Collect The Moments One By One

Before I can talk about the wedding, I have to properly cover the days leading up to the wedding when we sat back and watched all of our loved ones converge on Cape Cod. It’s surreal seeing different parts of your life collide like that. My best friend from the 2nd grade made friends with my gay BFF. My sister played beer pong with my drinking buddies. My Dad hit on Beau’s pretty cousin. Again.

Brideslave Grasshoppah & sanitary beer pong

The weekend started with a speed bump when our friends gathered on the lawn of their rental house and the landlord didn’t show up to let us in. We busted out the party supplies (namely vodka, leis and a deck of cards) and partied on the front lawn.

Why not? We rented the lawn too.

Though our friends seemed content playing Asshole in the yard, poor Beau was getting distraught and leaving irritated voicemails for the delinquent landlord. I was rapidly approaching the optimum number of red cups for Supreme Levels of Confidence so though we’d made multiple attempts at breaking into the house, I gave it another go. Somehow, the vodka mixed with the Jersey in me and I busted in.

"What if you boost me up to the balcony?" / "Nobody is boosting you anywhere"

After settling in, we all trooped back to the Beau homestead where Mama and Papa Beau hosted a fantastic barbeque, fed us meat and mac’n’cheese, and poured more alcohol down our throats. We returned to the frat house to play drinking games and listen to Sandstorm on loop. At some point, we tried to take a cute picture out front and succeeded only in breaking the fence.

Should have shown up to let us in. Now your fence is busted.

Somewhere around midnight, Beau and I started the mile trek home on foot. We held hands to keep from stumbling into bushes of hydrangeas and to protect ourselves from potential skunks. About a block from his house on a quiet side street, a cop car drove towards us. It did a U-turn at the end of the street, slowly passed us again, and then halted at the stop sign at the end of the block.

“Are we getting pulled over on foot?” Beau hiccupped. I nodded. We were quiet and attempted to be less stumbly as we neared the cruiser. When we were 10 feet away, the trooper opened the door and pointed a flashlight in our eyes. He ascertained that yes, we were coming back from a friend’s house and probably noticed that we were half in the wrapper. Beau waved off his offer of a ride since we were so close to his house. I spent the remainder of the walk scowling at his for passing up the opportunity to arrive home in a cop car. Also, I was in flip flops and didn’t feel like walking anymore.

That was the last unmarried night we spent in the same bedroom.