Saturday is definitely the hardest day to write about, as I spent most of the day a nervous wreck. Ive read plenty of TRs wherein the stress of the pre-wedding day leads to tension and fighting between the soon-to-be spouses, so I guess I can count myself lucky that none of my pre-marital problems were Angela-related. But problems I had nonetheless.
The day started out promising enough. At 7:45 AM (after a solid 5 hours of sleep, which didn't helped matters), we hauled our dresses down to my parents room and met the very prompt and professional people from Carolyn Allens. I had promised the boys Id buy them breakfast, so Angela, my mother and I departed for the ASM cafeteria. Once we got there, Mummy persuaded us to stay and eat, and let the boys come down to get their food after the fittings. Less clutter and crumbs among the gowns and tuxes seemed like a good idea.
We hadnt really sorted out the issue of prep for Sunday morning, and Angela and I needed to check out of our room by 11. So my mother and I went to the front desk in order for me to have my first minor mini Bridezilla meltdown. Our position: if ASM had done as wedtwicerequested, and placed everyone in the same building, we wouldnt need an extra room for hair and makeup, because we could just use two adjacent rooms. Because no two people whose rooms we could commandeer were close to each other, we needed an extra room. Said extra room should be charged at the same rate as the other bridal party rooms, owing to the fact that had we but known wed be so far apart, we would have reserved an additional room at that price. Reservation Ladys position: I cant override the computer. I wasnt as upset as everyone seemed to think I was (it wasnt the Reservation Ladys fault that we were in different buildings, and Im sure she doesnt get paid enough to want to deal with nasty people), but after a few minutes of back-and-forth, Reservation Lady and my mother conspired to send me to the room to pack up our stuff. (My mother did get them to give us the discount rate for an additional room, in the same building as my parents room, albeit one floor up).
I was glad to pack. When Im an emotional wreck, I like having some menial task to focus on, and packing requires so little thought that its a perfect fit with reflection time. Let me step back for a second: Angela and I had decided not to write our own vows. We didnt want our ceremony to go on too long, for starters. We wanted to toast each other in a fun way, without the seriousness required of binding oaths. And we wanted people to be a little tipsy before we launched into all the mushy stuff. Instead, we figured wed write toasts to each other, both as a vow-substitute and as a thank you to our guests. Id written half of my speech, the part for our guests, bridal party, and parents, intending to write the part to Angela while in Disney. So while I packed our stuff, I thought it would be a good time to figure out what I wanted to say.
And thats how the sobbing (Part 1) began. I kept going over how much I loved Angela and why, and somehow, I turned into a massive pile of sappy goo. I cried straight through two hours of organizing and packing, reciting the litany of wonderful qualities that my beloved possesses. Im often sentimental, obviously, but Id never had quite the, um, emotional spell I did that morning.
Meanwhile, I think everyone suspected I needed a little alone time, so they stayed at the pool. After our impromptu welcome dinner the night before, Angela wound up hosting a little welcome breakfast at the ASM. Most of our bridal party slept off their hangovers in the Florida sunshine, while Angela chatted with our family members and the sober contingent of our friends.
When I finished packing and crying (for the moment), Angela and one of our people of honor helped me move the suitcases to their appropriate new homes (my parents room, Angelas parents room, Angelas parents car, etc.). Angela and I realized that wed neglected to buy cute, fun Disney gifts for our bridal party, so we dashed off to the ASM store to spend a little more money.
And then, off to the spa. After such a stressful morning, I was ready to be pampered. Angelas dad drove us to the Grand Floridian. We would have been on time, but
we had to start chatting with one of the bellboys at the GF about gay marriage. We wanted to drop off our suitcases so that we could check in easily after the wedding (I had arranged an overnight bag for Angela with all her stuff and an overnight bag for myself, and organized everything else into bags that needed to go to Jennifer, bags that needed to go to the rehearsal dinner, and bags that could go to the GF. I love organizing.). The bellboy asked us about the wedding, and upon realizing that Angela and I were the ones getting hitched, wanted to know everything about it (Are your parents ok with it? How does your religion factor in?). He was very nice, but Angela and I were itching to get going.
