From the Archives: The Low Point

I left off at Friday night when I had just gone to bed after an amazing bachelorette party. We'll resume the story Saturday morning — the day that it all fell apart. This seems to be a trend among the other bloggers who are recapping right now too. So I guess take this as a warning that the day before your wedding is going to be down right shitty.

I woke up feel hung over. A bagel from room service was ordered. Got dressed and headed back to our wedding hotel. And that was when I discovered Mr. Beagle was sick. Actually, sick is an understatement. The man had alcohol poisoning. Apparently after the ladies left to go dancing the night before, a few of the guys decided Mr. Beagle wasn't drunk enough for their tastes. Irish car bombs were ordered. Multiple. And then there was vomiting. A lot of vomiting.

So I found Mr. Beagle the next morning in his brother and sister's hotel room covered in his own vomit. He had broken blood vessels in the inner corners of both eyes. He was not cooperating with me — I honestly think he was still drunk. I tried to stay call but panic started building. How in the world was I going to get him ready to go, herd his family to the L to go to the rehearsal lunch, and get him to the rehearsal too. Oh and the fact that Mr. Beagle's dad's car had broken down the day before and was just kind of hanging out somewhere in the city loomed over us.

Luckily my best woman Louis Lane was able to drive. Mr. Beagle had to hang his head out the window, much like a pup. But it wasn't because he was enjoying the ride. We still owe her a car wash.

Somehow we all arrived at the rehearsal lunch — many of us got there a little late. Mr. Beagle and I had to stop at his car along the way and pick up the wedding party gifts we forgot about. It was over 90 degrees outside with super high humidity, and we were supposed to sit in the beer garden. Unfortunately neither Mr. Beagle, in his condition, nor his father, who was in the middle of chemo at the time, would be able to handle the heat. Thank goodness the restaurant was able to move us in, and pushed like 10 tables together to accommodate us. They got a big tip.

The rehearsal lunch for the most part ran smoothly. Mr. Beagle couldn't keep anything down, including water, so he did not eat or drink. There were a few tense moments, like when our Episcopal priest and my dad started talking about Catholicism and my mom did not seem amused. But no major issues arose. We thanked our friends and families for helping us, and our parents got to know our priest.

I must give credit where credit is due. I got the idea to do a rehearsal lunch from Ellie. It was such a smart idea. Not only because I'm sure Mr. Beagle could not have lasted a full day (which was of course not foreseen), but also because my patience hadn't been pulled too thin yet, and I could still deal with the big group of people.

After lunch, Mr. Beagle's dad headed back to the hotel. He had had all he could handle for the day. The rest of us walked half a mile up to the rehearsal site and met up with Cindy Savage, day of coordinator extraordinaire.

It took longer than I expected to run through the rehearsal. It was hot. We were all dripping sweat. The microphones were giving off a strange, static feedback that they hadn't done previously. Mr. Beagle had forgotten his laptop with the ceremony music, but luckily I had it on my iPhone. By the power of Cindy, our priest Julianne, and myself, we figured out how we would walk in, where people would stand, etc., etc. Did I mention were were sweating buckets?

Throughout all this, Cindy and Julianne remarked that I was the most organized and laid-back bride they had encountered. Considering the circumstances, I'm quite proud of that. I can only thank Becca for her logistical post, which is what helped keep me organized, and all the other bloggers who I've followed for giving me a heads up about rolling with the punches. I made decisions when I felt something specific but left many other things up to the others' who had good eyes. I mean, when you get married in a public space that you don't have a permit for, you have to be prepared for anything and accept it.

After the rehearsal, people were dispersing. Mr. Beagle needed to move his car from where it was currently parked or he'd be ticketed. I had the keys in my purse. But wait, I didn't have the keys. And that was when I broke. I started crying. Just another thing to add to the stress. Thankfully they were found in Louis Lane's car 15 minutes later, but it was a stressful 15 minutes. Mr. Beagle left with his family. I went to church with my mom, dad, Louis Lane, and her fiance. After we had to track down one of our readers because I had forgotten to give her a day pass for the L to be used on the wedding day.

When we returned back to the hotel, Mr. Beagle admitted he had thrown up some more. Were things ever going to turn around, I wondered. He left to move his car and drop off his laptop with our friend who was acting as our music technician. It was getting late already. I sat down for the first time all day to breathe and cry a little.