Oy!

I had my first wedding nightmare. The entire thing took place at my grandmother's house. Furiously cooking the food, present family ignored my cries for help. Tony Sopprano was there, who turned into my Uncle Bart at some point (and if you knew my uncle, it's not a far stretch). I look at the clock- it's 6pm (the time my wedding starts) and yelled to my sister (the maid of honor) that we need to get a move-on. She's asking how we're getting all these people to the place and I'm more concerned with taking a shower, doing my hair and make-up.

Suddenly, I'm at a Denny's in Monmouth County. Still in shorts and a t-shirt, FREAKING OUT about how I'm going to get to the place. Some chick in a wheel chair tells me to hop on and we proceed to roll down the highway, I on her lap. We get to a hill, and she decided to take the opportunity to try to climb/walk up. Frustrated by the delay, I grab a bicycle and pedal along. It's 6:20 and I'm frantically calling my man, who (of course) never picks up; something about him not forgetting the rings.

Suddenly, I'm back at my grandmother's, it's the day after and I have to walk the puppy my sister gave us as a wedding present ( I look down, and the carpet was a mess - but then realize it's wine stains). And at first, the poor thing couldn't get up and breathing erratically from dehydration.

That's when I awoke to a wildly beating heart.

Other than that, everything's swell.

How Quickly They Forget

Upon my arrival to Port Authority this morning, NYC's finest were promptly evacuating the building. Everyone.

We're led to the nearest exit, Southeast side of the building which consists of two down escalator, no stairs.

The lady behind me sighs and says, loud enough for everyone to hear, "God forbid this is a terrorist attack, nobody's moving!"

Which wasn't true, we were all walking down -but apparently not fast enough for her.

I turn around and say in a soft tone, "Panicking doesn't help."

This ruffles her feathers even more, "NO! NO ONE'S TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY!"

So I say, "Hey, I survived 9-11."

And with the most hateful scowl on her face, she hisses, "Well good for you!"

The guy in front of me turns around before I could say anything (quite frankly, I was in shock from her remark), "Shut-the-fuck-up, lady!"

We get to the bottom, I step to the side and lead out my arm, "G'head, ya nasty fuckin' bitch." And she SPRINTS to the door.

I can only fantasize a cab plowed into her as she ran to safety.