07.22.02 - 8:34 p.m.

Sigh. Forced updating so I won't forget one lovely moment of our lovely road trip. Here we go.

Our final day in Chicago, we got up and ran around like two wee confused beasties. I popped over to Erin's office to drop off the Howie CD I brought all the way from Jersey and which sure as hell wasn't coming all the way back with me, while Dan went to load up the car like the nice, ruggedly handsome pack mule that he is. We checked out, I made sure there were no minibar charges because the damn lock was broken the whole time (and thank you for that, Palmer House!), we went to the parking garage, we found out from the nice attendant that parking would be $15 LESS if we had paid at the hotel, which no one at the hotel conveniently informed us of, so we went BACK to the hotel, paid, went BACK to the parking garage and were on our way.

But it wouldn't have been a day in Chicago if we hadn't visited a museum, so on the way outta town we stopped at the Museum of Science and Industry to see the Titanic exhibit and the baby chickies...and to eat some astronaut ice cream. The Titanic exhibit, I have to say, was quite well done, even if we did quote Jim Cameron's insufferable movie the whole time. (Yes, I own that movie. And yes, I do still watch it every now and then. But that doesn't mean I can't mock it.) We walked through reproductions of the grand staircase ("Make it count - ") and the sleeping quarters for all the classes and saw many many things that were rescued from the wreck, like toilets! But the two best parts had to be the picture of the real Mr. Andrews so Dan and I could make more Victor Garber/Alias jokes and the reproduction of the outdoor promenade, complete with icy air and stars and fake water. It was great. We wanted to waltz and I got to say a few ultra-cheese Kate Winslet lines while looking over the side of the "boat."

Sadly, Dan did not buy me the $30 plastic "Heart of the Ocean" necklace in the gift shop. He did offer to sketch me nude, but I refused without that "awful, heavy thing. I only wore it that once." Gah! Make it stop! No more quoting of Titanic dialogue!

So we waited for chicks to hatch, but none did, so we watched the newborns drag themselves around the incubator while the fluffy older ones peeped around on the other side, and we walked through the 727 hanging from the balcony and then we left. With my ice cream.

After a mere two-hour drive, we rolled into the South Bend Marriott, complete with silly hotel restaurant (aw, Bassie!), chloriney smelling pool and atrium. Since we hadn't so much wrapped the wedding gift yet, we headed over to the Osco (yeah! Osco!), examined the bag selection, found none of them to my liking, headed BACK over to the car to get the presents and see if they fit in the bags, only to buy more stuff than we needed to wrap with anyway. Sheesh. It is seriously my one artistic downfall, wrapping is. We met Matt and headed over to some yummy deli for 34 oz. amber bocks and sammiches, and then down the street to BW3 for more trivia, beers, and a lovely jukebox. I love trivia. I wonder why I didn't play it more at Bucknell.

On Saturday we woke up and attempted to get burgers (well, something else non-red meat for me) at CJ's, but, as has happened SO MANY FREAKING TIMES on this trip, CJ's was closed. Didn't open till 5 pm. When we'd be in church watching people get married. So no burgers for Dan and Matt. We had Mexican instead, went to the mall to exchange Dan's shower kit because the Eddie Bauer on State St. had been closed TOO and searched in vain for a Powerpuff t-shirt for moi.

Spiffing ourselves up at the Marriott, I realized my dress was WAY more cleavage baring than I remembered and thanked my lucky stars for packing the boob-enhancing bra. Very appropriate for entering the House of God. I put Dan on boob patrol and we headed off to the church. The ceremony was fine and dandy and completely reaffirmed my intentions to have NO ONE who is not ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY in my wedding. No bridesmaids, no pointless frou frou readers and absolutely positively no children. The flower girl tried to play in the holy water basin (the holy water jacuzzi, as it was extremely large and set into the floor) instead of doing her job. Oh, Bassett will still be my Pupp of Honor, but that's it. Nothing else.

I don't even know how I'm going to handle the parental arrangements, but that's another story.

At the reception, I thought more about how everything I do is going to be completely different from what was going on in front of me. The DJ was supremely awful, miscuing songs and filling the space with some of the worst banter I've ever heard. I don't even listen to morning radio and this guy was worse. People toasted to the many many rugrats in the bride and groom's future, which to me is like putting a Gypsy curse on me, and I severely hoped I'd be hearing none of that on my wedding day. Once again I wondered who my moom would dance with during the parents' song, and that made me sad. The DJ busted out various and annoying tricks to get everyone dancing, and when he got to the "snowball," our entire table bolted for the safety of the bar. Matt's table was not so lucky. We looked back in at one point and they were goners. Table 5 was hit.

I finally can accept that marriage may be a good thing, and I will be very happy to be Mrs. Striped Tiger one day, but I still haven't quite got my head around the wedding thing. Me and the wedding day - we're eyeing each other warily, "circling each other like Venezuelan flamingos engrossed in a complex mating dance," as Ed Stevens would say.

I can't remember why or when we decided to leave, but finally we said our goodbyes without setting one pinky toe on the dance floor and Matt chauffeured us back to the hotel in his hot Neon.