September 22, 2014

How to Ruin a Bridal Shower

As I mentioned last week, I will be a bridesmaid (for my first time) in my friend, Erika's, wedding next month.

And it turns out that being a bridesmaid involves a lot more than taking pictures in color coordinated dresses.

The thing is, lately I've been struggling to keep the demands of a long distance relationship, an annoyingly clingy career, and, like, general hygiene from spiraling out of control, so things like bridesmaid duties have definitely been on the back-burner. (Or if we're being honest, they're still in the can.) So sadly, I've definitely been the "weak link" of this bridal party thus far.

For example, I was so shocked to find out that we will already be 20-something days into September that, had Erika not said something about her bridal shower, I might have not remembered the bridal shower invitation for Saturday, September 20th, sitting under my Comcast bill that's due in two days.

But luckily, Erika did mention her bridal shower. So, as the schedule person that I am, I was able to throw together an agenda for this weekend scheduled around Erika's bridal shower on Saturday, September 20th, at 4 PM.

So imagine my type-A panic when, on the phone Friday night, Erika told me that the shower was not on Saturday, September 20th, at 4 PM. According to Erika, the shower was in fact on Sunday.

With a note of frenzied hysteria, I asked her are you absolutely sure? Because that's not what my schedule says and if my schedule can't be trusted, what in this world can we trust?

And she told me yes, she was absolutely sure, and to check my invitation if I didn't believe her. So I did check my invitation, which clearly said September 20th, at 4 PM... right under "Shhh... it's a surprise!"

My frenzied hysteria was immediately replaced with the horror of someone realizing minutes too late that they are dangerously close to ruining everything. Everything, in this case, being surprise bridal showers.

So, as I was standing in the back of a dark kitchen the next day at 4:15, I was desperately praying that my "play-dumb-immediately-backtrack" strategy had worked and Erika's family would be successful in surprising her.

Because, you see, Erika moved here from Slovakia when she was seven so, while a lot of her family is back in Europe, the ones who are here are very... Slovak. I love her family dearly; they're the type of people who know how to have a good time and make me realize how funny some American words, like spatula, actually sound. But it takes a very certain type of person to move their family across an ocean, and make something out of literally nothing. Specifically, it's the type you don't want to mess with.

And about 25 of that type were huddled around me in the dark, thinking Erika was about to be in for a grand surprise.

So me, I was hoping that when Erika walked in with her dad three minutes later, she would not say exactly what she said: "Oh, I knew it!" Unfortunately, that was the tip of the iceberg. What sunk Titanic was what she said next, when Erika's mom angrily asked her how in the world she knew. "Nicole told me yesterday."

If you've ever seen the movie Meet the Parents, what happened next felt a lot like the scene when everyone realizes that it's Greg's fault that the wedding is ruined... only imagine Greg surrounded by 25 angry Slovaks. My face was a shade of red that deserves its own paint chip at Home Depot. We'll call it "Utter Humiliation with a Hint of Panic."

Erika spent the next five minutes trying desperately to pull me out from under the bus she had thrown me under but it was no use; I was and will forever be the girl who ruined the Great Slovak Shower of 2014.

Luckily, all was forgiven a few hours and a few glasses of wine later, as we were wrapping random women up in toiler paper. But I can assure you that this incident will not be soon forgotten.

So all I know is that above all else, my goal for Erika's wedding day is to avoid salads at all costs... because so God help me if I'm the one with spinach in my teeth in the wedding album.