First Weekend of Fun... After the Fire

This past weekend was the first time since the fire that I was truly able to let go and revel in some wonderfully sinful activities. I got out of Albuquerque and into Chicago on Thursday and spent a low-key night with Alisha and her boyfriend Rob. I spent Friday morning very much like I had spent the past week and a half: trying to make a dent in my email backlog, doing some more work on the inventory of stuff that I lost in the fire, returning phone calls in a somewhat haphazard manner. I went to Victoria’s Secret to purchase my first bra after the fire (a very sexy strapless so that I could wear the strapless gown with the sky-high slit that I was borrowing from Alisha).

As an aside, I’d like to take a moment to give a shout out to Alisha, who I always seem to crash with when I am in town. And for some reason or another, the last two times I’ve visited, I have needed clothes and shoes for which she never hesitates to lend me (the other time, I was in Chicago but my luggage was in Dallas).

That afternoon Alisha and I got pedicures. It was the first time I’d ever had one. I’ll admit, it felt amazing and my toes looked spectacular afterward.

Friday evening, I checked into the hotel room that the boys and I were splitting, left Jon and Brian’s names at the front desk, and headed out to the groom’s dinner. I didn’t really know anyone there aside from Diana & Jim and Bonnie & Curt, so I scanned the place for a good table to crash and ended up sitting down with a group of Jim’s friends. The food was excellent, the wine flowed freely, and I was able to enjoy an evening with a group of folks who had no idea I had lost all of my possessions in a fire the previous week. We took the party to the streets after leaving the restaurant and did some old fashioned Chicago bar hopping before we were shut down. With the aid of the wine and the company, I was able to temporarily leave my thoughts about the fire behind and just enjoy getting to know a new group of awesome people. I laughed, I swore, I told bawdy stories, I crashed Tyler & Dan’s hotel room when we took the party there. It was exactly the same experience I would have had if the fire had never happened. I didn’t want the night to end.

Of course, the text message that I got from Brian the next morning was, “Are you alive?”

After verifying my existence, I met up with Jon and Brian and walked around Chicago for a few hours, taking pictures, hula hooping, taking bets on when Matt would show up at the wedding events that evening.

Matt arrived at the Trump Tower just in time to miss the entire ceremony.

The wedding itself was everything I anticipated and more. Diana looked stunning. She (and the wedding in general) was beautiful beyond words. It was fantastically catered. The dachshund ice sculpture that peed out “wini-tinis” did not disappoint. The dance floor was hot. I was in a full fledged, champagne-fueled, party mode in almost no time.

It was wonderful to see lots of familiar faces. The usual debate crew was all there, along with many others, some of whom I hadn’t seen in nearly 10 years. And while I can’t quite say the night was exactly as it would have been if the fire had never happened, it was close. It was Diana and Jim’s day, after all, and we were all there to celebrate their commitment and have a good time.

I wasn’t going to let anything come between me and this vacation, but I was concerned last week that I wasn’t going to be able to let my mind go and have fun. Honestly, I was a little scared that the champagne, combined with the no-expenses-spared fabulousness and consumption, would not mix well with my current situation and result in an all-out bawl-fest for me. But after Friday evening’s festivities, I was certain that I was going to be able to put it all out of mind temporarily, and it mostly worked. It was one of the most fun weekends of my life and not one I will ever forget.