Honestly, I wanted to skip this post. This trip was one of the least memorable, and yet somehow most stressful, of all of my Gap Year travels.
In October of 2015, my best friend and I were invited to a friend’s wedding in Dallas, Texas. When we enthusiastically sent back our Save the Date cards marked “Yes,” we were under the impression that a lot of our friends from college would be going to Dallas for the ceremony too.
We were mistaken.
That’s how we ended up being the only two people from our college friend group (outside of the bridal party) at a wedding in the middle of Texas. With a bunch of strangers. In Texas. TEXAS.
The bride was so grateful that we were actually making the trip that when she found out, she had us cancel our hotel reservation and insisted that we spend the night before the wedding with the bridal party in their hotel suite. She even made accommodations for us to spend the night at her parents’ house after the reception and for her mom to drive us back to the airport the next day. We thought we were going to have the best time.
Again, we were mistaken.
Instead of it being a glamorous hotel suite, it was two conjoined rooms with king beds. That night, we shared a bed with the bride and a bridesmaid. Let me just clarify: THERE WERE FOUR HUMAN BEINGS IN ONE BED. FOUR. I didn’t sleep even an hour.
The next day, we were essentially bridesmaids without any of the perks. We helped with loading and unloading food at the venue, assisted the bride, and assisted the bridesmaids, but then weren’t asked to be in any pictures with the bride or if we wanted to get our hair and makeup done too.
At the reception, we were sat at a table with complete strangers, while the rest of the people we knew were at the bridal party table. And, the worst tragedy of all, we were promised chocolate pie, and when we got our slices, there was no chocolate left. The audacity.
When the reception ended and we told the bride’s parents that we needed a ride with them to their house, they were completely unaware that the bride had promised we could spend the night there. Then, on the consequently very crowded ride to their house, her drunk uncle started slurring and falling all over my best friend. At that point, we were counting down the hours until our flight home.
Takeaway: Truthfully, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. We didn’t feel all that cared for, or even noticed, after we helped unload all of the boxes at the venue. But my best friend and I stuck together, she did my hair, and we hid together in the bathroom during the reception. We still groan when we reminisce about it, but now we laugh too. I’m glad she was with me for that experience; it was the clearest example of a growing pain I can think of and we stuck it out together. Maybe part of growing up is going to functions you don’t want to attend, dealing with people that are too drunk to stop talking, and hiding in bathrooms to avoid everything. At least that’s what I’ve experienced.