In my last post, I recounted the heartbreaks I incurred through venue searching. First I had to just say no to a downtown Chicago loft wedding, and then I had to say sayonara to the suburban version of an urban loft wedding. At this point, I was quite literally out of options.
This is my “at my wits end” face.
I went back to the drawing board (or the Google Docs, if we’re being literal) and revamped my list. I started looking at hotel ballrooms and banquet halls, even ones that hadn’t been updated since the ’90s, even ones that had a marquee near the road saying “Congrats Kurt and Trudy.” I looked at country clubs, museums, outdoor/tent receptions, even restaurants. I looked at expensive places and cheap places, places that considered bread and butter to be one of the courses in their five-course meal package, places that included a single carnation on each table as the centerpiece, and places that would throw in a chocolate fountain for free, just for me (but don’t tell anyone). I looked at places near my house, near Mr. Unicycle’s parents’ house, near the airport, near my office, and beyond—pretty much a 15-mile radius from as far southeast as Chicago to as far northwest as this place.