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Unbeliever's wedding
I got back recently from the wedding of Reed Byers (aka Unbeliever), who used to post in alt.callahans a few years back, and who I lived with for a few years before that.
Here follows the saga:
Airport security checks have gotten less strenuous lately, but they seem perhaps less random than I'm led to believe. Both guys ahead of me in line, who looked like they were hitchhiking across the country, got pulled for spot searches at the gate, and most of the others who were tapped seemed to be attractive women.
After my plane landed in Portland, while I was waiting for one of the other groomsmen to arrive, I called Reed's cell phone. I heard him pick up, and in his most plaintive voice say: "I am getting my nails done, I have only got my hands free for a second, I will call you LATER ."
End transmission...
When Dwight (the other groomsman) landed, I told him about this, and asked if we should hassle Reed, or cut him some slack. After some consideration, he allowed as how some hassling might be in order - and when he phoned Unbeliever to let him know we were both safely in, Dwight opened with, "So, how are the nails?"
(Later, after Reed found out I'd been the one on the receiving end of his brief rant, he apologized profusely, explaining that he'd thought I was someone else ...which I had deduced for myself about halfway through the original call. I told him I was amused, not offended, but that I was happy to give the anecdote wide coverage regardless. So there 'tis).
I had a brief bad moment renting a car, when I realized that a) I'd not reserved one ahead of time, and b), the lines at the rental flea market were out the door. But I found a place that was willing to rent me a mid-size, and was also apparently willing to write down a different vehicle number than I actually drove off with. More on that later.
Dwight has known Reed, I think, a bit longer than I have, but I've only met him once or twice before. We had a pleasant drive from Portland to Albany, passing a sign for the OMSI museum which caused nice flashbacks to my childhood. (I used to live near Portland, but haven't been back for years. The OMSI was one of my favorite places to go; it had lots of hands-on exhibits, along with a model of the human heart large enough to walk through. I understand they've changed locations, but I'm thinking that their voice synthesizer probably didn't make the move. It was the size of a kitchen table back in the seventies, with little buttons for each phoneme, and could be replaced by a floppy disk now).
I'd not seen Reed for perhaps five years, ever since the wedding of Phaedrus (also formerly of alt.callahans). He and Angela have been together a couple of years now, ever since their first date - which, the story goes, lasted about twenty-four hours. (They talked on the phone into the wee hours one night, then got together early the next morning to attend a convention, then she followed him to a theater production he was doing sound for). Angela was as nice in person as on the phone - I talked to her during Reed's hospital stay last year, so basically I've only communicated with her during stressful maelstroms, and she's exhibited grace under pressure both times.
I was pleased on this trip to meet not only Reed's bride, but also a couple of Callahanians: Pat Kight (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kightp ) and John Palmer (johnpalmer ). I've been instructed to report that Pat and John were not cute - so, uh, they evinced no cuteness at all. Nope, none, nada. And if John hadn't bribed me with hot wings, I couldn't have been talked into hoodwinking the public... I feel so dirty :>
Getting prepped for the ceremony went fairly smoothly. Our tuxes fit, mostly, and we knew how to put them on ...mostly. We spent some time in a dressing room wondering why the tux shirts buttoned up with four studs, if only three were visible above the vest, and the colored handkerchiefs almost defeated us. We were each given one burgundy and one forest green piece of cloth; these were intended to stick out of our breast pockets in some sort of debonair, James Bond, folded-napkin arrangement, but none of us could summon the origami skills needed to make them look good. We'd about decided that as long as they were all folded the same way, it didn't matter if they were wrong, exactly - then Reed's mother showed us how to do it, averting certain disaster. But while I clean up pretty good, I still think the bridesmaids wearing tuxes looked better in theirs than I did.
As for the wedding itself, it was memorable, for more reasons than you might expect. One of the musical selections was the theme from "Greatest American Hero", which was the first and only song I ever heard Reed play on the piano, over a decade ago. Another was "I'm Under Your Spell", otherwise known as the wicked lesbian love song from the musical episode of "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer". One of the readings was a quote from "Babylon 5"; another was an explanation of secular humanism. (That last was incorporated into the ceremony to make a point, as several members of Angela's family apparently boycotted the wedding because it was non-religious. Feh - this is a good topic for a rant, but I'll save it for another time).
