I just got back from the big Santa Cruz wedding and, man oh man, I’m exhausted. Chris and I had a blast. Tons of food. Tons of booze. Tons of fun.
We got their Friday afternoon and checked in. The room itself was just so-so, but the view was great; a beautiful ocean view. Lovely. Not once did we close the sliding glass door, because we didn’t want to drown out the sound of waves crashing on the beach. Seriously, it’s like a lullaby. The sound is so hypnotic, so relaxing.
After admiring our fantastic view, we decided to get a closer look and headed down to the pier for some afternoon beer drinkin’ and fried calamari eatin’. Mmmmm. Later, we had dinner with Michelle and Tony in a cool place with an ocean view. (It’s all about the ocean view, folks.) I think Michelle ate 40 lbs. of crab that night. I’m also pretty sure that crab is what kept Michelle from being horribly sick the next day, because she stayed out late, boozin’ it up with the cousins. Chris and I opted for the hot tub. I think we made the right choice.
The Saturday afternoon wedding ceremony was relatively short for a Catholic wedding. (The bride looked beautiful and the couple looked so happy together.) Of course, I’m surprised the church didn’t come crumbling down when I walked in. There was a lot of praying and praising the lord and singing and what not. I don’t believe in that God stuff. They might as well be praying to Santa Claus, but hey, to each their own. I’m not an intolerant jackass. Oh wait, does that statement about Santa Claus make me an intolerant jackass? Eh, what can you do?
So anyway, I’ve got two words for you about the reception: Open bar.
The reception was at the Cocoanut Grove, which is part of the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Beautiful, huge ballroom. Really fantastic.
My sexy, but not-too-sexy green dress was a crowd pleaser, especially with some of the uncles with, err, busy hands. Chris showed off his smooth moves on the dance floor, leaving my cousin-in-law, Dave, to exclaim, “Chris has got the moves out there. I was about to cut in.”
Instead of a DJ, the couple opted for a band – wait, scratch that — a cheesy 80s band. At one point, they played Prince’s “You Got the Look” and the only people dancing were Michelle and Tony and Chris and myself. Oh, but the dance floor was packed for “Footloose.” That’s right! Everybody cut loose! What the fuck is that about? Never underestimate the power of Kenny Loggins. I suspect if the band had busted out some Richard Marx the dance floor was have exploded.
OH, and the long-talked about dance off between the Mansfield ladies and their boyfriends never “officially” took place, but I’m pretty sure Dave’s above-mentioned comments let’s you know who would have been victorious. Thanks be to Dave.
After the reception, a bunch of us drunk asses went to the arcade and played drunken Tetris, drunken air hockey (Chris jacked up his hand losing to Dave, wah-wah), drunken Donkey Kong, drunken … oh, you get the idea.
And later, as the party moved from the arcade to the bar … the alcohol really started to kick in. The talking turned to yelling, err, I mean, enthusiastic debating. You know: the usual. The next morning was voice was scratchy as hell. Chris says he can always tell when I’ve had too much drink because my volume gets turned up.
It was a great weekend. We had such a good time. On the way home, we took the scenic Highway 1 and stopped for In N Out Burger. Believe it or not, it was my first time. Mmmmm. I was an In N Out virgin. I’m so glad I waited, so my first time was with some really special.
Now, I’m still hung over. I have a dull ache in my head that only cuddling on the couch with my Homer and watching TV can cure. (Speaking of the Homer, thanks be to Kate for dog-sitting!)