Wedding planning is much the horrible Hydra from ancient Greek mythology. You cut off a head and two more spring forth. Then those two heads want half payment up front or cancel appointments. Some of the things are fun, some are pure hell, and all things involve stress.
A nice example of one thing is getting a marriage license. We rolled in, having no idea that they closed in three minutes. All the staff was helpful. We had to take an oath that we weren’t second cousins or closer. Look asshole, just because I have three testicles and twelve fingers…OK, you should probably check. Then we just needed $50. Why not? Why shouldn’t you have to pay for a piece of paper? Sons of bitches.
The problem? They only take cash, like the mafia. We even had a check book ready like we were 75, but forgot about the cash. I pulled out $43, she had $4. In her purse was $2.40. “That’s good, we’ll get it.” Then a guy came around the corner, “We can’t give them money, we could violate the law. You’ll have to come back.” OH NO HE DIDN’T! I had to sprint to an elevator and run a block away to dig .60 out of my car. I remembered earlier that day when I could have paid with my debit, but I put a $5 bill in the self-checkout.
I made it back to the building in a few minutes, drenched and out of breath. Needless to say, the security officers weren’t exactly thrilled to see me. My belt set off the metal detector, adding to my near stroke. I made it by about a minute, light headed and huffing…for sixty cents. I was too tired to even give the obligatory “I pay your salary” redneck speech. It worked, now to hide my fiancee’s passport so she doesn’t wind up in Guatemala.
That is fantastic