14 years ago, on August 13th, my sister, brother-in-law and I were very late for a wedding…
Due to my travel over the years, I have had to miss a lot of weddings. This time, the gods were smiling and the stars were aligned – the wedding was in Toronto and the date coincided with the week I would be there for the Canadian Open. How lucky was that??
I was visiting my sister and BIL in Ottawa the week before and I would drive in with them. The plan was for us all to check into my hotel, shower and change and, fresh as daisies, take a cab to the wedding. On paper, the plan was foolproof.
In reality, there was a miscommunication with a 3rd party and we left Ottawa hours later than intended. We were further delayed when we became lost en route to my hotel and tempers started to flare. As we hurriedly changed into our finery we discussed if we were just too late and whether we should be going at all.
Regardless of the time, the bride was a dear friend. (The groom was a pretty cool guy, too!) We sucked up our pride, called a cab, and arrived during the speeches. Rather than disturb the reception, we headed straight to the bar.
There we were greeted by a very well dressed and genial fellow who took our coats and drink orders. My BIL was impressed, but more than a little confused, by the overt friendliness of this maitre d’. Why was he being so attentive to us? How did he know our names? Wait… why was he joining us at the table?
This man was actually a fellow guest at the wedding, who had seen us arrive in a tardy jumble and slipped out of the reception to welcome us. He was a high school classmate of my sister’s who I knew through association. He was also the wonderful man who kept fetching me drinks from the open bar.
Later in the evening, after a few drinks and many dances (or was that a few dances and many drinks?) there was a lovely kiss goodnight and plans were made for us to see each other again before I left the city. After the bride and groom, we were the couple of the evening. They went home together, we did not.
However, on his way home that night on the subway (he lived in Toronto) a mutual friend teased him and asked, “Are you going to marry Stephanie?”
He answered, “Maybe.”
You see, the man my BIL thought was the maitre d’, is now The Husband.
Hey Honey, happy 14th anniversary of someone else’s wedding! I’m sure glad I went!
Have you made any “small” choices that turned out to be pivotal moments in you life?