Thursday, Becca and I headed out into the desert in search of turkey. We arrived at the Marriott Resort & Spa in Rancho Mirage (near Palm Springs) and got together with various of my relatives. The occasion for this weekend's outing was
the wedding of my step-brother & his fiance, which I was asked to perform (since I am known as a class act that works cheap). In addition to my dad and his wife (the groom's mother), my grandparents and an aunt and uncle combo were present. We chatted for a bit, and eventually went off to a completely different Marriott Resort & Spa for dinner. It was buffet style, which was a drag, but it was certainly some of the best food I've ever had at a buffet. Got my turkey, at least, although my desire for pumpkin pie was thwarted. Becca brought me back a tart the size of a half dollar and covered in pecans that was attempting to pass itself off for pumpkin pie, but I was not fooled.
Uncle Rick's penchant for a little flashy showing off was indulged by his choice of
Rémy Martin cognac for an after dinner drink. Certainly the best cognac I've ever tasted, but not likely to become my regular tipple. I hereby dub it
miruvor.
Friday morning, we had a little get together for my dad's birthday. Then Becca tested out the jacuzzi for a bit. Friday afternoon/evening was the rehearsal and dinner at one of the country clubs. At, but not in. We hadn't realized the ceremony was outside, and once the desert sun sets behind the
San Jacinto mountains, it gets pretty chilly out there. SO we didn't have time or inclination for much more than a wham-bam-thank-you-minister outline of the ceremony. Then we went to the rehearsal dinner, which was Hawaiian-themed, since the snowy mountains and chill breezes remind one instantly of that tropical paradise. Buffet #2, but still pretty good food, and I can't complain about the endless string of pina coladas I had.
Saturday, Becca and I trekked out early to see something more of the area than could be seen from within the confines of a luxury resort compound. Rancho Mirage is a strange place. It's basically a resort, because people built resorts there and advertised them. There's no there there. It was sort of like driving back in time, as we pointed the car toward Palm Springs and let the road take us where it would. We got a great breakfast at the
International Cafe, which rates a 3 on food and 2 on Gay Presence, which means my gaydar blip on the four guys in the corner was probably merited.
Now fortified, we determined to do a little necessary shopping for Becca to protect her against the cold of the main event. Rebecca found a jacket that fit the bill, and has the added bonus of looking like it's made of authentic muppet-fur. It's an extravagant pink, and it's apparently like wearing a nice snuggly blanket.
Got in the suit and off to the country club for the main event. At the country club gates, I tell the security guy that we're here for a wedding. He looks at me in my suit, and the starlet next to me and says, "I never would have guessed," and waves us through. Hung around the bar a bit to steel my courage, got a few photos taken. Plenty of hurry-up-and-wait, and then it was time for the main event.
The ceremony went pretty smoothly, and the audience may not have noticed that it was completely secular (apart from the readings done by relatives). As with Tapanica's wedding, I started with the service from the Book of Common Prayer and just spent a lot more time degodinating it.
After that monkey-business was over, I signed the banns and got down to some serious champagne-drinking. Dinner was slow in coming, but well worth the wait. Most of the music bit, but I did plenty of dancing. Maybe not as much as Becca wanted, but the music was not inspiring, while in my suit I was perspiring.
Sunday morning, there was one last family breakfast, and then we jetted back to civilization.
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