Of Weddings and Heat Stroke

“It was a nice wedding.”
“It was.”
“Great family.”
“Aren’t they lovely?”
“Yeah.  But let’s never come back to Arizona.”
– J. and C.

Last weekend was an adventure, ducklings, complete with forgotten IDs, lack of sleep, an Indian Casino, and a very happy bride and groom.  I got to wear a boutonniere and received a pocket watch as a groomsman’s gift, so we can even add a clever bit of gender bending.  Honestly, just writing this recap makes it sound like a Shakespearean comedy!

But Flyboy was very happy, and so was everyone else, so we’re going to call it a crashing success!  His wife (which for continuity’s sake we’ll herewith christen Flygirl) planned the whole wedding in Arizona from Alaska and as far as any of us in the wedding party could tell, it went swimmingly.  Her organizational skills are incredible.  As soon as some pictures make their way to Facebook, or alternatively as soon as I can find the camera cord, we’ll show you the evidence.

My only complaint was that it was 120 degrees in the shade the whole time, which makes the whole of the state an unfit place to live – and that’s before getting politically snarky.  Walking from the car to the hotel entrance to check in made my whole body freak out – I flushed bright red and couldn’t cool down on my own, leading to a cold shower (which I normally hate) to get back to normal.  At one point J. burned his hand on a car door.  Whose brilliant idea was it to settle that scalding wilderness, pray?

First settlers (in the style of the penguins from the movie Madagascar): “Well. This sucks.”

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