We just returned from a wedding in Minnesota, and I’m that kind of cross-eyed, achey exhausted that conveys three clear messages: you slept poorly because the too-thick hotel pillows kept your neck bent at a 60 degree angle, there was an open bar and you spent too much time bellied-up to it, and any time you do enjoy an open bar a little too much and stay up a little too late the night before, count on the hotel to send a team of workers to strip wallpaper right outside your room at dawn the next morning.
Despite the lack of sleep (or maybe because of it), we had a great time with old friends. Young ones, too. The reception was an elegant but low-key affair at The Loring Pasta Bar in Dinkytown Minneapolis. Not only did Bob Dylan sleep here in the sixties, but this restaurant has one of the most amazing bathrooms I've ever seen. It was like walking into a fairy tale--Pan’s Labyrinth meets Alice in Wonderland on a cobblestone street in Merry Olde England. With oversized chrome rain shower heads for faucets! And pipes bent to look like tree branches! And giant plants and curving, old brick walls and firefly lights and mismatched doors! If you are a six year-old with a good imagination, you will probably report back to the table that you saw hobbits peeking around the garbage can and fairies living above the soap dispenser.
Any time you travel, life can feel like a blur, but I did manage to capture the following snippets of amusing dialogue:
At the church service, a three year old watching his mother walk up the main aisle to take communion: “Dad, why are Emily and Mom getting married?”
Also at the church, our pew mates on the large, attractive posters of corn seedlings (meant to convey new life and hope) hung behind the altar: “What, do they worship corn here?”
Relaxing in a hotel room after a night of pizza, wine, and gin and tonics: “I think that the word ’Snatch’ is the Phoenix University of slang terms for female genitalia.” (I'm ashamed to admit that an inordinate amount of time was then spent trying to decide what the Harvard of genital slang would be. But we did decide that the 'P word' was a good, solid state school with a nice football team and marching band.)
The mother of a wide-eyed little girl who insisted on returning to the very awesome fairy tale bathroom, to the bride: “She wanted to come back to see the princess who lives in the bathroom.”
A clerk at a gas station / convenience store, on the phone: “Whatever. At least I’M not the one who f*cked five guys at Rock Fest after drinking a whole bottle of whiskey!”
After the clerk realized that my husband overheard her sassy sentence, she blushed and nearly tore the phone from the wall trying to run away.
I leave for San Francisco on Tuesday, so there will be more updates from the road / stiff necks / sleepless nights / strange bits of dialogue in the days to come.