The wedding started at 4:30 PM and was happening two hours from Richmond. I had an important event the same day until 1 PM. My date and friend, Meredith, lived another two hours away. I should have just RSVP’d no to the wedding.
Meredith hit the road with a three hour buffer for arrival, but Virginia roads can be intolerable, especially ones with bridge tunnels, so Meredith soon informed me she would be later than 1 PM.
Meanwhile, I got out of my event earlier than anticipated and headed home to wait for Meredith’s arrival. I soon realized I had no food in my house other than cantaloupe and crackers and that wasn’t going to sustain me. I decided to order subs for both Meredith and me. I called the sub shop before I ordered to ensure they would arrive in time for us to eat and be on the road. They would, so I placed the order.
My goal was, we would leave Richmond by 1:30 and arrive at our hotel by 3:30, change and shower, and Uber to wedding venue by 4 PM. The wedding was only three miles from our hotel.
Meredith arrived at 1:15. I helped her park her car, loaded her bag into my car, and then we waited for the sandwiches.
Me: “They said they’d be here by 1:20.”
At 1:19, my phone rang. The delivery boy was outside. I met him on my stoop.
Delivery boy: “Do you mind if I take a picture? My boss asked me to.”
I accepted the bag from him and posed, broad grin, bag held out in full display. “Do you want me to take the sandwiches out of the bag?” I suggested.
The delivery boy ignored my question and simply snapped a photo of the receipt on my bag. He did not get any part of me in his photo. I remained posing. This is awkward.
Delivery boy: “Thanks, man.”
Me: “No problem.”
I don’t know why he asked permission to take a photo if he was only taking a pic of a piece of paper.
I returned upstairs with the sandwiches. I had ordered the same thing for Meredith and myself and was surprised to see fries in the bag – something I had not ordered. Hmm, I guess we got lucky. And then I unwrapped my sandwich. This was not what I ordered.
We didn’t have time for this.
“They messed up our order.”
I looked at the receipt on the bag. The price on the receipt was $2 more than what I had been quoted on the phone. I better not have been charged for this.
And then I looked closer at the receipt. The delivery address was North Shields Avenue. I lived on North Boulevard.
We did not have time for this.
“Call him back," Meredith promptly advised.
“You’re right,” I said as I dialed the delivery boy back. “Hey, have you gone too far? I think you gave us the wrong order. This isn’t what we ordered.”
Delivery boy: “Are you sure? You’ll need to call the shop and tell them.”
Me: “No, I think you gave us someone else’s order. This is for North Shields, and I live on North Boulevard. You just delivered this. If you have the North Boulevard order still, we could exchange. We haven’t touched the sandwiches yet. I can even staple the bag back up for you.”
I also don’t have time to call the shop. I have a wedding to be at.
Delivery boy: “Wait, what?”
Me: “The receipt says this order is meant for North Shields, and it’s a totally different order than what we got. Have you delivered the North Shields order yet?”
Delivery boy: “The receipt says a different address?”
Me: “Yes.” The receipt you took a picture of while I modeled like an idiot.
Delivery boy (in the loudest exhale ever; Meredith heard it from across the room): “Oooooh nooooooooo!”
Me: “I’m sorry.” Pause. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Do you still have our order? We can just exchange them.”
Delivery boy: “Oh no. I’m going to have to call the shop. I can bring you back out your right order.”
Me: “Actually, um, I don’t have time. I have to leave for a wedding in ten minutes.”
Delivery boy is probably wondering why I even ordered food if I’m on that much of a time crunch.
“We could just exchange,” I repeat. I’m offering him solutions, but I feel like I’m overwhelming him. “Or we can eat this and you can comp us a free sandwich in the future. I actually know your boss; tell him it’s Cazey’s order. He’ll know who you’re talking about.”
This wasn’t a lie. I personally knew the manager at the sub shop.
Delivery boy: “I don’t actually work for the sub shop. I was just helping them out today for someone else.”
“Let me call my boss.” Delivery boy hung up on me.
“We don’t have time for this,” I told Meredith. “What time is it? 1:30? Shoot. We need to leave.”
Meredith: “Let’s eat the sandwiches we have.”
“You’re right,” I nodded and bit into my lunch.
