Brides of March - 2012
It was year three of Brides of March, and here’s how it went:
Saturday, March 17th
All of my friends who were excited about going have bailed. The weather is supposed to be nasty. Also, I have yet to get confirmation about where and when the gathering is. My sister’s awesome dress and newly acquired poofy underskirt take up a corner of the living room, mocking me.
12:45 - My dear darling friend Paul confirms he’s going and knows where the Brides are meeting! Yays! He can give me a ride if I can be ready by 1pm. I can’t possibly, but I know he’ll be late, so I agree and start scrambling.
1:15 - Dressed and ready to go, no sign of Paul.
1:30 - Starting to wonder if I should wait on the front steps, doing my best Miss Havesham awaiting her groom.
1:40 - Paul arrives. His partner Robin is driving and offers to pick us up when we’re ready to go home. Paul isn’t in his dress yet, but says Robin is going to help him get into it when we get to the Brides meeting point.
2:15pm - We find the Brides! Paul strips off his t-shirt and steps into his gown. Robin puts her knee into his back to get it laced up, to much laughter. She slaps the veil on his head, kisses him quickly, and retreats.
We’re starting in a little pub/tavern that’s way too small for us. The regular clientele clearly wants us to leave, except one family who asks us to sing Happy Birthday to Grandma, who is celebrating her 90th. Paul and I down our first drink in less than 10 minutes, because the head bride announces it’s time to move on.
2:45 - On our way to bar # 2, we stop to get married to one of the large face sculptures outside Jen-Weld Field. The new Pastor points out that the face is clearly that of a child, calls us pedophiles, but points out that we’re all “women”, so it’s more socially acceptable.
Bar # 2 is the Marathon. It’s a nice big sports bar. We spread out and get started on our second (or third) round. We share bowls of free popcorn and frighten some of the St. Patrick’s Day revelers. Paul is disappointed with how he fills out his dress, so I stuff his bosom with paper towel. He says it itches, but it’s worth it.
4:00 - Most of the Brides want to walk from the Marathon down to Pioneer Square, but I and a sensible male bride wearing fabulous green sparkly heels decide to take the Max. We’re pulling into Pioneer Square when Paul calls to inform us that the Brides have gotten sidetracked at another bar and an underwear store. Edna and I go to Starbucks for a coffee and hot chocolate. They give Edna his coffee for free because his dress is so beautiful. I spike my hot chocolate with hot pepper vodka from my flask.
4:30 - The Brides land at Pioneer Square. Tourists are both alarmed and amused. We gather around “Umbrella Man” for our second wedding. Someone has brought a helmet with a dildo attached to the front and manages to wedge it onto his head for photos.
From there we go to Porto Terra, a very swanky restaurant/bar attached to the Hilton. They are prepared for us and have set aside a back area with several dedicated servers just for our group. Yeah, right. Instead, we settle in the lobby. The drinks are too expensive, but we have a great deal of fun. Some inappropriate behavior breaks out, but nothing that will get us thrown out. (Though we may not be welcomed back next year.)
5:15 - We go down the block and jump on a Max train to head into NE. We fill most of one car. Someone puts their ipod up to the bullhorn, and we dance and sing along. At each stop, people are afraid to board and hurry to get onto the car in front of ours.
The dildo helmet is being passed around for photos. When I try to adjust it, the sizing ring inside breaks. We call for duct tape, but all anyone has is safety pins.
6pm - We get off the Max in front of the giant statue of Paul Bunyan. He becomes our next husband. Our pastor reads from Song of Soloman, then intones, “Mawwage. Mawwage is wot bwings us togeder today. Wove, twue wove…” We reply, “Skip to the end!”
While this is happening, a woman comes out of the strip club across the street and flashes her fake tits at us. Some of the male brides are impressed. I say, “Mine are nicer than that.” The woman next to me looks down, then back up and says, “Yes, they are.”
6:15 - We go into the strip club across the street. Some of the men already inside run away. Two of the male brides find a shooting arcade game and reaffirm their masculinity. Most of the strippers wander around among us, varying between confused and amused. One confused Paul for a woman, but then notices his copious chest hair.
In the tiny ladies room, only one stall has a door. There is a long line for it. I’ve had nightmares like that, but I have to pee. I decide that I have so much dress (and train, and underskirts) that even someone standing directly in front of my stall won’t be able to see anything. I feel very brave. At least I don’t have to ask someone to help me hold my dress up off the floor, like the woman next to me.
A stripper comes in and seems shocked to find a bathroom full of brides. Inexplicably, she waits for the stall with the door.
7:30ish - Paul and I are feeling ready to call it a night, but decide to go to the next stop, if only to see where it is. This turns out to be Alibi, a tiki bar. As we walk from the Max stop, a bride introduces herself to another bride, who replies, “I know. We talked for about an hour earlier. I picked you up when you fell down in the street.” The first bride shrieks laughter and apologies.
A block later, she falls down in the street.
At Alibi, Paul orders us another round before I can stop him, so I counter with some food. We’ve been at it for several hours, and it’s catching up to us. He calls Robin and tells her we’re ready to go, but she’s almost an hour away. We use the time to finish our drinks, then agree we really didn’t need another. We are pleasantly drunk, though, not falling-down, so fun is still had. The Brides announce that they’re moving on, and we decide to stay there until Robin comes. We wait outside, arm in arm. Another man having a cigarette also mistakes Paul for a woman, but he is profoundly drunk, much more than us, and doesn’t realize his mistake.
9pm - Robin drops me off at home. I am still much, much drunker than I like to be at home. I drink a glass of water and ponder if I’m sober enough to try and get my dress off.
I decide that I’m not. I spend the next half an hour sitting in front of my computer in a huge wedding gown, reading “The Losers” fanfiction.
It was a good day.