On Saturday, we attended our first wedding since, you know, getting married ourselves in May.
Our wedding invitation was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson. I had my first Carrie Stevenson placecard. I got to enjoy being a guest instead of being a bride (which was incredible and I loved it, by the way, but boy are you exhausted at the end of the night).
They had a beautiful day. Beautiful, and blisteringly hot.
I understand now why Grecians wore this type of dress in sweltering heat.
While I watched them at the altar, I had vivid memories of being a literal hot mess behind my veil a few months ago. I recalled Kyle whispering sweet nothings about how sweaty he was in his tux during the ceremony. This was in MAY, y'all. Like, the time of freshness and mild, pleasant temperatures, right? Heinz Chapel scoffs at the very notion of mild weather, except possibly in the winter... but most likely not, I bet it's still steamy.
Here's the thing. To get married there, you have to really, really want to get married there. You must first do battle over the phone lines on the first day of the month with 1,000 other brides who want to get married the same month you do NEXT YEAR. Then, be prepared to fork over a hefty chunk of change. Next, make sure you understand their 100 rules and regulations for vendors. Finally, emphasize over and over to your officiant, wedding party, and guests that everyone must be on time and everyone must be out of there within 1 hour. Bonus points if you can do this with Catholic Nuptial Mass and a chronically late family like mine. Oh, and it has no air conditioning... so please don't break a sweat over any of this.
It is so, so worth it though. Holding our wedding there was one of the best decisions we made.
Enough about us... the light during their ceremony was incredible. Some of the highest stained glass windows in the world!
I'm not posting any pictures of the bride and groom because I didn't ask and they're currently laying on a beach somewhere, but rest assured: everyone was stunning!
And then... the reception. It was at a gorgeous restaurant overlooking the city of Pittsburgh. The centerpieces had crystals hanging and sparkling in the candlelight.
We danced and drank and drank and danced (and drank). Fireworks went off following the Pitt game outside of Heinz Field, lighting up the three rivers and drawing oohs and ahhs from the wedding guests. It was wonderful.
The party went until 1 AM, and this is where things get messy (of course). At this point we were all handed sparklers and assembled on the sidewalk to send them beautifully off into married life. Except most wedding guests were exceptionally drunk, and here's the thing, everyone... I'm afraid of sparklers. Like, very very afraid of them. And they were really really big ones.
Long story short, Kyle now has a burned knuckle and the soles of his black dress shoes are semi-melted from stomping my sparkler out on the street as quickly as possible after the bride and groom left.
Pre-sparklers. He still has a healthy knuckle and soled shoes. As usual, I have demon eyes.
And that right there is true love, and married life as I know it, and I wish Rachel and Matt the same happiness in the months and years to come. Thank you to my wonderful husband for saving me from certain, fiery death.