Nothing like two weddings in a week, especially if one of them is your own… I’m currently sitting in the Alaska Airlines Board Room at the Seattle-Tacoma airport, using their wireless internet, munching on carrots and drinking a beer. I got an automated call this weekend informing me I’d been upgraded to first class, and today I talked my way into the Board Room for my four-hour layover tonight. It’s a fitting end to a wonderful weekend.
Friday night, I arrived in San Diego, and, after a prolonged customer-relations experience at Hertz, got my rental car, checked into the Courtyard Marriott (a former bank; gym located on the Safe Deposit level), and headed to PETCO Park, where, armed with my PDF ticket (useful, but a bit of a letdown and not much of a souvenir), I found Michael, Aron, and eight or ten friends and family. I caught up with Aron and enjoyed the tight but somewhat punchless game; the Giants prevailed, 3-2, the game turning on a great catch but poor throw by shortstop Khalil Greene. The park was nice – great location, easy to get around in – but not very striking.
The weekend was just beginning – after the Friday ballgame, we had a Saturday barbeque, a Sunday wedding, and a Monday brunch, each of which I was happy to attend. It was really a perfect wedding: I got to hang out with Michael and Ali’s friends, many of whom I got along with so well I wanted to invite to our wedding this weekend, plus I got some actual quality moments with the bride and groom. The wedding was really beautiful, on the water on Coronado Island, with the San Diego skyline in the background, and the ceremony was a combination of touching and light-hearted that really captured the kind of people Michael and Ali are.
In addition to each evening’s activities, I had the better part of both Saturday and Sunday to explore the area, which meant a half-dozen museums, nearly as many photobooths, the beach in Mission Bay and La Jolla, and some beautiful coastal drives. Seeing the ceremony and being a part of the festivities, it began to sink in that in five days, the same thing will be happening to us. I don’t feel nervous, just excited, and I’m ready to see all my friends and family and enjoy the festivities.
On a side note, as I sit here in the Seattle dusk watching the fireworks on the horizon, it dawned on me that eight years ago today, five weeks into a six-week road trip George and I took across the country, we spent Independence Day here in Seattle, watching the fireworks from the studio of Dale Chihuly, in “The Boathouse” overlooking Lake Union. A weird night in a series of weird nights, and now here I am, eight years later. Funny.
Photos of the weekend will be forthcoming on Flickr.
