All My Kittens: Be Careful What You Wish For

I remember saying I was bored. Since then I've been to the states to attend my niece's wedding in New Orleans. Then I had jet lag. Then I got sick. Not swine flu or hiney flu or whatever they're calling it, still, I felt pretty crappy. But the really crazy thing that happened is this: I went to an audition for an all-female cast version of Hamlet thinking at my age I could only really be suitable for the part of Polonius, or Claudius, maybe Gertrude in a pinch. Well lucky me, I got cast as Hamlet and ever since I've been frantically learning lines and going to daily rehearsals. But more about that later.

When my niece, Amy, or Amanda as everyone else seems to call her, told me she was getting married there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that I would attend the wedding. First of all, she's my first niece, and there are not too many nieces in the Aldridge family. Secondly, she's the first to get married. Thirdly, I'm crazy about her, fourthly the wedding was to be held in New Orleans, etc.

Amy, the lovely bride "insisted" on posing with the menehune.

Mostly everyone in our family has been married at least a couple of times. When Amy was engaged at eighteen, I recommended that in view of our family history she might consider skipping the first marriage and wait for the second. Apparently, I also suggested that seeing how everyone in our family is very immature, that none of us should get married at all before thirty. So it seems she took my advice; at least she didn't get married in her teens. So I for sure wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to cast eyes on this guy and help welcome into the family. Did I mention the wedding was in New Orleans?

My only worry as my plane touched down in the Big Easy was that after three days hanging out in the French Quarter, eating and drinking with my family, when it came time for the actual wedding I would look like a zombie stuffed into a party dress. Oh well. What can you do?

Here is my brother Jim. I'd like to say he's just being a good sport, but actually he acts like this all the time.

We left very little undone. We roamed up and down Bourbon street, rode the bull at Bourbon Cowboy (the groom's stepmom insisted - and I'm telling you it aint as easy as it looks even after a shot of something that comes in a plastic test tube) ate barbequed shrimp, red beans, boudin, gumbo, oyster po boys and muffellatas. Every time I would escape for a little time on my own, as I'd be heading back to the hotel, I'd get a message on my cell phone: meet in the bar at the hotel in (what was usually) one hour. God! No rest for the wicked. I even went to the casino two nights. The first night I went with Adam and his family, the next night I dragged some of my nephews along. I actually won at black jack and the second night at craps. Not a lot, but enough to walk away happy.

Duh, just my favorite shop sign ever!

The wedding itself was beautiful. Held in the courtyard of the Hotel St. Louis, the ceremony was brief but lovely. We ate, we drank, we danced to famous disco hits. Towards the end of the evening, one of the bridesmaids handed me a nicely pressed white napkin from a basket she was carrying. Assuming it was to blot my sweaty brow, I wiped my face with it and set it aside. Moments later, she chastised me for losing my hankie and gave me another with instructions to hold on to it this time. Then I noticed we were all being herded into the lobby from which I could hear strains of dare I say, marching band music?

What happened next is a little tricky to describe. I was swept along with the other guests, out into the street, where we found the bride and groom dancing to the accompaniment of a four piece marching band while holding parasols over their heads. We then formed a procession behind them, dancing and waving our hankies over our heads, along Bourbon Street and around a full block of the French Quarter, on a Saturday night. I wish my elegant but dainty evening bag had been large enough to hold my camera because the people who stood on the sidewalks watching US (including a rather large party dressed entirely in their pjs and slippers) was a show in itself. I couldn't stop laughing to think that we were part of THEIR New Orleans experience!

After all that I just didn't have that much left in me. My feet were numb for days afterwards. I really need to rethink the whole dancing in high heels thing.

Here he is, liking it HOT. I've noticed that some folks have given their menehune a name, but alas mine does not have one. Suggestions?

Of course I made it back safe and sound and can report to you that New Orleans is still a wonderful place to go, especially for a wedding, and doubly especially if you happen to be there with any or all of the myriad branches and offshoots of my crazy, wonderful family.

I've gone on too long again so I'll have to get back to you on that Hamlet thing. Don't worry; I promise it will be soon.