A Bloody Good Time

Anytime I see coverage of my Friday morning, the headlines read
'NEW YORK CITY CATCHES ROYAL WEDDING FEVER
AND DUMBO IS THE EPICENTER OF THE PLAGUE'

If the hotbed of the scourge included tea and crumpets -
then yes, that's what happened.

Yesterday I jumped from bed prior to the crack of dawn and started my Wedding Day March. Twenty minutes later I arrived down under the Manhattan Bridge to hold vigil with my most favorite friends (I'm qualifying most as people up at 4:30 am for another harebrained adventure). We sported smiles and our best hats to bid a proper goodbye to Prince Wills and the teenage hopes and dreams we've wrapped him up in since he looked like this:
*SIGH*

Let it be known throughout the land, that on the beautiful Friday morning I came to say 'goodbye' my smile was mostly happy and only a sliver of wistful.

I like this photo for the sun that bleaches my face Britt.

There is no room for the remnant of a Bahamian tan upon my countenance this day. I'd be royally ashamed, as Victoria Beckham should be ashamed.

Luckily, yesterday's event was the perfect venue for The Duchess' royal wave. Years of being rolled out at events such as this has allowed her to truly perfect her light bulb twisting technique.

We sit quite silent as the future Duchess of Cornwall cascades down the aisle. She reaches the Abbey's English garden culdesac. Side note: was I the only one running the Kink's Dead End Street over in my mind during this part? We collectively lean forward, sigh and then raise our arms, free to whoop and holler in the perfect acoustic bell of the Manhattan Bridge's underbelly, far away from the solemn air of Westminster Abbey.

This was one of the half-dozen cheering points that we partook of liberally with our crowd of classy new friends. I had a particular enjoyable conversation with a foil crown adorned, fur coat wearing, Great Dane toting blonde over the ratio of Valium to lace one should consume on the morn of your World Wide televised nuptials.

Of course then it was time to wave the Union Jack.

At this point we're thisclose to forming a receiving line with all our new friends.

It's true what they say, nothing brings people together like a wedding!

Now I'm off to The Duchess' Royal Salon to have my locks lopped off. My tresses are tres' excited. The cut is in honor of the weekend's second wedding which I shall attend on the morrow. I feel a tad guilty about not tending to my hair prior to Wills' and Kate's nuptials. At the same time I am also feeling slightly guilty for the blog post that I probably will not blog and the whooping that I will not most likely not whoop over tomorrow's union. Although, I am sure that it will also, in the words of the queen, be "quite lovely, after all".