A Great Day for a White Wedding (Guest Blog)

I begin this story of the first full day of my thirty-fifth year in medias res. We returned from the Rose wedding and decided to operate the elevators under the influence. You never know what you'll meet riding fast glass elevators after midnight.

The characters in this scene are my wife, a bottle of Amstel Light, and two masked Agnes Scott students, as we all ride the glass elevators inside the Hyatt Regency. For a moment we contemplated crashing the Agnes Scott homecoming dance that was in full swing down in the ballroom. Instead, it was off to the room to smoke a maduro on the balcony.

The story begins at 3:00 when I returned from the Rock Ranch with Bax and LG. We returned, ate a piece of birthday cake, changed into wedding guest attire, hopped in the car and arrived at the Hyatt about fifteen minutes before the wedding was to start at Piedmont Park.

However, there was just enough time to do a self-portrait in the hotel room.



Take a moment to reflect upon our camera skills with a BAC of 0.000. They only get better as that number rises.

We had a difficult time finding a parking space and in finding a parking spot at Piedmont Park, where the wedding took place. Hence, the camera was left in the car and we have no pictures of the wedding.

I'll summarize. The wedding took place at the Clara Meer Dock at Piedmont Park with swans and ducks in the lake. It was something of an intimate gathering. We did not know the families very well. We had an invite and were not exactly crashing the event, but our connection to the parties was virtually tangential. We would soon change all that. In fact, we already had.

As we waited in the parking garage, Jenn asked a random well-dressed lady to take our picture. She did, and we learned that she had flown in from Pennsylvania for this wedding. We turned on the Jenn and Scott charm, and we became fast friends. Our work began in the parking garage long before we arrived at the wedding.



Louise's picture of us as we break the ice.


Our picture of Louise after we've put the broken ice in a tumbler and poured bourbon over it.

The trip to the Clara Meer dock was quite the Odyssey. The GPS took us to the address listed in the invitation, which was near the wedding site but far away from any available parking. After a brief detour into the Piedmont Driving Club (the application is on the way), curbing the tires, and a near collision with two gay men and their rat terrier, we walked to the dock and saw the wedding.

Among this potpourri of guests was a man in all black with a cowboy hat. We thought he was a wayward family member in town for the wedding. In the middle of the wedding, we thought he got fed up and was leaving. To our surprise, he picked up a guitar and played a song to the assembled congregation. Jenn later met this future Austin City Limits performer and became his first groupie.

I wish that he hadn't starting talking to Jenn right after catching the garter.

The evening wasn't all fun and games. Since the reception was at the Michael C. Carlos Museum on the campus of Emory University, I had the opportunity to show off my former almer mater, Candler School of Theology.

BAC still 0.000 as we take pictures on the quad.

I even went and checked my old mailbox. I figured I'd have a lot of mail to read, not having been there in over ten years.

Wait, who the hell is Sarah Szhneider, and why is her mail in my box? Guess I'll have to quit hanging up on those alumni people when they call asking for donations. After this experience, I had two choices. I could go to Canon Chapel to pray over this setback, or I could go and drink my sorrows away. ...

... so here we are, at the reception.


As luck would have it, the groom is an executive for a liquor distributor. One of the guests was a broker from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, who deals in fine wines and spirits. I was feeling guilty about choosing bourbon at the Carlos over prayer at the Canon. Lucky for me the minister who did the wedding was in attendance and willing to hear my confession in the buffet line.


Here we are talking theology and picking up artichoke hearts.

Our newest friends, a real estate agent and his wife, from Yonkers, New York, suggested that we open the door next to our table out in the hallway, and suddenly our table was transformed into box seats. I sort of felt like Abraham Lincoln at Ford Theater with the angle this new view afforded us.


Taken from the box seat and enhanced with a zoom lens.

But we didn't stay seated for long. We spent some time mingling. I hung out with the maid of honor, the bride's sister, and we also met up with a wedding guest who will soon play the part of our friend Barbara Moon, in an upcoming bio-pic on the Lifetime Channel.

Maid of Honor, Kenny Chesney, and Jenn.

The Barbara Moon look-a-like, me, and Woodford Reserve

Alas, the evening had grown late, and we decided that we didn't need a cab. The hotel was but four miles away.



Come on baby, I got the keys.

We drove back as I chewed on a cigar and as Jenn stuck her head through the sunroof and photographed the skyline (also known as probable cause).

I think that big building up ahead is our hotel.

Soon, we were back safely at our hotel with our keys in the hands of a very sober valet, and we were off to ride the elevator with masked revelers. So ended a very full first day of my thirty-fifth year, a great day for a white wedding.