm, but I laid in bed waiting for those glorious bells to signal the start of our wedding day. We ordered room service and ate a light breakfast in bed, though my nerves had started to set in and I didn’t have much appetite. A little flutter skipped across my stomach. My head told my tummy to stop it. This day was far too important to be side-tracked with digestive woes.
While assembling our gear, another case of bride brain struck! I had no shoes to wear the morning of. Well, I had shoes: my wedding shoes or the three inch rehearsal heels. Neither were practical or fitting for my casual attire of yoga pants and comfiest tee. Mr. PaC saved the day when he offered me his flip flops. Luckily, we’re close to the same size.
Before leaving the hotel, there was one thing lingering in the back of our minds. While we took care to arrange transportation for all of those around us, we had neglected to make a decision on our own travel arrangements. For lack of options, we were left with one fantastic alternative: Mr. PaC’s mother’s very shiny, very fast, Nissan Z convertible.
Ready for blast off!
Oh, if we must! It worked out perfectly since there were only two seats and no storage space. We had no choice but to hope my dress and his suit would find their own way as we wound through the now-famous countryside with the top down and the radio up very loud!
(all personal photos)
Catch up on our PaC recaps!