Big Sur-Perfect Wedding Spot. Subtitle: But Beware of The Klutzes at the Airport

Can I just say that the wedding we attended in California was one of the most gorgeous settings for a wedding I’ve ever seen?

Well, plus, the bride and groom were pretty darn gorgeous themselves!

Ryan and Erin – you done good!

Credit: Taylor Brooke Photography

Sometimes Mother Nature outdoes herself and on that Thursday, She was in peak form. The sun was shining brightly, there was not a cloud in the sky, there was just a hint of a breeze coming off of the ocean and everything was just, well, perfect.

Including Ryan and Erin’s dogs who were guests of honor. I didn’t hear a peep out of them throughout the entire ceremony.

Credit: Taylor Brooke Photography

All I could think was if Maggie Minx had been there she would have been barking incessantly at whatever – birds, butterflies, someone’s tie fluttering in the wind. Not only that, but if she had had any opportunity whatsoever, she would have bolted and there would have been total chaos as we chased her up and down cliffs.

Yeah, those are the sorts of thoughts that flit through my brain sometimes.

Scary, isn’t it?!

Anyway, I heaved a sigh of relief that Maggie was safely at home and then refocused on the ceremony.

It was a special day and the setting for the reception was also gorgeous and we had so much fun from beginning to end.

I thought about my cousin Bill, father of the groom, who passed away just about a year ago. It made me sad because Bill was always at all the family gatherings and I missed him – I missed his smiling face, his happy demeanor, his joie de vivre. I thought about how proud he would have been of all his kids who were there to support their brother as he married the love of his life.

And then, when I heard that all the siblings were traveling to Ireland next month to support their youngest brother, Shawn as he marries his fiancée, Tara, it just filled my heart and made me smile.

How was I so lucky to become a part of this family? I thought.

But enough of the mushy stuff. Back to the reception. 

Can I just give you a word of advice? If you’re ever – and I mean EVER – attending an outdoor wedding and reception in Monterey, be prepared. A parka is not out of the question. It. Was. Cold. Particularly when the sun set.

I had had the perfect outfit for an outdoor wedding and reception that included a mohair sweater, boots and a sparkly skirt – but I changed my mind at the last minute when I was packing and went with something lighter and thinner.

Big mistake.  But I thought the reception was indoors and a mohair sweater just wouldn’t cut it. I’d have had hot flashes and makeup would have melted and hair would have drooped and I’d have had so much sweat pouring down my face people would have thought I was having a serious medical issue that required EMT intervention.

Fortunately, we all brought extra jackets and coats and, one by one, we left to fetch them from our cars and hotel rooms. I even saw a couple blankets that had been dragged off beds from the hotel keeping a guest or two warm. Fleece may not have been the most stylish of wedding wear, but we didn’t much care by that point!

I felt so fortunate to have the chance to talk to my cousins during this week as we had several days to hang out together. Vince was the hero as he took hundreds of frame-able photos and he was able to share them with family.

We spent a few hours in Monterey at Cannery Row and did a little shopping, a little eating, a little people-watching.  We did not, alas, visit the Monterey Aquarium. Time got short and the excursion didn’t make the cut. “Next time,” we vowed. “Next time.”

Or maybe not. It’s an expensive undertaking just to visit a few fish!

And the house that we rented right on the ocean was simply perfect. I don’t know about you, but the ocean just calls to me. We left the windows at night opened a crack so we could hear the waves crash upon the shore, which gently lulled us to sleep. It was heavenly!

But then, finally, it was time to leave. We loaded up our little white Hyundai Accent, said our goodbyes, and then headed north to San Francisco.

Vince had never been and I had been there only once, so we were newbies to the area and figured we’d only have time to do a little bit of the touristy thing. So we headed to Ghirardelli Square. Bought some chocolate (naturally), and then had lunch at a nearby café where we could sip a glass of wine and watch the sailboats from the large windows overlooking the bay.

After that, we walked to the pier and then Vince had some chowder (or “chow-dah” as my mother would say) in a sourdough bread bowl.

We headed to the airport and turned in the car. When I was handed the receipt, I could see that a couple hundred dollars had been discounted – presumably for our problems with the convertible. However, I noted that it was merely the difference in price between a standard convertible (that I originally ordered) and the luxury convertible (that we were bumped to).

Fortunately, I had made lengthy notes during our ordeal with the tires and broken rim on the BMW and I was all ready to write a letter to Alamo.

But first we had to get home. I like to write…but I figured this letter would cause some serious writer’s cramp!

Vince and I wheeled our luggage on and off trams and finally hit the down escalator to take us to the Delta terminal where we were checking our bags.

He was in front of me with two suitcases and I was behind with a carry-on, my purse and another bag. As we reached the bottom of the escalator and Vince attempted to push the bags off the escalator ahead of him, he lost his balance and fell backwards.

Right on top of me. And I went down like a stack of dominoes. Bags went flying.

But before I knew what was happening, I was being helped up by some kind young man with big muscles who had been standing near the bottom of the escalator.

A second later, I heard a terrific “Riiippp!” and realized my inner jacket (I was wearing two jackets as it was chilly in San Francisco) had gotten stuck and when I turned around, I could see a chunk of the brightly colored jacket in the teeth of the escalator.

Thank goodness this guy had the wherewithal to set me free or who knows what could have happened. I, for one, know I would not have been focused enough to remove my heavier outer jacket in order to take off the jacket that was stuck.

I was also grateful no one else was on the escalator behind us at that particular moment. Talk about falling down like dominoes!

A representative from the airport was there on the spot to ask me if I was okay and if I needed any assistance, but I was so shaken up I told her I was fine. And then I went in search of Vince who had started to walk away once he knew I was okay – either out of embarrassment or he was simply focused on getting us to the gate on time.

Later on, we were somewhat sore from our fall and we both sported a few bruises. I had a pretty spectacular one on my backside but, fortunately for you, I didn’t take any photos of it. (You’re welcome!). But we were none the worse for wear.

Well, except for my jacket. It was the first and last time I wore that jacket. There ain’t no fixin’ that thing!

Our flight back to Columbus was (thankfully) uneventful and we were so glad to be home when we finally touched down in Columbus.

But lesson learned. Today’s PSA: If you have more than two bags – Take the elevator!

Oh, and PS, I did write my letter to Alamo. And to their credit, they apologized profusely for the problems we experienced with the rental car and completely refunded our card. So - even though it was not the vacation we dreamed of back while I was plotting and planning it - I have to thank them for their attentive and immediate response.