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What a Frink Show

Location: Dallas, TX

Last night I returned home from my trip to Dallas for my cousin Robin's wedding; I am exhausted. 

Flying out on Friday was already a minor adventure as the American Airlines flight was packed to the brim. I hate flying American. I had already compromised my normal aisle seat for a window in order to be closer to the front of the plane - i go nuts at the end of the flight waiting for all the non-travelers to gather their crap to disembark. Having settled myself in the window, the last two people show up at my row to claim the middle seat... only there are two of them and they're carrying a 15-month old. They looked hopefully at the frequent flyer in the aisle seat and myself and asked if one of us would switch so they could sit together. Where is the seat? Oh, yeah, that would be another middle seat the row ahead of us. Seriously? Aargh. I don't want to be rude, but seriously? When the aisle seat turned out to be a gentleman and only slightly grudgingly agreed to move, I was at first overwhelmed with gratitude... until it dawned on me he was clearly more on top of his game, because here comes the couple without a seat for their baby blocking me in! Who flies stand by with a 15-month old with no seat? And nothing to amuse him? As it turned out, it wasn't the worst flight I've had because he managed to sleep most of the way, though I almost peed myself. It just seemed too risky to wake him up to get out. I distracted myself from the claustrophobia by taking pics of the beautiful day outside the window. 

When I arrived at DFW, my brother and sister-in-law were waiting for me in the bar... which is how Frinks kick off the weekend. I joined them in a glass of wine before we headed out to my Aunt and Uncle's for a BBQ. Around 9:30 it was time to meet up with the rest of the family at the next installment of the evening, the post-rehearsal-dinner drinks at an Irish pub. Despite almost getting horrendously lost on the many freeways of Dallas, we managed to eventually track down the correct Irish Pub (luckily my sister-in-law was sacrificing herself to be designated driver)... which we closed down at 1am.

It was such a treat to have all of the cousins together at the same time. Three male and four female cousins, ranging in age from almost 40 to 21, and all really fun. Even though we had seen each other in August at my other cousin Tracy's wedding in Galveston, it felt like it had been forever, and since then my youngest cousin Andrew had turned legal, a crucial milestone. All the grand children are now of age. Lookout world.

During our time at the pub, my cousin Tracy's new Belgian husband Peter made the mistake of throwing down the gauntlet to myself and my brother, telling us how disappointed his family was that the Frinks made such a poor showing at his wedding in August. Gee, because we left the party at 2am. Famous last words.

After we returned to the W at almost 2am, when all their bars had closed up, we scavenged bottles of wine from several mini bars and stayed up until 5am. At least I went to bed at 5am. Tracy and Peter, having just flown in from Australia that day, stayed in my brother's suite until at least 6am. I should know better than to drink with people that jetlagged! But it was just such a treat to get to hang out with my cousin who now lives in Perth, and to get to know her new husband, that I couldn't seem to tear myself away. 

When I awoke at 12:30 on Saturday, exceedingly thankful that the wedding wasn't until the evening, I realized just what a mistake it had been to go toe to toe with the Belgian on Australia time. Serious miscalculation. I again raided the mini-bar, and wonder of wonders, found they stocked Gatorade. Now that's my definition of a good hotel. I lay on my bed moaning, watching bad TV, until it was time to get ready. My brother smartly went to Bliss and let them take care of him. As he put it, he was unable to take care of himself, and wisely recognized that his wife was unlikely to step in, so he promptly paid the spa staff to do it for him. 

Arriving at the church five minutes before the ceremony was to start, we ran into Tracy and Peter... who promptly disappeared into the bathroom for the first part of the wedding. There is some justice in the world. 

The wedding was phenomenal. Ceremony was mercifully brief for a Catholic wedding, and the priest was droll and witty, always a bonus. Once we found the reception in downtown Dallas, at the former Planet Hollywood, the party got started. The Frinks dominated the dance floor... up until they played the Texas A&M fight song, at which point all hell broke loose, and we yankees hid under a table while the Aggies went to town, swaying and hollering. My cousin was utterly radiant in her beautiful gown. My favorite pics are her dancing with her dad, and then being a good sport when they pulled off her garter.

Her new husband Matt had apparently been well coached to not shove cake in her face. This was a big change from my wedding when my husband was successfully goaded by my brother's taunt "you don't have a ball in your sack if you don't shove that in her face." Lucky for Robin, we restrained my brother this time.

When they kicked us out at 1am (sensing a theme?), it was the Frinks who were there at the end - even my Grammie! - to pick up all the odds and ends that were leftover. Including a pair of shoes. Who leaves a wedding barefoot? My one uncle went around like prince charming looking for his Cinderalla, and unable to find her, took the shoes back to the hotel with them for safekeeping.... right before Cinderella turned out to be the mother of the groom. Oops. 

Upon returning to the W, we yet again found ourselves having just missed last call at the bars. My brother and his wife wisely used this excuse to turn in, but somehow I ended up again raiding the mini bar, this time with my youngest cousins. We drank our vodka and bourbon up on the 16th floor pool deck until 4am. Sadly, I had promised to meet my parents and others at 10am for breakfast, which turned out to be a very early wake up call.

I think I barely made it into my seat on the airplane before I passed out. I probably would have fallen asleep in the terminal except it turned out the real-life version of Glee was on my flight. They had just won gold in show choir at the national competition in New Orleans, and they were sharing, or perhaps showing off, their talents. Either way it was actually kind of cool. I was just waiting for the jazz hands to break out. 

All in all, it was an amazingly fun weekend... and a bit of a cautionary tale. It's apparently rather dangerous to actually like your family. 


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Reader Comments (1)

Your side of the family sure parties harder than we do! I'm usually in bed by 9 pm... :)

May 4, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterDrew Frink

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