Wedding Rule #16: Don’t serve booze to your husband’s ex-girlfriends

Early Monday morning my wife and I boarded a plane in Oaxaca and flew to Mexico City, Houston, and finally, Phoenix. My mother-in-law met us at Sky Harbor Airport and drove us the last two hours to our home in Tucson. By the end of the day, my head was buzzing and I felt a bit dazed, like when you’re suddenly awakened from a deep sleep.

Why is flying such distances so disorienting? There’s so much change before the sun sets—language, food, time zones, sights and sounds and smells. Is it that our brains and bodies can’t handle so many adjustments, or am I just getting old?

In Houston, standing in line for the chance to board, a young woman in a red and blue tie-dyed shirt was speaking very loudly into a cobalt-blue cell phone about another young woman who had caused a drunken scene at her wedding. I tried to imagine what had happened. Had she flirted with the groom? Did she fall into the wedding cake? Had she danced naked with a member of the band? Inquiring minds heard everything but the most important details, sad to say.

The cute Ms. Tie-dyed must be a professional auctioneer, or perhaps she leads a NASCAR pit crew. I say this because, despite the announcements on the public address system and the background scream and roar of jet engines, Ms. Tie-dyed could be heard plainly from more than fifty feet away.

Opera singer, maybe?

On the phone with a conspirator, she was making plans to sneak to the back door of the house to avoid seeing or speaking with the lush who had ruined her wedding. Otherwise, she assured her friend, she’d be forced to do something ugly.

I was suddenly grateful that tie-dyed, grudge-nursing young women are no longer permitted to carry firearms on aircraft. Or in their checked luggage.

Ms. Tie-dyed was apparently returning from a Mexico honeymoon. A week in the arms of her new husband had not done much to lessen the sting of whatever public humiliation this former friend had subjected her to. But, I suppose that if you’re going to invite your boyfriend’s jealous girlfriends to your wedding, make them buy you expensive gifts, and then ply them with cheap booze—well, if you light a match in a fireworks factory, should you be surprised when you get your hair burned off?

Within seconds of landing, Ms. Tie-dyed had the cell phone to her ear and was yacking away loudly once again. Even at the luggage carousel, she was still plotting evil deeds. I’ll have to watch the papers for unexplained Phoenix homocides.

If you’d prefer to have a good time without booze, firearms, ex-girlfriends or vindictive brides, click on over to Pseudo-Polymath’s place and spend some time reading Christian Carnival #66. Lots of thrills; no gunplay.

And if you’d like more information about the whole Christian Carnival phenomenon, visit Wittenberg Gate for all of the details.