Thursday, September 1, 2011

Hurricanes Suck but People are Nice

So...hurricanes, huh? How much do they suck? We were very lucky, and just lost internet for a while.

Spent last week in Indiana/Michigan/Michiana watching my beautiful best friend get married* and made it back in the nick of time, catching the absolute last train out of NYC. It was surreal: Harlem was abandoned and the packed train was eerily silent. Of course I spent most of the ride sleeping on the floor having wedding-ed, partied and flown all night, so what do I know?

Incidentally, here's a note to the Detroit airport:

That's a beautiful tunnel you have there. Really fucking lovely. Incidentally, not so great to walk through while hungover. Ix-nay on the annoying light and sound show early in the orning-may, mmmmmmmkay?

I arrived home exhausted, dazed and still wearing my wedding makeup only to find that The Boy had made up the bed, stocked up on supplies (flashlights, beer and snacks). So we settled in for the weekend, slept and ate things.

Further evidence that people are nice when hurricanes suck? An email I received from Delta during the wedding reception may have hinted that I was, in a word, stranded and while I frantically tried to get onto a red-eye, everyone was offering to help in any way they could. The DJ, a girl who didn't know me from Adam, ended up driving me to the airport at 4 in the morning. I was overwhelmed by her and everyone elses' generosity. She even made a McDonald's detour when I mentioned that I had a craving for hash browns.

And now, without further ado, I present:
The Wedding, according to my iPhone

This is what Michiana looks like before a storm

This is what Michiana looks like after a storm.
This is where they got married.

This is their maid of honor.

Left: the bouquet I made. Right: what the bride wanted the bouquets to look like.
This week I started school. More on that later.

* I was very cool about the whole thing, too, if 'cool' is code for 'weepy and occasionally hysterical'.

No comments:

Post a Comment