May I Pin You?

I'm a one stop shop kind of girl. I appreciate the simplicity of going to Target to buy a new pair of jeans, an emergency tool kit for my car, and a frozen pizza all in one shot.

When I started planning, I thought that websites and magazines were just too overwhelming for me. (Real Simple Weddings is still mocking me from my coffee table, by the way). I thought that my one stop shopping preferences would be perfect for a bridal "expo" - a place where one could meet florists, menswear store owners, caterers, and venue coordinators all in one place. I could not have possibly been more wrong.

We decided early in the process to get married in southern RI. We lived there for eight years between college and grad school/post college life before we moved to Providence a few years ago. It's a location we both love tremendously, plus it is centrally located for our families. When I saw that a bridal show was being held in southern RI, I jumped at the chance to go.

My fiance was working that day, and since we had just started planning, we hadn't asked anyone to be in our bridal party yet either. This meant I was going it alone. I should have known it was going to be a bad idea when I was accosted by looming floral arrangements and a plethora of pamphlets, magazines, and business cards being handed out by the local tourism bureau the moment I walked through the door.

I was told all of the vendors were upstairs and apparently couldn't wait to meet me (!), so I walked up the narrow winding staircase wondering what I had gotten myself into. I was greeted by the president of the tourism bureau who blocked me like a goalie from entering the expo displays.

Sally: "Hello, my name is Sally. Welcome to the county tourism bridal expo!"
Me: "Thanks..."
Sally: "Are you a bride?"
Me: "I'm engaged, yes." Wouldn't I only be a bride on the day I get married?
Sally: "OH!! Congratulations!! May I pin you?"
Me (horrified): "May you what me?"
Sally: "Pin you...we're pinning all the brides with a seashell pin".
Me (backing away slowly): "...I...guess." Apparently, I was rushing a super-duper, double secret sorority.

It was all downhill from there. I was fighting for information in a throng of other future brides, their moms, bridesmaids, and even, future husbands (who looked miserable). I was told I looked overwhelmed by a wedding planner who could "totally" help me out because I "totally" looked like I needed it. If she used the word, "totally", one more time, I was "totally" going to flip out.

I got tangled up in the train of a model bride's hideous gown, I ate luke warm appetizers from local caterers, and mainly was treated like a lepur by all involved because I didn't have a color board or a theme, or, at that time, even a date in mind.

Basically, I learned I was the worst bride on the face of the Earth and I had better get myself into gear if I was going to pull together anything remotely respectable. I did walk away with some business cards, pamphlets, a bruised ego...oh and a seashell pin.