We had 2 more nights left in Ireland before we would have to return to the frenetically paced, "gimme gimme," reality that is America. My racing mind allows for about 5 days of enjoyment in a distant land, and then I want to go home. I sat on the patio of the B&B outside Sneem and was on top of the world. My proposal was unexpected. The words seemed to fly out of me. As I marveled at the placid lake bogs and ocean beyond, I gave a thumbs up to the big guy upstairs and headed in to attempt some sleep.
At a B&B there is one queen bed, and I guess Irish guys are short over there, because my feet dangled over the end and I am only 6'0" tall. My elation at the thought of marrying Squeaky, combined with my father's operatic snoring, made for a long night in Sneem. Flip, flop, turn to the cold side of the pillow. Slip to the edge of unconsciousness and........"Oooahrrr!" another bellowing snore from my dad started the whole process over again.
The next morning we prepared for our return to Dublin. We were shooting straight across the center of the wee island back to the point of our original departure. That is an over simplified explanation of our return trip. There are very few straight roads and lines in Ireland, beyond the painstakingly built rock fences and hedge rows that divide the farmers' plots. From coast to coast it is only about 240 miles wide, but don't quote me on that. We drove that whole last day but made some stops in a few of the villages that dotted our course. We stopped at a hotel just outside of Dublin and rested up for the long flight back home. It was Andrea's birthday and Daddy had some cool swag to bring back for her special day.
Arriving back home was both welcoming and saddening. I didn't know when I would return to Eire but I was certain another trip was in order at a future date. Squeaky had a new look in her eye as I hugged her like my fiancee, not just a girlfriend anymore. The kids loved their souvenirs, especially Andrea. I went all out for her and she beamed at the treasures I presented to her from the Isle of Green. Next step - wedding plans.
Since we had both been married before and were on a limited budget we had to plan a wedding that was economical but special. Travel was still cheap and hotels were discounting deeply to attract visitors still hurting from the events of September. Squeaky is the most amazing trip planner when it comes to vacations. This trip would be no exception. We had settled on Las Vegas, not exactly a wedding original, but I knew we would make the trip to Sin City exciting and memorable.
We booked our flight and hotel at the Stratosphere at the end of the Vegas strip. It was brand new and central to the sites we wanted to see on our honeymoon. We went dress shopping for her and a new suit for me. The colors were complimentary and the shopping day long. I was a good soldier and kept my whining internalized as I knew every detail was important to her. We picked out our first wedding bands from Sam's Club and we both adored them. Holding our hands out in front of each other we gushed at how absolutely brilliant each band looked on the others hand.
We booked a chapel, ordered flowers, prearranged a photographer and videographer. All of this could be done with a point and a click on the computer. One stop wedding shopping, brilliant! We decided that Van Morrison's "Have I Told You Lately," would be OUR song and I was thrilled. I am a huge Van Morrison fan. He is the Belfast Cowboy and Bobby Dylan of Ireland, as far as I'm concerned. Squeaky had every detail covered. We packed and were set to leave for our dream trip and begin our life officially as Mr. and Mrs. Connolly.
As we sat in the airport waiting for our flight we met a lovely choir group on their way to Vegas for a performance. They serenaded us with their version of The Dixie Cups, "Going To The Chapel," a wedding classic. We gave them the ceremony details and they promised to make it a part of their day. They continued to sing in full spirit and the terminal visitors all stared our way. It was magical. The flight was smooth and we landed at 10:00 pm Vegas time.
It was May 24, 2002. We deplaned and shuttled to our honeymoon nest to drop off our bags. Then we hopped a cab for the Clark County courthouse for a wedding certificate. We giggled and cooed as we filled out the paper, exhausted and giddy, with anticipation. It was now 1:00 am. In those days the courthouse stayed open all night to service those needing nuptial documentation. The certificate was the last item needed for our grand ceremony set for 2:00 pm that same day. We would head back to the hotel, get some rest abd then don our wedding duds and fly to the chapel. It was so simple until we walked out of the courthouse.
As we waited to hail a cab clutching our marital contract, a man approached us. He was disheveled but not threatening. He introduced himself and said he was from the House of Hope chapel just around the corner. All wedding donations went to shelter the homeless, treat the addicted and protect women in abusive relationships. I was not drinking but was smoking pot. The stranger seemed to us to be a messenger from God. We thought about the new dress and suit, the money spent for the chapel that afternoon and came to the same conclusion. Let's do this!
Our less fortunate guide led us to a store front chapel with a "House of Hope" sign hanging above the door. We were both worn out and felt dirty from the flight and endless running around. A tiny Filipino man came from behind a wall and we were awe struck. He had the most amazing blue eyes either of us had ever seen. It was like he could see right into your soul and his gentle voice was hypnotic in its' delivery. He explained the church's mission and we needed no more convincing.
We picked out a version of the "Wedding March" and Squeaky grabbed a tattered bouquet from a pile on a shelf in the corner. I was dressed in jean shorts and a tattered Walter Payton jersey, she in a jean skirt and a plain blouse. We were dressed for traveling, not marrying. We had each other. Fashion and glamour were tossed out the window with all the money we spent on the formal service set for later that day.
The little man with the radiant eyes cued a helper and we began down the aisle. We gazed at each other adoringly and laughed at our spontaneous decision. We stopped at the alter and the preacher began to read. We repeated our vows and was prayed over by the little man of God. We cried the whole time as we stood there. We reviewed our past in each others stares and clung tightly to each others hands in anticipation of a happy future. I can honestly say that I remember very little of what was said but I will never forget the grace of our tiny chaplain and the smile on my new wife's face.
By the time the ceremony was finished and we made it back to our hotel it was 4:00am. We were down for the count physically, emotionally and spiritually. We held hands and admired our Sam's Club rings. Starving, we stopped into a 50's style diner and ate cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes for our wedding feast. The burgers were our prime rib. The fries were our double baked potatoes. The milkshakes were our baked Alaska. Our fancy clothes would remain unpacked. Our prepaid monies were lost. It was perfect and really quite special. I love taking the road less traveled, especially with my best friend Squeaky.
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