I was tired, but felt okay. I knew I wasn't ready to talk about our new found situation with everyone. I was still having trouble believing it was true. The last thing I wanted was to tell someone, word gets out, and it turns out the tests I took were expired or malfunctioning or something. Anyway Mark and I decided to keep this a secret for now. Which made the wedding interesting.
I survived the rehearsal dinner by drinking soda waters (with lime) and I think I pulled it off. My wine glass was filled by the server so I kept sneaking it over to my sister, in exchange for her near empty glass. (Sorry J, now you know why you were so hungover the next day.) All in all I was proud of myself until all the cousins wanted to go checkout the nightlife in Des Moines. I really was super tired, so I just said "I'm too tired and going to bed." Aside from the obligatory accusations like "you're lame" and "you should be ashamed to call yourself a Spartan" everyone let me go in peace. Which was SO the right choice considering sister rolled into our room well past 3am smelling of pizza and tequilla. And yes at this point I could already smell EVERYTHING.
The wedding itself was an absolute blast... I continued on my Soda-with-lime ruse and rather enjoyed knowing I could still tear it up on the dance floor sans alcohol. (I'm not claiming to be good, mind you...but I did dance like a maniac along with all the drunkards.) This was probably my favorite part of the weekend...our family tends to have a good time when a dance floor in involved.
Then came the last call, and as I knew it would, conversation turned to "where are we headed tonight?" Apparently DSM has quite the social scene, as my sister/cousins discovered the evening prior. I tried the "I'm too tired" card again, but no one was having it. Some one even caught my feeble attempts on camera:
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Me: But I'm so sleepy. Cousin & Sister: Whatever put your big girl pants on we're going drinking. |
So we head out and everyone keeps talking about going to the bar with the boot. No.."DAS BOOT'. Apparently it's a giant boot of beer that we all pass around until it is drank. And there are veery strict rules about the boot. Here they are:
So needless to say my Soda-water-lime plan goes out the window. I did manage to fake drink from the boot. But how? you must be wondering... with a mixture of fake sips and saying I wasn't feeling well. No one called me out too badly on the supposed tiny sips I was taking. Here's me sad that I'm being forced to drink das boot:
This went on for not 1, but 2 giant boots. Eeevery time it got to me, I actied like it was a huge effort to lift, let the beer touch my lips for a good 3-4 seconds, then passed it on. I'm pretty sure it worked.
I really did have a great time, and while normally I would have been equally excited about DAS BOOT as my awesome family, I didn't really feel like I missed out on anything. I felt great the next morning (even got a run in), I still had a blast with everyone that night, and I remembered all the details...giving me the unique position to make fun of everyone else.
Lastly, a side note: this is the town where my father spent a good portion of his childhood. I got to hear fun stories about him and his brothers/sisters and cousins wreaking havoc on the neighborhood. My dad passed away when I was a young girl... He had Leukemia. So, it was cool to be there and contemplate that he'd be a grandfather soon. Emotional, but good. I'm glad I had time to reflect on that, and it made me wish hubs was there with me.
All in all the weekend was a success. And that is how you fake drink... from a boot.
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