My Brother’s Wedding
First, let me say I’m having quite a time wrapping my mind around the fact that the little guy pictured above – the happy, emotionally expressive boy who I have subsequently loved and tortured throughout the years (and, yes, Dad, maybe I tried to drown him a couple of times in our backyard pool – such is the role of a big sister) …
… Anyway, I can’t believe that “little guy” is now this handsome, strapping, married young man:
I’d like to say this: it’s been a pleasure growing up alongside you, Robby. I think we can agree the dull moments have been few and far between. I believe that siblings have an understanding of one another that no one else can ever match, and I’m happy to share that background with you. I wish nothing but the best for you and your bride, and I hope that you can challenge one another to grow through the highs and lows that you will face throughout the early years of marriage.
There’s a little more I’d like to get out about this weekend. It took me no less than 25 hours and a lot of yogic breathing for me to make it from New Orleans to the reception in North Carolina. After four or five flight delays and twelve hours of traveling without really going anywhere, it became clear to me that I was, for all intents and purposes, stranded in Atlanta on Friday night. Keep in mind the wedding was scheduled for Saturday morning. To call my state of mind in that moment ‘fragile’ is probably a gross understatement.
To make a long story short: I rented a car, got about 5 hours of sleep in a hotel outside of the city, and drove the remaining 6 hours to Greensboro on Saturday morning. So, yes, I missed my only brother’s actual wedding and vow ceremony, and that is painful to think about. I also showed up to the reception looking, feeling, and smelling like I’d been camping out at Bonnaroo for the last five days. But, whatever – I was there, and I even managed to get in on some family photos after the reception was over (thank God I didn’t wear sweatpants to fly this trip).
Anyway, I’m now safe and sound back at home in New Orleans. It’s only taken me two Dr. Peppers, a 4-hour nap, and a dash of reality television to start feeling like myself again. I have, however, learned some things that I think you may find useful:
- Sweat the small stuff. When they grabbed my suitcase to valet check it on my first flight, I never anticipated actually needing that phone charger, computer charger, or backup pair of glasses … until I was sitting in Atlanta with 10% battery life and irritated, dry eyes. Sometimes the worst does actually happen, and the details matter.
- When your fight-or-flight reaction kicks in, it’s probably best to let it pass before taking action. When I realized I wouldn’t be on any flight out of Atlanta Friday night, I temporarily lost my senses and bolted out of the airport in a panic. Finding myself completely alone, defenseless, and wandering around outside in an unfamiliar city at 1:00 AM only amplified my panic and worsened the situation.
- Don’t take it personal. I heard Monica’s “Don’t take it Personal” (hello, 1995!) twice on the drive from Atlanta to North Carolina. Twice. Seriously, if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is. Sometimes crappy things happen, and there’s nothing that can be done about them. Move on.
- Always ask for what you are owed. I ended up getting both a voucher and partial refund from Delta, but only because I asked.
- The new Chevy Malibu drives pretty luxuriously. Just saying!
Congratulations again to my brother and my beautiful sister-in-law! It was worth every minute of travel to see you and I can’t wait to see you again! xoxo