(source)Not quite, but almost.
I'll start from the beginning. Sunday afternoon we got all spiffied up and left the house around 5:30 to make it to the reception by 6. We found a parking spot at the local country club and headed in the direction of other fancy looking people. Closer to the clubhouse we spotted a sign for the Jones/Brown* reception and headed up the stairs to the pavilion. There were plenty of people already gathered and servers were butlering hors d'oeuvres and champagne cocktails. Side note: we were not expecting alcohol of any kind at this shin dig. I spotted the gift table and just as I was finding a spot to place our gift, the future mister stopped me. The sign on the table said Miller - NOT Jones or Brown! And he didn't recognize the photos on the table either, or anyone else milling about for that matter. Crap! Whose wedding were we at and how do we find where we need to be? We asked a server - no help there. So we headed back toward the parking lot and found something that looked like a front desk of sorts.
I'll start from the beginning. Sunday afternoon we got all spiffied up and left the house around 5:30 to make it to the reception by 6. We found a parking spot at the local country club and headed in the direction of other fancy looking people. Closer to the clubhouse we spotted a sign for the Jones/Brown* reception and headed up the stairs to the pavilion. There were plenty of people already gathered and servers were butlering hors d'oeuvres and champagne cocktails. Side note: we were not expecting alcohol of any kind at this shin dig. I spotted the gift table and just as I was finding a spot to place our gift, the future mister stopped me. The sign on the table said Miller - NOT Jones or Brown! And he didn't recognize the photos on the table either, or anyone else milling about for that matter. Crap! Whose wedding were we at and how do we find where we need to be? We asked a server - no help there. So we headed back toward the parking lot and found something that looked like a front desk of sorts.
We asked the woman at the front desk and she kindly told us that the reception we almost crashed was the Miller reception. And the event sheets she had didn't even mention the Jones/Brown reception. Could it be in another location? She didn't think so. Well, she finally got someone knowledgeable on the phone and as soon as she started chuckling I knew what we had done. The reception we were supposed to attend was SATURDAY, MAY 29th - not Sunday, May 30th. OMG! How does that happen! I am the queen of organization and somehow I had it scheduled as May 30th - not only on my iPhone, but also on my calendar at work (and, of course, in my rush to get out of town last Friday, I forgot the actual invitation on our fridge). HOW EMBARRASSING!
Oh well. We laughed it off and went out to dinner in our fancy duds. We still feel bad since we RSVP'd, but it was a high school friend of the future mister's and they probably haven't spoken in at least three and a half years, if not more. We tried calling the groom's parents and left our gift with the future mister's parents since they are friends of the family and were willing to deliver it for us. Any other suggestions on how to remedy our blunder?
*names changed to protect the innocent
Yikes!
ReplyDeleteSend them a letter and they can turn it into a joke. What else can you do?!