Day 365 - Get Married in Vegas

Date: January 6th, 2010

I woke up in a surprisingly dingy room at the Luxor to the realization that in less than 24 hours I'd be 26 and my project would be complete.  I definitely had one of those "how did I get here" moments as I started acknowledging my surroundings.  The room was freezing, the carpet was musty and there was water damage on the ceiling.  But it was Vegas and Justin was asleep next to me.  I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather have been.

So let's talk about this year a little.  I figure giving y'all actual insight into the project is the least I can do now that its complete.  To do that, I need to take y'all back to last Christmas.  On Christmas Eve last year (2009), my mother made an offhand comment about me turning 25.  Up until that moment I hadn't realized I was about to turn 25 years old.  I had, what I guess you could call an "early life crisis" (anyone calls it mid-life and they're losing a kidney).  I sat down in my room, looked around and asked myself if this was where I wanted my life to be at this point.

Somewhat unrealistically, I'd always imagined I'd be married by 25 and possibly talking about kids.  I saw myself as a fully formed adult, despite being back in my old room for the holidays.  I realized that I hadn't figured myself out.  Now, as I sit here with 20/20 hindsight, I can't imagine knowing so little about myself, but such was the case.  I became fixated not on what I'd done, but on what I hadn't.  I hadn't baked myself a cake.  I never threw caution to the wind.  I hadn't gone to museums.  I found myself boring.

But more than that, I desperately loathed the fact that I hadn't gotten my life where I wanted it personally.  On some level I was forgiving of that, having bet on the wrong horse (so to speak).  On the other hand, for the first time, I became keenly aware of the fact that time only moves forward and does so at its own pace - not ours.  I decided it was time to catch up.  I'd knock at least 365 things off that little bucket list of mine and see how I felt in a year.

When I asked for suggestions and the almost universal cry was to go get married in Vegas, I wondered if the universe was piling on.  See just how much my personal wallowing session could withstand.  I put it on the list and worked hard to ignore it for several months as the project evolved on its own.  It wasn't until May that I had a realization that would change the way I viewed the project and myself.

What happened in May, you ask?  In May, with no prior experience and hideously out of shape, with a fellow rower who had back and shoulder problems, covered in bugs, without sunscreen and having long since run out of fresh water, I canoed nine winding miles down the Two-Hearted River.  Later that night, in the shower at the campsite, I leaned against the tile wall and felt a sense of accomplishment bigger than anything I had ever felt.  I went from nervously wondering if I'd make it through the year to deciding I would.

In that moment, in a public shower in the Upper Peninsula, blistered and peeling, I realized I could make my life into anything I wanted it to be.  I'd been touched by previous days, but this was different.  As I stood there, with water running down my face, I decided that if I wanted to get married at 25, I'd good and gosh darn well get married at 25.

About a month later, I asked Justin (as a friend) to run away with me to Vegas and get married on the last day of the project.  He agreed.

I had no idea I'd end up falling head over heels for my best friend, which, interestingly enough, made things more complicated rather than less.  See, as a friend, it was just an adventure.  But when you're in love, it means something.  Its important.  Even "as a goof" or "for a project" we'd still be reciting vows to each other.  I resolved to myself that if we weren't ready I'd back out.  Knowing I can do something (get married by 25), in this case, was enough that I didn't have to.  We'd long before decided not to make it legal because, well, our families would've made us disappear if we actually eloped.

Even the night before, as my dad was driving us to the airport (something for which I've been endlessly amused), I wasn't sure.  Truth is, I didn't know for sure until pretty darn close to the ceremony.  When we got in, we had a nice snack at the Pyramid Cafe in the Luxor and retired to our freezing, dingy room for the night.  In the morning, as the desert sun rose over the mountains, I still didn't know.  As we walked around the casino floor, looked through the Titanic Exhibit (which was awesome) and pulled a pearl from an oyster, I still didn't know.  I had a momentary realization that I probably wanted to marry him... someday.

