1.) Ran into the groom’s (apparent) grandmother.

By which I mean…I actually ran into her. While dancing. In my defense, I was backing up
(as Ben had just let go of me in some amazing move I’m sure would put some ice dancers to shame and cry like babies), and the groom was dancing with her (it was a fast song!) and I slammed into her pretty hard. He didn’t seem too happy, even though I apologized a lot.

2.) Spilled a large amount of red wine all on Ben’s white shirt.

Seriously, it was bad. I should probably note at this point that I was NOT, I repeated NOT inebriated at said wedding. I know, I know, after the running into grandmothers and spilling wine all over the joint, I would make certain assumptions too. But those who know me well know that I’m just a clumsy oaf. Ben took it like a champ. Danny (our staff chaplain, and one of my favorite people) says: “Dude. I have a shirt for you. I’ll be right back.” He comes back from the car with a shirt that says: “I’m really excited to be here.” He wore it the rest of the night. And we danced. I was impressed with Ben’s complete calm. He didn’t let it stop him from dancing. That’s my boy.

3.) Took stain advice from a lady with purple hair.

Actual, dark purple hair, and very large, black-rimmed glasses. I told Ben as soon as I saw her that I wanted to hug her and make her my grandma. In the restroom, I was wetting down Ben’s wine-stained shirt so as to hopefully assist in getting out the stain later (it did come out later, by the way), she informed me that apparently white wine gets out red wine. Who knew? Bad news? They were out of white wine by this time. Confound it all! Cute lady with purple hair and large black-rimmed glasses shakes her head at me, seemingly very sorry for me, says I might just have to buy him another shirt. Since it was Banana Republic, I’m glad I got the stain out. Thanks for your help though, lady with purple hair. I miss you. Maybe we could be pen pals.

4.) Wore a dress that cost $9. And I looked GOOD.

Thank you, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Steve and Barry’s. It may fall apart tomorrow, but that does not matter in the slightest, since the wedding is over. And your purple peep-toe shoes that I also paid $9 were surprisingly comfortable, all things considered. I have no doubt that you probably use babies and/or fetuses working 20-hours a day in sweatshops in Indonesia so that I can afford a dress to go to a wedding, and it may make me feel a bit bad, but in the end, I really didn’t have time (or money, really) to look at any other stores. So, thank you as well, baby fetuses.

5.) Messed up pretty much all of the Cha-Cha Slide.

This probably did not help my “I am not inebriated!” case. But somehow, we ended up at the FRONT of the group, rather than the back, where I can watch what people are doing. And it’s not like you ever ever do the Cha-Cha Slide, unless you are at a wedding or prom. And we got the edit of the song that had less instruction than the other one (this was confirmed by Ben, who has used another edit for weddings in the past) that we’d danced to at our friend’s wedding in January (where I did much, much better). I had no idea what was going on. I’m still not totally sure what to do when I should “turn it out”. I can “criss-cross!” and I can cha-cha real slow now, til the cows come home…but please do not make me stand in the front of the group again. Ever.