Finally, we managed to extricate ourselves from the conversation, and head down the pretty GF path toward the spa. We changed into our robes and went in to learn the art of massaging each other. To be honest, I think I liked the Saratoga Springs Spa better than the GF. SS seemed bigger and more stand-alone spa-like than the GF. They also had better refreshments in the waiting area. But the couples instructional massage was coolAngela and I learned a few new techniques that we continue to use. I loved my mani and pedi too. Funnily enough, Angela had complained beforehand that because she hadnt had a manicure in a while, her nails would bleed. Sure enough, she bled, but the first thing my manicurist said to me was, Oh, youve had a manicure very recently. I said, no, its been over a year, and she was shocked. Angelas manicurist came over and looked at my nails, and both of them oohed and aahed over my perfect hands. It was pretty amusing, given that I dont exactly take good care of my nails. Poor, jealous Ange. Unfortunately, Angela and Flor (my manicurist) decided that I could not have hot pink nails because they were not appropriately bridal. I settled for a light, opaque pink-ish color instead. Not nearly as cool as hot pink, but Ill live.
After my nails dried, I decided to look at my phone. Big mistakegone went relaxed Sunny, and in came Bridezilla. I had seven missed calls. Beaute Speciale needed to know my room number, easy enough. But the DJ
grrr
Let me preface my tirade by saying that I thought DJ Silva did a wonderful job at the wedding. The dance floor was always full, and everyone had a fabulous time. But he was not the most responsive beforehand. I had called and emailed several times before leaving for Disney, and called a few times on Friday and Saturday morning to make sure that we were on the same page. I finally heard back from him at 2-ish on Saturday, when I was at the spa; he told me to call him before 4 (the same time that I finally got the message), and repeated the wrong information about the next day. We didnt want to be formally announced, certain people were supposed to say things at certain times, and we wanted certain music played, but the DJ didnt seem to have received all of my emails with these important details.
With the waiting room full of people trying to relax, my nails barely dry, I started calling people. The DJ first; I left an urgent message. Then Veronica at Beaute Speciale; of course, when I was on the phone with her, the DJ called, but I couldnt get off the phone. He left another message. I then called Angelas mom to tell her where we were, as she had our rehearsal dinner dresses. Then, DJ again, so we could finally went over all the details. I could tell that he thought I was a little nutty/obsessive, but at that point, I was really frustrated that I was still so stressed out. I thought that my stress would magically evaporate the second I got on the flight to Orlando, and instead, I was one little ball of nerves.
Angelas mom and sister arrived, looking very pretty. They dropped off our dresses and shoes, and went back to 1900 Park Faire, where the rehearsal dinner commenced without us. It was actually nice to walk over with Angela alone. She started stressing about a zit on her face, which made me instantly relaxed (Angela and I are really good at balancing each otherif shes stressed out, Im not, and vice versa. I just wish shed taken on more of the anxiousness load during the pre-wedding days). We joked about ditching the dinner and heading to Ghirardelli instead (I kind of wish we had), but we made it, in all of our finery:
Our party took up four tables in the heart of the restaurant, right next to the buffet. Angela and I barely had time to eat, even though we were starving (wed only had an assortment of peanuts and Goldfish for lunch because our spa appointments went from 12 to 4:30). We were hopping around, talking with people, having a great time, when the announcer said something about people celebrating special events. They started up the waltz music, and our friends egged us on to dance. We were pretty much surrounded by our friends/family members, or so I thought. At the end, we shared a smooch.
And thats when the trouble began.
Some crazy guy ran over to us and began to yell, at the top of his lungs, about how homosexuality is a mental disorder, how it perverts his children to see two people of the same sex together, and so on. I was shell-shocked. There were plenty of other (straight) couples making out with each other in the restaurant. My friend Jess was wearing a dress that left nothing to the imagination. My mother had made some kind of inappropriate sexual comment within earshot of small children. But these things didnt upset him, apparently; only that two people who were so committed to each other that they were getting married had danced together and kissed for about two seconds.
All I could say was, But were getting married tomorrow. Great defense. Fortunately, he messed with the wrong crowd. Our friends/family members were pretty respectful, I thought; they didnt shout back, at least. They tried to get him to stop or to at least lower his voice. And it didnt seem like anyone else at the restaurant was that happy about his interruption: he asked if anyone agreed, and only one woman stood up. When the Disney manager came to escort him out (after about one minute), everyone else in the restaurant looked relieved. A few of the other patrons made supportive comments afterward, which I appreciated. Disney staff expressed their profound apologies. Among our group, Angela and my brother were furious, my (paternal) grandmother was bewildered (shes going a little deaf), Christopher (the four year old) had no idea what had happened, Angelas mom started crying, and everyone else seemed kind of unsure what to say or do.