Did I mention that many of Reed's friends work with him in the theater? The reception took place in the same room as the ceremony. When we led the crowd out into the foyer after the vows, the theater folk closed the doors, conducted a scene change, and let us back in a few minutes later.
The reception snacks were nice - the wedding cake didn't quite get tipped over before it had a chance to be served, and the tables were scattered with little mirrored hearts that looked like ball bearings, but were edible. The punch was served in large clamshell bowls, frozen into orange rings of ice about the size and shape of bundt cakes.
The trip back was also somewhat interesting. I left Albany at oh-dark-thirty, so that I'd get to the Portland airport early. Then wacky hijinks ensued. The lady at the quick check-in for the rental car told me there was some hiccup, and I'd have to visit the actual counter downstairs. No problem, thought I; my flight doesn't leave for forty-five minutes, and I'm not checking any luggage.
At the counter, the lady told me that my paperwork didn't match up with the vehicle I'd brought back. She'd look into it, but it might take her a while - could I come back later, or could she perhaps call me? I went to the ticket counter to fetch my boarding pass, then came back, to see the same counter agent getting chewed out by another customer and her family. When they were done with her, I gave her my phone number and took hers, then boogied for my gate, with fifteen minutes to spare.
Passing through security, my backpack got flagged as being too full of metal objects. I was asked if it could be unpacked, then watched them send the contents through their X-ray machine three, count-em three, times. In the meanwhile, no-one asked me to take off the boots I was wearing, but they did X-ray the open-toed sandals of the next woman in line. By the time I got to my gate, it was empty, and they were calling my name. I made it back to Dallas in one piece, however, and got my rental car snafu straightened out over the phone.
Overall, a good time - as I told Reed, it was pleasant to only be a witness at someone else's chaos.
Some of my (low-quality, taken with a disposable camera) pictures are available here:
http://www.concentric.net/~erick/byers/
Higher quality versions are available courtesy of the bride, here:
http://www.visitations.com/wedding/wedding/
Here follows the saga:
Airport security checks have gotten less strenuous lately, but they seem perhaps less random than I'm led to believe. Both guys ahead of me in line, who looked like they were hitchhiking across the country, got pulled for spot searches at the gate, and most of the others who were tapped seemed to be attractive women.
After my plane landed in Portland, while I was waiting for one of the other groomsmen to arrive, I called Reed's cell phone. I heard him pick up, and in his most plaintive voice say: "I am getting my nails done, I have only got my hands free for a second, I will call you LATER ."
End transmission...
When Dwight (the other groomsman) landed, I told him about this, and asked if we should hassle Reed, or cut him some slack. After some consideration, he allowed as how some hassling might be in order - and when he phoned Unbeliever to let him know we were both safely in, Dwight opened with, "So, how are the nails?"
(Later, after Reed found out I'd been the one on the receiving end of his brief rant, he apologized profusely, explaining that he'd thought I was someone else ...which I had deduced for myself about halfway through the original call. I told him I was amused, not offended, but that I was happy to give the anecdote wide coverage regardless. So there 'tis).
I had a brief bad moment renting a car, when I realized that a) I'd not reserved one ahead of time, and b), the lines at the rental flea market were out the door. But I found a place that was willing to rent me a mid-size, and was also apparently willing to write down a different vehicle number than I actually drove off with. More on that later.
Dwight has known Reed, I think, a bit longer than I have, but I've only met him once or twice before. We had a pleasant drive from Portland to Albany, passing a sign for the OMSI museum which caused nice flashbacks to my childhood. (I used to live near Portland, but haven't been back for years. The OMSI was one of my favorite places to go; it had lots of hands-on exhibits, along with a model of the human heart large enough to walk through. I understand they've changed locations, but I'm thinking that their voice synthesizer probably didn't make the move. It was the size of a kitchen table back in the seventies, with little buttons for each phoneme, and could be replaced by a floppy disk now).
I'd not seen Reed for perhaps five years, ever since the wedding of Phaedrus (also formerly of alt.callahans). He and Angela have been together a couple of years now, ever since their first date - which, the story goes, lasted about twenty-four hours. (They talked on the phone into the wee hours one night, then got together early the next morning to attend a convention, then she followed him to a theater production he was doing sound for). Angela was as nice in person as on the phone - I talked to her during Reed's hospital stay last year, so basically I've only communicated with her during stressful maelstroms, and she's exhibited grace under pressure both times.
