Today is my 11th wedding anniversary. It’s hard to believe that it’s been more than eleven years since my husband presented me with an engagement ring in the parking lot of a Bagel & Bagel restaurant on my dinner break.
Yes, it’s been more than eleven years since I told my family, "We’re taking a trip to Las Vegas in December and we’re going to get married while we’re there."
Of course, tipping our hand turned out to be a big miscalculation when we ended up dragging NINE people (mostly members of both our families) to Las Vegas with us for the wedding. If you’re considering getting married in Las Vegas, take my advice and elope.
When we arrived in Vegas eleven years ago, we learned that its courthouse had the whole license application thing down to a level of casualness we hadn’t expected. The forms had been duplicated so many times that we could hardly read them. We filled one out, paid our $15 and we were ready to get married at the chapel of our choice.
We had the ceremony at the Silver Bell Wedding Chapel (which has since burned down), my husband wearing an Armani suit he bought at our local Junior League Thrift Store (also for $15) and I wearing my mother’s wedding dress from 1965, which I’d had altered slightly to make the boobs less Barbarella-like. I made my own veil from a kit I got at a craft store. My shoes were beautiful, but so hideously uncomfortable that they made me want to hurt other people just to share the misery.
Last year for our tenth anniversary we went all out: a trip back to Las Vegas to renew our vows with an Elvis minister. Here’s my account of that trip: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V. Considering that I am probably still carrying the resulting credit card balance, you can understand why this year’s celebration will be somewhat muted in comparison.
I have a reservation tonight at an Argentinian restaurant set high on a hill overlooking the town below. I’ve requested a table by the window so we can admire the lights and snowy landscape. We’ve done all the glitz of Vegas and now we’re ready for a leisurely celebration that will give us the chance to sit, talk, and remember why we got married in the first place.
I don’t think my husband reads this very often anymore, but just in case, "Happy Anniversary, Honey!"
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