In my defense, I had just spent seven and half hours in a car with ML, vacillating between sleeping, reading Twilight, begging ML to pull over so I could get a fucking cup of coffee and threatening bodily harm when he kept ‘missing’ the rest stop exits.
Let me explain something about myself here. I have the uncanny ability to fall asleep immediately in any moving object, whether it be a car, plane, or train. The only people who seem to have a problem with this are the NJ Transit train conductors; they seem pretty irritated when they have to shake the seats to wake me up and get me the fuck off of their train.
For what it's worth, everyone else is thankful that I'm asleep because I can't do the following when I'm unconscious:
So, in short, I'm a really obnoxious fucking passenger [note from STY: yup, it's true! Which is why I try to drive like as much of a maniac as semi-legally possible every time she is in the car with me. ML would concur that it's impossible not to mess with her when she's strapped helplessly into the passenger seat].
I'm so used to hanging around with myself and a bunch of other ornery nutsuckers that I'm always amazed when people are genial and outgoing. Frankly, I get a little suspicious. As a general rule, the only reason a stranger would approach me would be to ask for money, take my money, or murder me. Or all of the above.
True story: I was standing at the bar waiting to get a drink when this older couple offered to buy me a shot. The fuck? They weren't part of the wedding crew (I asked them) and they said I just looked like I needed a shot. I mean, did I look that uptight? If so, it was probably because when they said 'would you like a shot?', I heard 'we're going to drug you, drag your inert body back to our cabin in the woods and torture you until we bore of your orifices and find a new victim. Then we'll dump your body into the river and no one will ever, ever figure out what happened to you. Muhwawawa!'
What can I say, I'm paranoid. Genuinely nice, generous people arouse my suspicion. And yes, I took the shot. Because potential consequences be damned, who can turn up a free
Everyone we met was absolutely awesome, which made it hard for me to be my snarky self because... I kinda felt bad. I mean, I couldn't even be mean to the guy with the funny accent who told me I had a funny accent. Who knew? Guess I am growing a conscious.
While I may have developed in the conscious department, my idea of responsibility was apparently still in its infancy because the night essentially ended like this:
Mooooore vodka, pleeeeeash. Ish a weddi(hiccup!)n and I'm shelerbratin...
Regardless, I managed to drag myself out of bed at a semi-reasonable hour, choke down the BEST FUCKING BREAKFAST I've ever had and get ready for the festivities in record time and was waiting eagerly when the shuttles arrived. Which was a school bus.
As we rattled and rolled our way toward the ceremony site, I leaned over to ML.
“Can I take pictures of Edward during the ceremony?” I whispered to ML. He paled visibly and shook his head.
So, I waited until the reception, when ML was otherwise engaged with a beer and another wedding guest to sneak Edward out for some photo shots. The ceremony took place in this beautiful meadow and there were ponds and rolling fields...
Rolling fields (sort of)
Little foot bridge that I almost fell off of into the squishy scary stuff below. AND I was sober. Maybe I'm more like Bella than I think...
I don't dance. I flail. ML and I are one of those weird couples in that the dude likes to dance and the chick... prefers not to embarrass the shit out of herself.
Sure enough, as soon as I started jerking my hips around and shuffling my feet people started nodding encouragingly to me, like you would to a small child or someone mentally and physically incapacitated who is trying to do something obviously out of their league. I continued to move like I was in the throes of a full blown seizure for two whole songs before trying to skulk off, only to be thwarted by ML and forced to continue my demented gyrations for another song or four before I finally fled the crime scene, leaving my dignity twitching feebly on the dance floor.
"Hey, ML," I said, yawning.
"Don't you dare ask if we can stop for coffee," he replied tersely. "We haven't even left the parking lot."