I was pleased on this trip to meet not only Reed's bride, but also a couple of Callahanians: Pat Kight (
kightp ) and John Palmer (johnpalmer ). I've been instructed to report that Pat and John were not cute - so, uh, they evinced no cuteness at all. Nope, none, nada. And if John hadn't bribed me with hot wings, I couldn't have been talked into hoodwinking the public... I feel so dirty :>Getting prepped for the ceremony went fairly smoothly. Our tuxes fit, mostly, and we knew how to put them on ...mostly. We spent some time in a dressing room wondering why the tux shirts buttoned up with four studs, if only three were visible above the vest, and the colored handkerchiefs almost defeated us. We were each given one burgundy and one forest green piece of cloth; these were intended to stick out of our breast pockets in some sort of debonair, James Bond, folded-napkin arrangement, but none of us could summon the origami skills needed to make them look good. We'd about decided that as long as they were all folded the same way, it didn't matter if they were wrong, exactly - then Reed's mother showed us how to do it, averting certain disaster. But while I clean up pretty good, I still think the bridesmaids wearing tuxes looked better in theirs than I did.
As for the wedding itself, it was memorable, for more reasons than you might expect. One of the musical selections was the theme from "Greatest American Hero", which was the first and only song I ever heard Reed play on the piano, over a decade ago. Another was "I'm Under Your Spell", otherwise known as the wicked lesbian love song from the musical episode of "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer". One of the readings was a quote from "Babylon 5"; another was an explanation of secular humanism. (That last was incorporated into the ceremony to make a point, as several members of Angela's family apparently boycotted the wedding because it was non-religious. Feh - this is a good topic for a rant, but I'll save it for another time).
Did I mention that many of Reed's friends work with him in the theater? The reception took place in the same room as the ceremony. When we led the crowd out into the foyer after the vows, the theater folk closed the doors, conducted a scene change, and let us back in a few minutes later.
The reception snacks were nice - the wedding cake didn't quite get tipped over before it had a chance to be served, and the tables were scattered with little mirrored hearts that looked like ball bearings, but were edible. The punch was served in large clamshell bowls, frozen into orange rings of ice about the size and shape of bundt cakes.
The trip back was also somewhat interesting. I left Albany at oh-dark-thirty, so that I'd get to the Portland airport early. Then wacky hijinks ensued. The lady at the quick check-in for the rental car told me there was some hiccup, and I'd have to visit the actual counter downstairs. No problem, thought I; my flight doesn't leave for forty-five minutes, and I'm not checking any luggage.
At the counter, the lady told me that my paperwork didn't match up with the vehicle I'd brought back. She'd look into it, but it might take her a while - could I come back later, or could she perhaps call me? I went to the ticket counter to fetch my boarding pass, then came back, to see the same counter agent getting chewed out by another customer and her family. When they were done with her, I gave her my phone number and took hers, then boogied for my gate, with fifteen minutes to spare.
Passing through security, my backpack got flagged as being too full of metal objects. I was asked if it could be unpacked, then watched them send the contents through their X-ray machine three, count-em three, times. In the meanwhile, no-one asked me to take off the boots I was wearing, but they did X-ray the open-toed sandals of the next woman in line. By the time I got to my gate, it was empty, and they were calling my name. I made it back to Dallas in one piece, however, and got my rental car snafu straightened out over the phone.
Overall, a good time - as I told Reed, it was pleasant to only be a witness at someone else's chaos.
Some of my (low-quality, taken with a disposable camera) pictures are available here:
http://www.concentric.net/~erick/byers/
Higher quality versions are available courtesy of the bride, here:
http://www.visitations.com/wedding/wedding/
no subject
I've been instructed to report that Pat and John were not cute - so, uh, they evinced no cuteness at all. Nope, none, nada.
Good work. The check is in the mail. (-
Reed's wedding, continued...
Gosh, I wish I'd realized that. I would have played it up more :>
And I figured I'd already mentioned on my photos page that Reed was using a remote. We should have gifted Angela with one as well... but in a different frequency, like those toy race cars that are boxed and sold in pairs.