Once upon a time I was living in Barcelona and my friend Matthew came to visit. He was on his way to Greece to do an archeological dig with a professor from KU. He was pumped about his trip, and even more pumped after he met his future wife on that trip. She was from New York and they had a long-distance romance until she eventually moved to Kansas. Soon she and Matthew were engaged and planning a wedding in Rochester. I was already planning on attending the wedding, but due to some circumstances outside of their control, they were down a bride’s maid a couple weeks before the wedding and asked if I’d step in. More than happy to help, I accepted my duties, but knew it was going to be a bit tight to make it all happen. Due to my work and school schedule, I couldn’t leave until Friday afternoon, and had to fly back at 6am Sunday morning - a very quick trip. Also, the night before my flight I’d pulled an all-nighter trying to finish an essay I had due that weekend, and the night before that I had driven roundtrip from KC to St. Louis to see Jimmy Eat World, which put me back in KC around 5am, and needing to be at work at 7am. Needless to say, I was already beyond tired by the time Friday rolled around.

I left straight from work on Friday, dress and heels in hand, making sure not to check any baggage to avoid lost luggage in the dreaded O’Hare transfer. Miraculously I made my connecting flight in Chicago, relaxed in my seat, and running on zero sleep, dozed off. A mere half hour later, I awoke to find we were still sitting on the runway. A few hours later, we were still on the runway. The wedding was at 2 the following afternoon, so I was starting to worry. After hours of sitting, a flight attendant got on the PA system to tell us that our flight was cancelled - the pilot had already flown too many hours that day. How is that not something they would have figured out ahead of time?!

At this point it was midnight, and I was freaking out. I followed the angry herd to the ticket counter and began eavesdropping on the young couple in front of me, “I REFUSE to get on ONE MORE FLIGHT! I just won’t do it!” “Babe, let’s just see what they say…” “NO! I’ve been on FIVE fucking flights today and I’m no closer to my destination! I’m done! We’re renting a car the rest of the way to New York!”

My ears perked up! I immediately tapped the guy on the shoulder, “Um, hi. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. If you’re renting a car to New York, any way I could jump in on that action?” They shot each other a question mark. “I’ll pay half, and take turns driving, I just really need to get to this wedding I’m in tomorrow,” I smiled a million-watt smile at them. Continuing their secret conversation with their eyes, the girl finally said, “Ok, sure.”

We went ahead and waited our turns for the ticket counter, but our fears were confirmed, the earliest flight out wouldn’t be until 7pm the following day - well after the wedding, and only 11 hours before my flight home. We bee-lined it to the car rental counter, and were on the road by 12:30am. Luckily they’d had more sleep than me, so they took the first shift. During my shift it was still pitch black, and was a bit touch and go for a while as I kept trying to nod off. Finally I was relieved and got a couple hours of restless sleep. Once it was an acceptable hour, I called the bride and groom to explain my situation, and that I would be there ASAP. Photos were starting at noon, and we pulled up to my hotel at 11am. Just enough time for a shower and change.

We took photos, had the ceremony, and then boogied down at the reception until well into the night. I was ready for bed, but before I knew it, I was being dragged to the bars in downtown Rochester! Refusing to be a party pooper, I rallied and bar-hopped in full bride’s maid regalia - bouquet included. The bouquet is important because this was peak “Single Ladies” era, and this bar had an upstairs loft where the DJ was playing. I weaved my way through the crowd, got to the DJ, and managed to get him to play the song so that I could do a mock bride’s bouquet toss. The bar went wild, and a group of 4 hot Canadian dudes ended up being the lucky bouquet catchers, so I ran down to congratulate them to which their response was to throw me in the air, buy me drinks, and make me take photos of them holding me. It was magical.

I made it back to the hotel around 4:30, just enough time for a NASA-endorsed 26 minute power nap before catching my ride to the airport. By the time I made it back to my bed around 3:30 Sunday afternoon, I was ready to die of exhaustion - and finally come clean to my mom about my methods of getting myself to the wedding. It was an insane few days, but I’d do it a thousand times over for more memories like those!