The Queenbeak
The next morning we quashed our burgeoning hangovers with coffee from Thunderbird and chicken sandos from Bird Bird Biscuit on Manor Rd, which was thankfully just a 12 minute walk from the Airbnb. These people were not concerned with manageable portion sizes or exceeding our daily carb intake. I ordered the Queen Beak and wished they offered some kind of sour slaw or pickles to cut the richness of butter biscuit, crunchy fried chicken, and spicy mayo. G got the Firebird, which had pickles but the sweet kind, which I've never been a fan of. Maybe it's the Szechuan in me, but spicy and salty absolutely need sour and bitter, not just sweetness for counterbalance. Give me kimchi, give me black vinegar, give me zha cai to cut the fat, please!
I didn't feel so hot after my sandwich, G ate the last few bites for me, but I rallied and we waddled back to the airbnb under the relentless sun to change into our wedding attire. My hair went back in a high pony that I braided a red ribbon into (for good luck) and I donned a sleeveless jumpsuit made of tropical wool (yes, it was black) and paired it with some loafers (also black). I definitely suffered silently for this look later, sitting in the bright sun for hours, but I have no regrets. I didn't want to wear a dress or buy an entirely new outfit for this one event, so my options were limited. G wore a pink Hawaiian shirt and off-white pants. Smart guy.
Our Uber was an orange pickup truck. The driver was very nice but that didn't make it any less absurd. We got to the chapel just on time, signed the guest book and took the last pew minutes before all the wedding entourage or whatever started walking out and forming a line in front of the altar. Some little kid came out throwing flowers and cooing echoed throughout the room, lips pressed together in adoration, heads swiveling around and down to watch the toddler pass through the aisle. I doubted it had a single clue as to what was happening, but seemed to like the attention. Finally Andrew walked out, looking sharp and nervous in a blue suit. What must have been his brother stood next to him at the front, simply because they looked so similar. The Goth was there too, tallest amongst the groomsmen, also dressed not in black but in blue, and I felt for him.
Claire walked out accompanied by her parents and everyone stood. People started crying immediately at the sight of her, all in white, her train long and flowing, her skin pristine. The sleeves of her dress strategically covered up the stick and poke tattoos on her arms for photos, and probably her extended family. I want to refrain from using words like radiant or resplendent, but you get the idea.
The ceremony was unorthdox, there was no latin and no heavy-handed mentions of God. The reverend was a cheerful woman with grey hair who used colloquial language in her short sermon. Claire's sister, the bridesmaid, quoted band lyrics in her speech. Andrew's vows were long and windingly poetic, at some point comparing Claire to refracted light and their love being stars moving through space. When it was Claire's turn she expressed regret for not knowing how massive Andrew's vows were going to be, and everyone laughed before she carried on with an equally romantic but more succinct version of his. They kissed, everyone cheered, and as one large cheery crowd, we followed them out of the chapel into the grinding sun where they were now not just a couple, but a married one. Strange how sudden such momentous things come to be. Something is altered and seemingly nothing and everything changes at the same time.
While the wedding entourage stayed back to get official photos, everyone less important took Ubers to the reception, which was at the home Claire grew up in. It was a large stately house. A manor, really, with large white columns in front and a sprawling front lawn. Caterers greeted and led us to the back, which had an enormous wraparound porch with gleaming white balustrades. The yard was at least an acre, housing three very old live oak trees that created incredible shade if you were at the right table, a dozen of which were clustered nearest to the house. On each pristine tablecloth lay an interesting tableau of fruit, veggies and flowers. We took our seats left of center, they weren't assigned, and I tested out a grape, which was very much real. I guess the point was decoration that was sustainable and edible, as well as whimsical, and who could disagree with that?
Food was served and devoured. I remember the roasted carrots being very good; they were covered in a vibrant green chimichurri sauce and sprinkled with toasted pecans. While eating I learned the house was given to Claire's father as the President of Austin's Theological Seminary. He was retiring later in the year and so they would pack up and leave, allowing for the next president to assume the estate. I spent little time inside, only entering to use the bathroom. I got lost immediately and came face to face with photos of Claire and her sister when they were kids. Blonde and cherub-cheeked in white sundresses, they played on the beach or with a dog while smiling into the camera. How bittersweet to be married here, in the house she grew up in, only to say goodbye to it within a few months. New memories replacing the old. New traditions filling in for the outworn.
After everyone had finished, the speeches from the bridesmaids and groomsmen began, namely Claire and Andrew's siblings. Personal stories were recounted, some too quiet, some too fast, but all very wholesome and funny enough to solicit laughter from the crowd. As twilight set upon the yard, the DJ starting playing music and the newlyweds performed their first dance while we all looked on and cheered. The floor opened up, the drinks started to seriously flow, and when Lizzo's Juice came on, I beelined straight to the action.
 |
| Me cutting a rug in my wool jumpsuit. In 95 degree weather :') |
What felt like hours later, the caterers packed up the tables and chairs and we gathered our things, damp with sweat, and craving a cigarette but not wanting to smoke on the premises. Somehow my makeup had not run, despite all my efforts. The Goth invited me to some last minute show where an older band was playing a surprise set. I hesitated but declined so G and I could go back to the Airbnb to shower and get changed– after all, there was an after party to get to.
After an extremely harrowing Uber trip where the driver had his phone in-between his legs and kept looking down at it, clearly not just new to the area but new to driving entirely, we just barely made it off the highway before begging him to drop us off immediately. With shaking knees we walked the rest of the two blocks to LoLo's, a wine bar in the heart of East Austin. Claire had changed into this adorable all-white cowboy-inspired outfit and welcomed us into the back patio where the party was already in full swing. G ordered a bottle for us and whoever wanted it (accidentally on my tab lol) and I chatted with a friend from Brooklyn for a while. He had been a groomsman and was clearly losing steam at this point in the evening, griping about certain responsibilities he had. I spoke to the photographer's partner and then the photographer herself. She kindly snapped a photo of G and I once we had gotten to know each other better. Only afterwards did I realize he and I hadn't gotten a photo of ourselves at the wedding like normal couples do. And we had looked so nice in our outfits! Oh well.
The rest of the night stretched on before us, and at some point we migrated next door to The Volstead Lounge and its conjoined backyard with Hotel Vegas. I was really blown away by all the space bars had in Austin, so much they were able to share it. My NYC-centric idea of long, narrow, elbow-to-elbow bars gave way to the concept of other possibilities and my brain filled with endorphins. Or maybe that was the gin. I spoke for a long time to the Goth, who told me his secrets and made me feel a little lonely, by no fault of his own. We stood under the mist of those marvelous fan/misters for a while before rejoining the others who were all in their own advanced states of drunkenness.
 |
| I barely remember snapping this photo. |
All of us ubered (lots of ubering on this trip, no one told me this is where most of the travel expenses go when attending a wedding) back to the seminary dorms where some of the people were staying and where we all continued to drink and be merry into the wee hours of the morning. We only noticed the time because of the pale pink light seeping across the now periwinkle sky. It was past 6am. We're 30, we shouldn't be doing this shit anymore we moaned, bleary-eyed and totally wasted. My phone had died so a new friend called the cab for us, which must have been uneventful because remember nothing but crawling up the witch steps to our lofted bed on all fours so I wouldn't fall. G's body hit the mattress next to mine and groaning at the sight of dawn outside the window, we drew the little curtains and immediately passed out.