Whoops. I got a bit ahead of myself yesterday. I wasn’t supposed to write about the wedding. I was supposed to write about what happened before the wedding, with The Wedding Date.
The original plan was to wake up at 5:00am, fly to Boston, check in at the hotel and spend the morning at the Salem Witch Museum, thus giving us just enough to return to the hotel, shower, and get ready for the ceremony, which started at 4:30.
Upon arriving in Danvers, however, we discovered that the Salem Witch Museum was closed for repairs.
Alas, there was no culture to be had—unless you decided to count the movie theater near the hotel (which we did not)—so we were left with no other option than to entertain ourselves for the next seven hours.
First we went to Denny’s as opposed to other, slightly-nicer diner nearby because I threw a fit about having whole wheat pancakes and the other, slightly-nicer diner didn’t have whole wheat pancakes according to the man who answered the phone when The Wedding Date called to inquire.
I haven’t been to Denny’s in… well, as long as I can remember. Which is why I was surprised and subsequently delighted to discover that they’ve gone a bit upscale in the interim: not only did they have whole wheat pancakes but they also had turkey bacon and egg whites!
So instead of gorging myself on six billion calories of non-healthy food (you get to pick four options with the Breakfast Slam), I gorged myself on six billion calories of healthy food and took my biscuits to go.
The Wedding Date also decided to save one of his biscuits for later but he did not have the good sense to butter and jelly-i-fy them before leaving the restaurant.
Upon returning to the hotel, I decided it was time to take care of business. Stripping off my boots, I climbed on top of the bed and proceeded to jump, like a five year old, until The Wedding Date practically had a heart attack when he saw just how high I was jumping and begged me to stop.
“You’re gonna hit your head!” he cried.
“No I’m not,” I explained. This is because I’ve jumped on many a hotel bed—so many, in fact, that I’ve gotten it down to a science. If you hold your hand just about your head, you’ll hit your hand first, instead of your head, and then you’ll know to cease and desist and sit down to paint your nails instead.
I’m not sure what exactly happened next… all I know is that around 2pm things got really crazy. So crazy, in fact, that I decided to eat my leftover breakfast biscuits in bed, despite The Wedding Date and his penchant for OCD behavior.
I paid for the hotel room, I told myself, if I want to eat my biscuits in bed, I’ll eat my biscuits in bed.
You can imagine my shock, a few days later, when The Wedding Date called to discuss our plans for the weekend and added, “Guess what I had for breakfast for this morning?”
“Umm… don’t you always have oatmeal for breakfast?”
“Yes, but I ate in the living room!”
“The living room? Are you serious?” This coming from the man who steered me back into the kitchen when I darned to introduce a Tupperware of cookies into his living room on our third date?
“Yep. I figured you’d be proud of me.”
There’s hope for that boy yet.