Halfway through my sandwich, the manager at the sub shop – my friend – called back. He offered to bring out the correct sandwiches and cancel my payment.
“Unfortunately, we already started eating the other order because I have to go to a wedding two hours away that starts in two and a half hours, so we’ll just take our money back, and no worries.” I got off the phone. “Crap, we have to go.”
This was one of those situation where the wedding was still over two hours away, but we had a two hour drive and still needed to get ready once there. I swore we would make up the time on the interstate.
Meredith: “I have to pee first.”
Me: “YOU’VE HAD THE LAST FIFTEEN MINUTES TO PEE! We have to go!”
Meredith: “It will take three seconds.”
Me: “I have to pee, too.”
Meredith: "What are you doing in there? Number two?"
Me: "...No. I'm Instagramming. I'm coming."
We didn’t make up time on the road. We entered a storm instead.
At 3:55 PM, we rolled into the hotel parking lot. I worried there would be a line in the lobby and was prepared to shout, “We have to be at a wedding in 35 minutes, and we need to get ready! Get out of the way!” No one could deny this. I was in shorts and a tank top. My friend was in sweats. We were not ready.
Thankfully, there was no line.
Receptionist: “Can I see your driver’s license and credit card? And will it just be you two for one night?”
Me: “Yes, thank you.”
Receptionist: “Can I see your credit card again?”
No, we have to go.
While the receptionist looked over my credit card, Meredith told her that we were here for a wedding. “It starts in 30 minutes.”
The receptionist looked at us. She knew we would not be ready in time.
We will be ready in time, I smiled back without saying anything.
We entered the hotel room at 4:00 PM.
Meredith: “The closest Uber is seven minutes away. Should I call it?”
Me: “Let me shower first.”
I take two minutes showers fortunately. I pulled on my pants while she requested it.
Ten minutes later, we strode through the hotel lobby, me in a two-piece suit and Meredith in an evening gown. The receptionist’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
I know, right.
Uber driver: “Where are you all going today?”
Meredith: “We’re going to a wedding actually. It’s on Hill Acres Road?”
Me: “Please floor it.”
The venue was supposedly three miles from the hotel. We soon came to a gravel road that branched off from the highway. The gravel road disappeared into rolling green hills. A Windows Vista screen if you will.
Uber driver: “Is this the road?”
Me: “We’ve never been here before, but probably?”
Meredith: “It says Hill Acre Farms; it must be.”
The sign also said “1/2 Mile” below that.
Me: “So if we are late, is it better to slip in behind the bride or just skip the ceremony and meet them at the reception?”
Meredith: “Maybe we can carry the bride’s train?”
I sang, “Here comes the guests, here comes the guests…”
Uber driver: “Do I keep going?”
The gravel road had turned to dirt and now cut between a wooden fence. Beyond the fence was a sign that read “Continue” (and silos).
Meredith: “Yeah, keep going.”
Me: “What if this is the wrong venue? Or the wrong wedding?”
The Uber bobbled over the pockmarked path.
Meredith: “Is this the most exciting ride you’ve had?”
Uber driver: “Yes.”
Cows grazed to our left.
Meredith: “I bet we’re the only ones who took an Uber here.”
Up ahead, a shuttle van materialized on this one-lane road. Crap.
“We don’t have time for this,” I moaned.
Our Uber pulled to the side to let the van pass. I cursed inwardly and thought we should have headed the van off. The van was leaving; we needed to get there. Fool.
We passed another sign that read “Wedding.” So descriptive.
Me: “Do weddings normally start on time? Or, like, are we just supposed to be on site at 4:30?”
Meredith: “I see it! Look, there are people and cars up ahead.”
Me: “Phew, we’re not the only late ones. It still could be the wrong wedding, though.”
A parking attendant attempted to direct us into a space. I rolled down our window. “This is actually an Uber.”
Attendant: “An Uber? Ohh.”
Meredith: “We’re definitely the only ones who Uber’d here.”
Uber driver: “I could drive you up to the entrance?”
Me: “No, we’ll walk.” Let’s not embarrass ourselves too much.
We were seated by 4:26 PM. Vows were exchanged at 4:39 PM. (The bride started walking at 4:31.) Apparently, weddings start on time. But we made it on time.
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