Hudepohl territory

It's about time I updated this damn thing that i so loftily started at the busiest time in my life.
Well, I took the leap, and landed safely at the pinnacle of my existence thus far.
I'm shakily reading my vows to my now-husband in the photo above. As one of my best friends in the world said in her toast to us; "Here's to getting married on a mountaintop!"
I woke up at 5 AM on the wedding day and spent the next three hours applying makeup, curling irons, and various bedazzlements to what had become a mannequinn's body that I no longer owned. Three layers of face paint, over two hours of hair curling, and one body shaper later, we were well on our way to the ceremony.

It was a mountain drive and my maid of honor nearly shit herself as we whizzed by logging trucks and roving RV's on the two-lane road to reach our destination "in time." We were an hour behind. Apparently, I have more hair to curl than I gave myself credit for.
We finally reached the park entrance and asked for the "bridal discount," to attempt to weasel out of the $20 entrance fee. The masculinely-clad, grayish old park ranger woman gave me one look up and down. Here I was, made up as a bride all the way down to the veil, but wearing a shabby tank top and sweats so that I could change into the dress at the last minute without wrinkling it. Her eyes flicked toward the backseat where my dress was hanging.
She raised one eyebrow. "Are you coming back through this way?" We nodded eagerly. She jerked her head to one side, indicating us to go through, and us passenger peasants rejoiced.
There was some panic on my part. Okay, a lot of panic, but I tried to keep it internal so as not to utterly destroy my bridesmaids' nerves. Are we on the right road? Which way are we headed? North? Northeast? Oh god, we're on the wrong road.
Of course, we never were. I stared at my GPS obsessively, as though it would sprout arms and legs and scream, "FIFTEEN POINT SEVEN MINUTES LEFT, MILADY!" In an manner exacting enough to please a flustered bridezilla.
It didn't, but it did hold my attention until we arrived. Along the way I vaguely remember "Alejandro" playing on the radio, and my bridesmaids squealing with surprise at the sight of Yosemite which pleased me to no end - even the less outdoorsy of my friends could appreciate why I wanted to come here.
After what felt like an eternity, we were in the Glacier Point parking lot. I would later realize this was my calm before the storm. I grabbed a basket full of wedding shit and passed it off to my maid of honor, giving her instructions for each item. She ran off to do my bidding complaint-free, bless her, and we all found the "restroom" we would be changing in.
It was a port-a-potty. Not the kind in a tall blue stall standing alone, but even worse. The kind that is there permanently, and so are its contents. To put it bluntly, I had to lie my clothes onto the floor to stand on to spare my dress, and the entire time it smelled like shit. No less than thirty seconds later, there is angry pounding on the door. "HURRY UP, JACKASS!" I peered my head out, IN A WEDDING DRESS, and told them it would be one moment, and we were just changing. To which they all responded with groans, curses, and general mutiny.

Now, for a brief moment here I seriously considered walking out in my full regalia, sporting three-and-a-half inch heels, and telling them exactly what I thought. "I have been planning this for a year. A YEAR! What have you done? I bet you just decided to mosey on up here today! And guess what? Over half of you have dicks! You're outside! Go piss on a fucking tree and leave me the hell alone, because God knows you don't want to see the wrath that can become a bride on her wedding day! God help you if you so much as utter a rude word to me! I will drive these heels through your fucking eye socket until your bladder is the last thing you're worried about! Would you like that? Huh? Well, would you? Keep talking if you would. Please, really. I would LOVE to show you I'm not kidding."
But instead, I took a deep breath, and asked myself if I wanted to remember myself on my wedding day as a crazed, combative redneck or a graceful woman with an iota of decorum. God damnit. Decorum it is. I don't need to be a viral internet video example of Brides Gone Wild.
But, I must admit, I relished in taking a little longer than was necessary after that. It was worth smelling the festering pool of human waste that much longer. It was worth every second. As we walked out, my bridesmaids looking beautiful with their matching ribbons around their waists and pink rose bouquets, and myself as good as I was ever going to look, I sashayed a bit, and gave them all a warm, happy grin as they all kinda just stared, not sure what to say. Most of them were campers. In hiking boots. Their expressions betrayed their surprise at seeing anything remotely involving a wedding in that kind of place.
Fuck 'em.
I saw my dad walking down the path towards us and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god THAT was over with. He broke into what can only be described as a proud grin and gave me a hug. "You have a lot of people waiting for you!" He declared, ushering me in the right direction. He was right; we were nearly an hour late, and my sweetly patient guests were already sunburning.
As we walked toward my "altar," the reverend intercepted us. "Now, you're going to want to walk around this side. It's more dramatic and you won't have to navigate those steps over there. Your dad is going to walk you in, and when I say the word he's going to literally give your hand to Abraham. After that...." He trailed on with a litany of instructions that whirled around in my brain like a fog that wouldn't settle.
To make it worse, the entire time we were walking toward the viewpoint, and his words were nothing but vapor to me once I saw the view before which we would be tying the knot. I had never seen it in person before. It awed me. Was it even real? I had no time to be sure, because now I was approaching the groomsmen, and they were all hugging, congratulating, and hitting on me. "Last chance! We can get in my car and go right now," said one. Another one fake-kissed me. The third made a similar proposition to run away with me. They all looked incredible. I told them I could eat them up, and was incredibly proud when they didn't turn it into a sexual joke right in front of my dad. They grow up so fast.
Suddenly, everyone was in pairs and my hand-picked piano instrumental of "Here Comes the Sun" was playing. They began their march. My heart began to pound like the port-a-potty door just moments ago. If it hadn't been so windy, I would have been sweating.
I held my dad's hand, took a deep breath, and looked at him. For my entire life I had wondered what this moment would feel like. Calm and serenity was the last thing I expected. But it's what I felt. It felt right. Somehow, I didn't cry, and neither did he. It was simply too happy a moment.
Canon in D was playing now. Shit. I put one foot in front of the other, and my guests watched as I appeared from behind a twenty-foot boulder in front of the view of all of Yosemite valley. Oh god. I just realized that they aren't the only ones watching. I ducked my head, as if I were going to somehow magically hide. This was one hell of a choice for a wedding venue for a pair of introverts.

Up until now I had been too busy to notice the dozens of tourists videotaping and photographing me, as though I were a bear in my natural habitat, or a mule deer munching on vegetation. I had expected this, but had somehow forgotten about it. But when I looked up at my guests sitting on the stone ampitheater steps, my eyes kept moving upward to confirm that my event was a bit of a spectacle. More on this later...
I blinked, and I was in front of the reverend, staring into my fiancee's eyes. I felt like I had consumed no less than eighteen cups of coffee, and I had the shakes to prove it. This wedding business was intense.
To be continued...