Blowout

The Setup
Today’s account will be of the experience that I had being one of 100 some odd Brides to be at a Kleinfeld’s / Brides Magazine / Good Morning America event. I got put on to the event by Maxine (Thanks Max!) who was selected and had asked if there was a way to bring a guest, but they said no. She offered to send me the email and see if I could get in on my own. I accepted and did just that. Emailed them, buttered them up and begged. I got on the list. We had to report to this spot at 6:45 by the first email and then the later email stated 6:15. So, I came home pretty early last night and was in bed and knocked out by 11:30 (totally unusual for me). My eyes popped open at 3:30 AM and I tossed and turned for another half hour and finally wrenched myself out of the bed at 4:00 AM. I showered, dressed, made up… all the while thinking about the fortune I got at dinner the other night “You will recieve a high prize or award.” I thought about the fortune that had come my way in a number of ways lately and I wonder if that was my prize… or could it be Mega Millions (*crossing fingers*) or could it be this event today? Who is to say? I can just show up and hope for the best.

Arrival
I called the cab at 5:15 and got to the building at 5:45. There were about 10 other brides standing out side talking about what might happen today. We all heard the words “compete” and “showdown”… so we exchanged early apologies. One bride-to-be stated boldy, “umma let y’all know right now — I’m going for the gold.” So we were all on our guards, but keeping smiles on our faces. Max showed up after a little bit looking super regal in her Moshood garb with turquoise accent. We stood there for a little while and then eventually went inside and got registered and seated. The gist was that there were 100 some odd brides… there were 200 balloons… 20 “tickets” that got you entrance in to 3 stretch limos to go to Times Square to compete for bigger prizes by diving into a 15 foot by 6 foot bridal bouquet.

Smarties
In the meantime there’s a fashion show and Max and I are seated in prime positioning for some camera play and right in front of Becky and Buffy. OH. MY. GOD. If they didn’t shut up, I think Max and I would have partaken of some mutual euthanasia. They were remarking how one couple had candies on their table instead of flowers “because they both liked candy so much so they replaced the flowers with smarties and red hots… how cuuuuuuute;” and another couple they knew didn’t have kids in the wedding so they had their dogs walk up the aisle instead. Huh? I leaned over to Max and said “Kill me” and she responded “Do it now” and we cackled loudly over their droning about nothingness. The room was bright white accentuated by the white that all the women were wearing and the bright lights. There were some serious doorknob rings in the room: just huge and elaborate. But my wire heart frame keep me grounded.

Bacchanal
Finally the time came to pop the balloons (with bic pens) and uncover these tickets). Two words: May HEM. These semi docile and sort of almost civil women became raving lunatics when the balloons made their appearance. Pushing, shoving, punching, trampling, clotheslining, rummaging, scavengering, grunting, yelling, squealing. It all abounded there on that floor for those few moments. I got stabbed with a pen and stepped on.

Resignation
When we all realized that all the tickets were gone and they whisked the women who were so fortunate off to their final destination, the rest of us sat back down consoling ourselves that we were told that there were three final prizes to be recieved by the catcher of a tossed bouquet. Um… okay. Li’l background on me – I NEVER participate in that. When I was single… not now that I’m engaged… and I never will. The sheer animal brutality that happens on those dancefloors of the world is blight to womanliness and femininity. Plus, I don’t want to mess up my hair. But when one of the bouquets headed my way… I reached for it… (mind you… we’re still in our chairs… EXTRA BAD) — lunged forward and the back of the chair impaled me RIGHT ON MY pubic bone. I hurt for minutes later but the woman next to me hopped to it and grabbed the bouquet right from my line of fire. Good for her, I thought. Sucks that I signed away my rights and indemnified them for the black and blue that I KNOW I’d have to explain to my baby should he look down there. They gave the remainder of us a sorry little consolation prize with makeups I’ll never use, and a $500 gift certificate that is REPLETE with strings and conditions. (Good only on a purchase of $2500 or more and AFTER the initial deposit, etc) *shrugs*

Redemption

I left there feeling really sad. Like, I’d gone there to accomplish something and I didn’t. I sulked away from the experience to console my sorrows in a little breakfast with Max. Talking to her made me realize I felt great and blessed about having the story I’d be able to tell my kids one day about their auntie and me and our escapades through the town. Then, on the way, I checked my messages and got one from my baby. He told me how he caught a glimpse of me on the television and how if that’s anything like I’m gonna look in 2007, then he can’t wait and he needs to hit the gym harder and how much he loves me and thinks I’m beautiful and how he looks forward to being my husband.

There was my high prize. There wasn’t even a doubt in my mind about it.

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