I'm sitting on the flight home from Chicago. I still have another flight back to Los Angeles after this. (Yes, I know that there are direct connections between Chicago and Los Angeles, but I wanted to fly back with Darin. Phhhbbbbttt.) I opened the file from Saturday and said, Oh wow, not only is that not finished, but there's a hell of a lot that's gone on since. So I finished that up and moved on to this one.
Maybe if I started taking amphetamines I could stay awake all the time and get everything done that I need and want to do.
Sunday
Darin's mom had us scheduled to go to the Degas Exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago at 10:30am Sunday morning. I bowed out Saturday night because I needed some time to write, and one of Carole's friends eagerly snapped up my ticket.
At about 9:30am Sunday morning, Darin sleepily called his mother's room and gave up his ticket. We're uncultured, but well-rested.
We woke up at 11 or so and had brunch in his parents' suite. His parents hosted brunch in their room all weekend, offering up bagels and cakes. I pigged out on the Adler family staple: banana chocolate chip cake. Darin says that he knows how to make this, but does he ever? No. (I won't say this calls into question how much he really loves me, but I will write it.)
I headed back to the room to start working while Darin hung out and talked to his mom for a while. He returned to the room and dressed in his tuxedo to go over to the wedding hall for bridal party pictures. He had to be there at 3 for a 6pm wedding. (For their part, the bride and bridesmaids started getting ready at noon.)
After an afternoon of plotting and beginning to write my scenes and deciding that they were the worst shit ever committed to paper (a common sentiment, I hear), I got dressed for the wedding and met up with other family members to head over at 5:30.
There was already a large crowd of people at the Historical Society (where Scott and Lauren held the wedding) by the time we got there, and lots of them were people that I have met on countless occasions when I go out to Chicago to visit Darin's folks. Most of these people are friends of Darin's parents and are warm, loving, and very considerate, asking after my family and wondering how school is going in Los Angeles.
For my part, I have the hardest time keeping their names straight. I need a cheat sheet I can use before all social occasions in Illinois.
Scott and Lauren had a Jewish wedding, the first Jewish wedding in the entire (extended) family since Darin's parents got married. They aren't particularly religious; they just decided to have a religious service. It was a nice ceremony: the attendants on either side, and the parents, rabbi, and couple under the chuppah, which is a traditional awning used in a Jewish wedding. The rabbi provided an earnest ceremony (and he translated all the Hebrew bits, for which I was grateful) -- he was a far cry, thank goodness, from the last rabbi Darin and I saw at a religious wedding, who appeared to be auditioning as a stand-up comedian. (As you might have guessed, that wedding was in Los Angeles.)
After the ceremony the guests went to have drinks while the bride and groom had their first meal together (so that they could get something to eat, because they'd spend most of their time circulating during the dinner for the guests).
Dinner was a wonderful buffet of three stations, and dessert was great, but who cares? The really great part of the evening was completely spontaneous -- Scott and Lauren belong to an a cappella group called "Lake Shore Jive," and the group, minus the bride and groom, was going to perform a song written for the occasion at the wedding. A half an hour before the group went on, Scott decided to sing a solo to Lauren. So the group sang one song and then Scott sang a song.
Scott singing to Lauren was one of the most romantic things I think I've ever seen or heard anyone do. And it wasn't even planned.
After the wedding Darin and I shared a cab home with his Uncle Bob and Aunt Betty, and the four of us went to the hotel bar for a nightcap before turning in. I really enjoy talking to Bob and Betty -- they're so interesting on so many topics. They own a restaurant in East Lansing, MI, called Beggar's Banquet, and because they have close ties to the University and other academic life that passes through town (such as the Clarion Workshops) they have many great stories and anecdotes.
Monday
Woke up, packed. Avoided going Defcon 5 during the packing process, mostly through sheer force of will. The only time I get completely stressed out and stomp around on a regular, predictable basis is when Darin and I have to pack to go somewhere, particularly when we are returning from a trip. If we were ever to get divorced, I am sure my reason would be stated in the petition as: "He made me pack."
We went up to Darin's parents' suite and had brunch again with the whole extended family -- quite a bit of time was spent coordinating how the multitudes of us were going to get out to the airport with all of our persons, baggage, and wheelchairs. Basically, it came down to Mitch losing the draw and having to drive a group of us out there, when he wasn't even leaving town yet.
Bob came out with us to check in some luggage -- as much as he could on one ticket and a photo ID -- and then wait in the airport for an hour for the others. He sat with Darin and chatted whilst I hunted down the Wild Mocha and found a New York Times, which was less easy than you might expect. There weren't any. The New York Times, let's face it, is the only paper worth reading, even if the national edition is half the paper the New York edition is and they have the worst copyediting in the world because they're the New York Times and they can get away with it.
In the WH Smith where I bought the paper I saw that Carolyn, of Carolyn's Diary, is on the cover of US News and World Report this week, as part of an excerpt from 24 Hours in Cyberspace. I immediately began gnashing my teeth and working on my Oscar acceptance speech that much harder. Of course, I wasn't part of the whole 24 Hours in Cyberspace thing, so I'm not sure what my problem is, but if there's an opportunity to be envious, I'm the one to take it.
(Now the plane is buffeting about in the stormy air over the Rockies. I am trying not to scream. Small children are frightened by the look on my face.)
This evening, when I finally make it to Burbank, I get my ride home from Fernando (thank you, Fernando!), I drop my bags in my apartment, I get my schoolbooks, I head out to my evening class.
After class, I finish my first draft of my writing assignment for tomorrow's class.
Tomorrow morning, I edit and rewrite the assignment, hoping to improve it enough so that my teacher does not petition to have me thrown out of the program.
Tomorrow night, I read that play and do coverage on it for Wednesday, when I go into the Production Company.
And the thing I totally can't believe I did but it's just as well that I did was I left the goddamn Wiseguy tape, the one with the second half of the cliffhanger, in Cupertino. I couldn't watch it until Thursday night at the earliest anyhow.