I'm in my car, which is going about 70mph. It's 2:05 A.M. and we're near Emporia, VA. It's very foggy and the highbeams are having trouble cutting through. I'm excited because I will be able to see Lindsey's grandmother in the morning. She is lovingly referred to by her family as Gammy. I always look forward to seeing her because she has Tootsie Pops and criss-cross huts.
There is no one else on the road. Everything is black and without us the night would remain a bleak, wet void. But nope, we are piercing through, making our way to loved ones. We are going to fish, eat, and laugh about stupid things that only we remember or care about.
As I look above this slender Dell flatscreen at the white slashes perforating the road, I'm reminded of late night journeys between my house and Virginia. I remember shockingly cold nights in Lynchburg—standing outside of a dormroom at midnight, watching my smoky breath as I wait for Lindsey to come out and kiss me goodbye.
I'm also reminded of a trip we took to Lindsey's parent's in Yorktown. It was a few days after Christmas of 2004. We had met snow by this point. With our musical resources exhausted, we decided to memorize Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire." An hour of that song nearly drove me nuts, but now I know every word. Guess which is my favorite line?
Tomorrow I'm going fishing with my new mother-in-law. Not that I have an old one. Anyway, we're going fishing on the Yorktown Pier where she caught an 18-inch manta ray this past week. After twenty-four years of brim, bass, and catfish, it would be nice to catch such a foreign creature.
We are at an Exxon now. "Surf City" by the Beach Boys is playing over the sound system. It's still a strange thing for me to visit such a modernized gas station. The one I normally use just recently updated to computerized pumps. Part of me feels left out because I seem to be just now catching up with the world. I haven't had a check card until a few months ago. It's great to be able to simply stick that sucker in and go. The Beatles are now singing. This is a great gas station.
This laptop is like a shining beacon in the night here. Three bugs are exploring the screen.
Technology is wonderful. It's 2:43 A.M. I'm in a car going 75mph, typing up my thoughts, and listening to "Fat Bottomed Girls" by Queen. Since I was little I've hated reading in the car—a headache has never failed to accompany car reading. I feel like vomiting, but I can't stop.
comments (4)Lindsey Proctor became Lindsey Hathcock on May 20, 2006. I'm still Brian Hathcock, unfortunately.
The wedding went by very quickly. I was nervous for none of it, which was surprising. I woke up that morning, got ready, and right away it seemed I was standing beside the minister watching my bride travel the isle. I repeated some things, lit a candle or something, and we were done. The reception had an even shorter lifespan, it seemed. We were introduced after a string of bridesmaids and groomsmen, ate, cake, done. The one constant was a Canon 20D in my face, which I quickly tired of. The photographer took so many pictures, that picture-taking is the main memory of the event. When I look at the pictures next week, all I'll be able to say for each is, "Hey, I remember posing for that picture."
OK, it wasn't that bad. It was a "very beautiful wedding," according to a buttload of women. It tasted good, I know that. There were shrimp, chocolate strawberries, and other "food" like that, but I had green beans and a pound of icing.
I think people had a good time. One thing I was disappointed about was the music. I spent at least a solid 20 hours working on gathering and arranging music for the reception. But a lot of it wasn't heard because the time ran short. I was aiming high, I guess, in assembling four hours of music. I danced, though, which I have never done in public. It was a big hit, I think. You might see a picture later on, but there is no video, thankfully.
As we exited the church, Lindsey and I grabbed handfuls of birdseed bundles to hurl at those assembled outside ready to pelt us. It was a spontaneous thing, and I think I hit someone in the face, which I didn't mind after the trouble I went to later in cleaning my car.
We left for Nags Head through a crowd of cheering people. Lindsey said the experience of driving away was surreal, and I guess I felt it a little, but for me it was pure excitement, relief, happiness.
Being completely alone for eight days of our honeymoon was wonderful. The house was great—far too large, but great. We spent lots of time on the beach, lounging in the house, and exploring the area.
We also saw some wonderful sunsets.
And sunrises.
After Nags Head we weren't ready to leave the ocean, so we made the long journey down to Myrtle Beach, SC. We stayed there another two days, hitting the hotspots we usually visit on our yearly summer trips there.
We reluctantly made our way home, dreading thank-you cards and work, but that dread was easily gulfed by our fun and anticipation. We stopped in Dillon, I bought a couple bags of fireworks, and we found our way to Albemarle in time to see X-Men 3 with Justin.
It's taken me a while to get this entry on the site because of married life business. There may be more pictures in a couple weeks, but I won't be writing much more about our wedding day. Friends and family, you can always read the wedding blog Lindsey and I kept from October 2005 until now, detailing some things about the wedding. There are a few more pictures here and those previous.
Life is fun right now. We have a lot of work ahead of us, but things will be great now that we don't have to worry about tuxedos or Jerry Falwell.
