Rule 36

My daughter and her fiance decided to get married in Estes Park, Colorado with the famous Stanley Hotel as the venue. Talk about shopping around for a good deal.  Off season discounts rule!  They got married on a Thursday in March. We lucked out, and it didn't snow. The reduced rates spread to cakes, flowers, meals, and lodging. It was cheaper for both families to trek to Colorado than stay home.

The families met in Estes and had a wonderful time exploring the mountain park, shopping, and eating. If you visit, don't miss the glass blowers.











They had a small, intimate ceremony in the Music Room with immediate family and a few close college friends. Their friends were all photography majors and they as well as my husband were bristling with lenses. There was no lack of great pictures. Most couples arrange the room so the bride and groom stand in front of the windows and the audience can look out at the mountains. We turned the furniture sideways and made an altar out of the alcove where the grand piano sits.

Despite the fact friends and family surrounded her, my daughter guarded the key to their room with her life, and only let one trusted gff hold it.

At the supper, the choices were some kind of beef steak and pecan crusted salmon. You must order the salmon if you go to the Stanley.

During the reception, my new son-in-law's brother accompanied himself on the piano and sang a song he wrote. The matron of honor roasted my son, her cousin, instead of toasting the bride and groom. My mom said she felt a little queasy and asked the bartender for some soda crackers to settle her stomach.

We had the room rented until 11:00 P.M.  The management gave us a fifteen minute warning, then kicked us out. The next morning, the newlyweds went around visiting with everyone before taking off on their honeymoon. For a blushing bride, my daughter was in a foul humor.

"Who crackered our bed?"

No one admitted it. Since they had the room next to #217, the ghost room, someone joked it was a supernatural event. I said crackers in the sheets were nothing compared to being in a four-car pileup on your honeymoon. (See my July 30 post.) After they left, my mother confided that she had done it.

Get outta here!

No one told the newlyweds. Months later, a cousin just happened to mention the incident in their hearing.

Rule 36. Sometimes, when you least expect it, when you don't even see it coming, Grandma will prank you.


References:
Mouth-blown glass

The Honeymoon is Over.

1973

My husband-to-be had just graduated with a degree in Nuclear Engineering, and I had just graduated from High School. Yeah, he's a cradle robber. We didn't particularly care where we went after the wedding as long as we had a few days away from work and studying.

In the days when it was common for friends to do despicable things to your car while you were busy getting married, my fiance had the inspired idea to hide his pride and joy in the Buick dealer's personal garage. He gave his brother a new can of car wax and told him if the guys just had to write nasty slogans and paint lewd pictures on his car, at least don't ruin the paint job with shaving cream.

I hope the artists were embarrassed when they brought the car back to the church. We drove out of the parking lot to waves and shouts of congratulations. One of the college roommates tossed a bottle of champagne in the back seat as we rolled past him.

We had decided to go to Wichita after the ceremony and then mosey up to Minden, NE. Minden is a ways off the beaten path, but it has an excellent pioneer museum. By the time we arrived in Wichita, it was sprinkling a little. At Kellogg and Airport Road we were waiting for the red light to turn green.  There were three cars in front of us.


THUD!

KATHUMP!

My brand new husband stood on the brake, but we were shoved into the car in front of us just as the light turned green. Behind us, a new Honda Civic had either hydroplaned or utterly failed to notice the traffic wasn't moving. Our day was ruined, but that driver had a day he'd never forget. An Olds 88 had plowed into him and turned his Honda into an accordion. Miraculously, he was not injured.

The people in the car in front of us were detained while the police investigated the accident.  Their car only had a scratch on the bumper. There was no visible damage to the front of our car either.

There we sat, holding up traffic, with some horrible art decorating the car. Maybe that guy in the Honda didn't hydroplane after all. Perhaps he was trying to read what was painted in wax on the trunk.

I didn't get out of the car since it was raining harder by then. I didn't want to ruin my gorgeous hairdo. A very nice police officer stuck his head in the window and offered me congratulations.

There was considerable damage to the rear of the Buick. Fortunately, it was drivable. When we got to our hotel, we sheepishly called home and told both sets of folks we had been in an accident, no, we weren't hurt, and please let the insurance agent know. I was SO glad we didn't have to ask them to bring us another vehicle to drive, or worst yet, come and get us.

That little chore finished, we decided to sample the champagne. Remember, it was shaken a good bit when it was thrown into the car two hours earlier. Then it was severely jostled in the wreck. I had given the wire muselet (I had to Google that word) one twist when the cork exploded out of the bottle and champagne showered half the room. It drenched the Gideon Bible on the chest of drawers. There was scarcely enough for us to have a taste.

Our room overlooked a swimming pool one or two floors below us. For some unfathomable reason, I thought that sounded kind of cool when we made reservations. At a truly unreasonable hour the next morning, we were awakened by an instructor with a bullhorn running a swimming class through their drills. Before we could even consider burying our heads under the pillows and going back to sleep, our phone rang.  It was our banker/insurance agent/friend.

"I hear you were approached from the rear," he drawled.

Learning the insurance would cover the repairs, we goofed off in Wichita for half a day. We had a mechanic look at the damage before we drove the car very far. At the small town of Minden, Nebraska, the motel clerk wouldn't check us in until we got our marriage license out of the luggage and proved we were husband and wife.

That was 45 years ago yesterday. Someone commented the honeymoon was almost over before it started, but we say it will never be over.