At first, I was kind of numb. I couldnt believe that with all the arrangements Id made, all the planning, the time and energy, some schmuck wanted to ruin my wedding. I wasnt so much angry at him as I was angry at the situation: I was getting married in the morning, and I couldnt even celebrate my love without fear of reprisals. I was scared, both in the immediate sense (was that crazy guy waiting for us outside?), and in the larger sense. Will we have to pretend to be friends or sisters whenever we vacation together? And what happens when we have kids? I can handle a few homophobic comments, but no child should have to deal with it. My little ball of nerves unraveled (aided by constant reminders from my family and friends that I shouldnt let it bother me), and sobbing (Part 2) began.
Very alluring red eyes:
My dad eventually managed to calm me down. He reminded me that times change: it would once have been unthinkable to have a commitment ceremony at Disney; and almost everyone in the restaurant was on our side, not the crazy guys. I breathed deeply a few hundred times.
Eventually, our bridal party came back down to the GF lobby (they had found a bar, so they were all a little more festive). They also helped cheer me up, and we had fun giving them their gifts (the boys all got Mickey socks and their cufflinks to wear at the wedding; the girls got their earrings and necklaces. We had also picked out fun small gifts for everyone, like pirate shot glasses for Angelas best person and a rainbow Mickey pin for my brother that he wore with his tux).
Of course, even though the rehearsal dinner had started at 4:30, and the rehearsal was across the street at 8, we were still a few minutes late. Jennifer was wonderful at herding everyone. The only slight, small problem? The rabbi still hadnt arrived. His flight got in at 6-something, but the Magical Express People wouldnt let him go straight to the Grand Floridian if his reservation was at ASM. Grrr
He ended up missing the whole rehearsal. But we didnt need him. Angela was a little worried that she didnt have the Hebrew part of our vows down, but we figured wed practice later on.
Me and my parents traipsing down the aisle:
Angela waving hello, surrounded by our people of honor:
My friend Becky captured some of the chaos on film (her and my (maternal) grandmother are the ones narrating):
After the rehearsal ended, the crowd dispersed, and we made our way back to ASM. One monorail ride to Magic Kingdom and bus to ASM later, my mother and I ran into the rabbi just as he was getting food at the cafeteria. I was a little relieved (in terms of things getting to Orlando, the rabbi was one of the more important elements). Angela and I went over our vows once more (I had mine memorized; Angela, not so much). I finally felt more relaxed: everyone who needed to be in Disney was there, we hadnt lost a single stitch of luggage, and we were ready to get married. We said goodnight for the last time as single women (and of course, both of us proclaimed, Well be married in the morning! as an homage to Enchanted).
Before this whole trip began, which is to say, before I lost my sanity, Angela was the one who was nervous about the wedding. She had a lingering fear that Id abandon her at the chuppah. Not exactly a realistic fear, but she was afraid nevertheless. To abate her concerns, I wanted to make sure that she knew I still loved her and was planning to marry her, so Id arranged to have the Bud Vase in her room:
Stock photo of Bud Vase, with cool hidden Mickey:
And Id gotten her a pretty card. I couldnt find any Cant wait to marry you cards, but I did find one that said, I love you more and more every day, and I cant wait until tomorrow. Three surprises down, three to go!
Only complaint about that night: we should probably have traded roommates. Angelas sister wanted to chat about weddings and do sisterly stuff. Angela fell right to sleep. I needed to finish my toast, and I wanted to reminisce with my sister about our childhood, bask in the pre-wedding glow. So of course, my sister constantly griped that I was keeping her awake. I had to call a few people to make sure they knew the drill for the next morning, annoying my sister even further. It was exactly like when we were little kids and I read books with a flashlight under the covers because she wouldnt let me keep the light on.
Eventually, she fell asleep. Me? Not so much. I tried. But I looked at the clock just about every five minutes, convinced that an hour had passed. I was excited and anxious and ready for the big day.
And up next, the Big Day! Part 1, anyway; I'm stretching out this baby as long as I can.
The best is yet to come! Just LOVE, LOVE, LOVE your sense of humor! The sneak peek pix are gorgeous! You both looked so beautiful! More! More! 
Can't wait to hear what happens next....
I am so sorry about that jerk, but am thrilled to know he did not rally the masses to a state of idiotic agreement. Complacency is nearly as bad, but I'm glad other guests made supportive noises afterwards.
That guy at your rehearsal dinner was unbelievable! 
I'm glad your dad was able to make you feel better! 
You and Angela looked great- I especially love your rehearsal dress. Such a pretty color! Can't wait for the next installment... 
Can't wait to read more...
