Yesterday I mentioned that I missed the wedding I went to New Jersey to attend. It was just one of those things, but why don't I tell you the whole story?
I decided to take the train up to NJ on Wed night. B1 (my eldest brother) picked me up at the train and took me to his place. On Thursday, I rented a car to drive to the wedding (which was south of B1's town). I offered Uncle Marty a ride--either to get him in Manhattan or pick him up somewhere else convenient for him. We determined that he could take the NJ Transit train to B1's town and I'd fetch him at the station and we'd drive down to the wedding together. It's about a 40 min drive. All this was to save him the trouble of coming out the night before and staying with his daughter, who lives in a town near the wedding town.
I picked up the car on Thursday. Got to the station early and had coffee. Waited. Waited. Waited. Train was VERY late. I asked the attendant where it was. He said, "That train was canceled." I couldn't believe it. Canceled! How could that be? I knew we were screwed. I called B1, even though I knew it wouldn't help. Uncle Marty doesn't have my cell number. I called my cousin (the groom's sister), but only have her home number. I left a message.
Uncle Marty was on the next direct train to B1's town. We were about 40 minutes late and completely missed the ceremony. We arrived the moment the bride and groom walked out of the sanctuary.
On Marty's side, this is what happened: He made the train. It pulled out of the station and not five minutes later, lost power. The train died and they were stuck on it. They had to wait for an engine to pull them back to Penn Station. Marty borrowed a cell phone and called his daughter to tell her what was happening. No one called me (but it wouldn't have mattered). So, they did know we were running late. As soon as I met Marty, I gave him my phone and he called his daughter again.
It wasn't until I got back to B1's and my sister-in-law asked, "Why didn't they wait for you?" that I wondered the same thing.
The good news is that no one seemed particularly upset. The groom was in good spirits. Sadly, they seemed to expect such a thing from Uncle Marty. I kept saying, "Blame me! Blame me!"
The rest of the day was fine. The luncheon was pleasant. No dancing, but good food and a small crowd (35 folks). I spent a lot of time getting to know Emily (the daughter of the sister of the groom), who took a shine to me.
I had a good time with the kid (who is 4 ½). We played and talked. Eventually, she asked me, "Are you a grown up? I think you're a kid. You're not a grown up."
I said, "I'm a grown up."
Emily said, "But you're not as big as them. You're not big enough to be a grown up."
I said, "Yes I am! I'm as big as them."
She said, "Nooo. But you might be a teenager. You're a teenager."
I said, "You know, I'm older than your mommy."
That didn't merit a response--she merely scoffed in disbelief.
I love that she thought I was a kid. I think it's because I don't talk down to kids, rather than any particularly youthful appearance.
After the lunch, we went back to the newlyweds' house (they've been living together for years) and hung out. Uncle Marty refused a ride from me to anywhere and I drove myself home to B1's via the Garden State Parkway. I didn't even get lost.
Grateful for: family.