Last weekend, I flew to Chicago for a real down-home Yankee wedding.
On Friday, after 7 hours of flying/waiting/freaking-the-f*ck-out (thanks, Delta Airlines! You rock!), I finally made it O'Hare airport. Then I spent another hour packed into the back of a tiny Honda Accord driving to Naperville, IL.
Surprisingly, the streets of Naperville looked just like those of any town in rural South Carolina -- only with black dirt lining the pavement instead of red clay. Oh, and there were all sorts of "Real Housewives of New Jersey"-looking half-built mansions sitting around in various states of decay because the rich bitches who bought them ran out of money and left them there to rot.
On Saturday, I headed down to the local Presbyterian church, where a huge congregation was assembled for the wedding. It wasn't surprising that, since the bride and groom are religious, that their ceremony would be, too. It was, however, a bit weird when the whole audience was asked to "lift their hands for the usual blessing of the church."
Don't get me wrong -- blessings are great. But this particular blessing involved a particularly strange hand gesture...
No joke, folks. Right there in the middle of being married, the happy couple was "blessed" by a crowd raising its hands in collective "salute" to their future...um...joy.
That, or either I'd mistaken a Nazi rally for a wedding.
On Sunday, I headed over to do some sight-seeing at Navy Pier. It was a fun-filled day of beer, mango daiquiris, pina coladas, crab cake sandwiches and more beer. Oh, and some creepy guy playing with marionettes.
After that and a pound of beer-boiled hot dogs, I took a couple rides on the Ferris Wheel and felt like a true Yankee, born and bred... well, minus the annoying nasal-y accent and pushy personality, that is.