Lord knows I have had enough practice. The first time I got married, I was 19. That one didn't work out real well. Neither did the next one. Alex and I were driving up to Lake Tahoe to get married in September of 1989. By the time we reached Sacramento, I realized that in my haste to leave, I had changed bags and didn't have an Identification card with me, although I did have some credit cards, a checkbook, and my library card.
Since we were over half-way to our destination, I figured we'd just go ahead and see what happened. We were both a little nervous and on edge anyway, but we had already rented the condo and made the commitment to get this done.
We checked into our condo, and found a local chapel who said they would marry us even without my proper identification. The ceremony was actually quite nice. The minister used some kind of an Apache prayer as part of our service. Our witnesses were the man and his wife who owned the chapel.
For a charge we could have the recording of the wedding ceremony but we decided we didn't need that. Nor did we opt for the photo package. We just wanted to get hitched and get out of there.
We both let out a sigh of relief when it was over and left the chapel. Across the street, there was a chain restaurant called "Carlos Murphy's". We went directly to the bar and ordered two double shots of tequila. We tossed down our drinks and returned to the condo.
We ordered a pepperoni pizza and watched a movie. I remember it was snowing and very cold outside. I slipped into my gold lame Bob Mackie teddy with the matching robe and sat around looking glamorous for a while we drank champagne and watched the snow fall and waited for our pizza.
It was my best wedding ever.
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