Later that morning, we walked around old Vegas (the Fremont St. experience is what they call it), holding hands and taking pictures (which will make their appearance at the end).  I hadn't let the thought of the ceremony enter my head quite yet.  We walked over to the chapel and talked through the ceremony with their coordinator, which was the exact moment it got real and my feet got cold.  What if it was too big a step?  What if it meant different things to him than me?  We aren't just friends - we're a couple.  Girlfriends and boyfriends have a responsibility to guard each other's hearts.  Yeah, it was hitting me.

The coordinator led Justin into the chapel around the time that Elvis showed up.  What?  Its not a Vegas wedding without Elvis.  Seriously.  Anyway.  While Justin stood in the chapel, I stood outside with my rented silk bouquet and a gold-shirted Elvis.  I stared off into space, trying to figure out once and for all if this was the right thing for me, only to be jerked back to reality by Elvis asking an all important question.  Since what we were doing was officially called a Commitment Ceremony, he wanted to know if he should use commitment language or if he should use wedding language. 

He essentially asked me point blank if, on that day, in that moment, at that place, I wanted to call Justin my husband.  That's when I knew.  Even if it was just until we flew home.  Even if it wasn't legal.  Even if the real thing wouldn't be for years and years.  Right then, I was ready.

As I walked down the incredibly short aisle, arms linked with Elvis, singing along to "Can't Help Falling in Love", I locked eyes with Justin, who winked and grinned at me.  It occurred to me that there was a sort of fundamental rightness to that moment.  It was right for us that we went to Vegas.  It was right for us that Elvis serenaded us.  It was right for us to be there, doing what we were doing.  And it was just as right that we not get actually married for a while.  It was just a right that it not be a legal marriage.  And it truly hit me that we both knew exactly what we were doing.

The rest of the ceremony was a hilarious blur.  Elvis themed vows, huge grins and "Viva Las Vegas" still ringing in my ears.  When it was over, we walked hand in hand to the Stratosphere Tower at the north end of the strip for dinner.  We spent the rest of the night calling each other "hubby" and "wifey", knowing that when we got home it was back to boyfriend and girlfriend.  We had our wedding dinner at a 50's diner called Roxy's that was playing Elvis movies in the background before going to Planet Hollywood for our version of wedding cake.

After dessert, we basked in the decadence of Vegas, walking around Caesar's forum shops and marveling at the water show at the Bellagio.  We went to the top of the Stratosphere tower and rode the Big Shot, propelling ourselves up above the Vegas skyline.  We walked over to New York New York and rode the coaster.  We made love on the sidewalk with a young man who's name we didn't catch (that one requires some back story).

The point is - we spent a day being joyful.  We spent an evening with no where to be and no one to answer to.  It was perfect.  Just like the ceremony, there was a fundamental rightness to the whole day.  Unlike last year when I woke up wondering if this was how my life was supposed to go, I just knew.  And I still know.  I'm where I should be, doing what I should be doing, headed where I should be going. 

I don't know that there's anything left to tell.  You've all seen where I was and now you know where I am.  I guess all the remains is pictures.  A glut of pictures!

 Our amazing room key.  It was significantly less dingy than the room.

 We were in the pyramid.  Our window was delightfully tilted.  I requested it.

 We spent a couple days harassing the cats of Vegas.  We're not cat people.

 The Luxor.  Shiny.

 Old Vegas was amazing.  Classic.

 Turns out this was a gentleman's club.  There was no way to know that.

 You can pay people to let you jump off this building.  Just saying.

 The view from the top.

 This would be the Big Shot.  On top of the tower.

 Classy.

 Cause when I think of glitz, I think of balloons.

 Uh-huh.  Oh yeah!

 We're pretty.

 Caesar is not pretty.

 Cutting the cake.

 Because really, I'm the one who'll smear it at the real wedding too.

 You green?  Super green.

 You give that lion what for!

 The strip at night.

 Making love on the sidewalk.

 New York New York

 Totes the best casino evar, guise.

 We may or may not have been really tired at this point.

Ok.  We were really tired at this point.

You may have noticed a conspicuous absence of wedding pictures.  See, there was a photographer included with our awesome wedding package so... those shots are coming soon!  I promise, our Elvis will not go unrecognized for his hard work.