The Story of the (Kidnapped) Bridesmaid Dresses
It occurs to me that I’ve yet to tell you this tale. It should also come with a small bit of hilarious background. My best friend (henceforth known as BF) is getting married in…about two weeks. (Pause. Panic. Regain calmness.) The last time she and I dealt with anything wedding related was when her sister got married a few years back. I lived out of state then (not now, thank java), and I was in town for the wedding. I went with BF to pick up her bridesmaid dress. We took it home, and she tried it on.
Then we discovered that she was STUCK in it. You see, when they altered the dress, they didn’t install the zipper correctly, and it would only go down halfway. We promptly exclaimed, “Oh, SHIT” and called my mother, who was met with a rush of babbling and vowels, as I squeaked out, “STUCK [jibberish] in [more jibberish] bridesmaid dress [incomprehensible nonsense].” My mother, who probably should’ve been sainted at that point, called our old tailor who happens to be a five minute drive from BF’s house and talked her into a) getting BF out of the Attack Dress and b) fixing it in a DAY, because her sister’s wedding was in two days.
Sure, we laugh about it now – her in a sparkly dress, wearing sneakers, half-zipped up – as we drove down the road, repeatedly exclaiming, “I can’t believe this happened.” Only it did. Because it’s us. This stuff occurs on any day that ends in Y, when she and I are together. (This just means that combined we are T-R-O-U-B-L-E – or some completely silly version of the Wonder Twins.)
So, fast forward to now. BF is getting married. I am the Maid of Honor. (Holy crap. I still need to write my toast. ) She and I ordered the dresses for the bridal party on November 17th. Plenty of time, since her wedding’s in June. It seemed ideal. The lady who does the ordering at the store told us (TWICE) that they’d be ready in six weeks. Hooray! Large cheer! Thunderous applause!
Except they weren’t ready in six weeks. In fact, eight weeks went by and NONE of the bridal party had heard a peep from The Bridal Thieves. (Clearly, I’ve cleverly disguised their real name. OR DID I?) I began to get a little bit nervous. The bridesmaids were asking me what was going on. I said I had no idea, but that I’d call.
I called – many times. The first time I called, I was told that Satan (the woman who did the ordering) wasn’t in – but here, call her at her other number. (Her other number? I started to wonder if we had ordered our dresses from a drug dealer. If it was a beeper, I would’ve been certain.) I called, and Satan answered the phone…in Spanish. Now, I speak Spanish, but I wasn’t even going to try. I explained to her who I was and why I was calling. I was just calling to check on the order. I was completely and utterly polite. She asked if she could call me back the next day. I said, sure, and she took down my number (which is also on my order receipt).
She did not call back. I waited the whole day. By then, it was the weekend, so I waited until Monday, and I called back. Satan picked up the phone, and I (again, politely) explained why I was calling. She did not sound pleased that I hadn’t (miraculously) forgotten about this over the weekend. The weekend is not the river on Lethe, of course.
Again, Satan asked, “Oh, let me call you back in a few minutes. I’m with a customer.” Foolishly, I agreed.
She did not call back. I called the next day (all during business hours), but no one picked up the phone. I called the next day, and I finally got someone on the phone. It was not Satan, but one of her minions. Calmly, I explained to Minion my concerns – that the dresses were supposed to ready by a certain date, and that date was long passed. I was concerned about the order. She took my name and number and assured me that Satan would call me back that day.
Impatiently, I waited for Satan to call me back. She did, and it should come as no surprise that was just a little bit evil. She informed that she NEVER would’ve said the dresses would be done in six weeks (never mind that there were FOUR witnesses to that). In a very sweet sounding bout of condescension, she also asked if I would like their business hours, since I am absolutely free to call with any questions – but only when they are open. I told her, just as sweetly, that I had already written the hours down and always called during them.
She then dropped the bomb that the dresses wouldn’t be in for another six weeks. Yes, in plenty of time for the wedding, but not what was promised. The dresses did not come in until April 20th. The kicker? The BRIDE’s dress was ready in the beginning of April, weeks ahead of schedule.
In the end, things worked out quite well. The dresses are being tailored (somewhere else, thank you very much) – but the same woman who removed BF from her Attack Bridesmaid dress, actually.
And in a few weeks, my BF will marry the man that she loves. I will, of course, be there for her every step of the way. Especially now that I know I won’t have to show up at her wedding in my underwear.