K and I woke up early Monday morning so we could get our things together and be on the road between 8:30 and 9. When we'd switched to our suite on Saturday, K had accidentally left our unity sand from the ceremony and the leftover cake we'd taken for ourselves in his dad and brother's room. I asked him on Saturday and on Sunday if we'd need to go get them, but since his dad and brother were driving back with us, we just left them there, knowing we could get them on Monday when we all loaded up K's truck.
K and I were down at his SUV by 8:30 loading up our things. Shortly after, his brother came out to load his things. I asked him if they had our unity sand. His brother said he did, and that he had put Saran wrap and a rubber band, and another layer of plastic wrap over the top so the sand wouldn't come out. I wondered why he would need all that protection over the top of the container if it wasn't turned
sideways -- which, if it
was turned sideways, I was going to be upset. The whole point of the unity sand is that it stays the way you poured it. Turning it sideways would ruin it.
I asked K's brother a question about it again so I could be sure it was all intact. "Well," he said, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep the container it was in or not."
"Yes!" I said, blinking in disbelief. "Yes, we wanted to keep it!"
K's brother explained that he poured the sand out into a cup, had covered it with plastic and a rubber band, and then put another layer of plastic over it. The container should be wrapped up in his bag somewhere. He left to go back to his room to make sure K's dad had gotten the container. As soon as he vanished inside the hotel, I turned to K, who was too busy loading
everyone's luggage to hear what his brother had just told me.
"They poured out our unity sand!" I told him. He looked upset and slightly confused, so I explained what his brother had just told me. I was crying because the sand was a
memento I'd hoped to keep forever. I know it would be hard to keep it exactly as it was, but I figured it would at least last a good few years before it got messed up.
K tried to make me feel better by telling me we weren't any less married, that the sand wasn't that big of a deal, but I knew he was upset by it too.
K's brother and dad headed out soon after, and we finished loading and got on the road just before 9. While K was checking out of the hotel, his dad spilled coffee in the backseat of K's truck. Then, after we were about a half a mile from the hotel, we thought we were going to have to turn around because K's dad couldn't find his glasses. He thought he'd left them on top of the ice machine at the hotel. Lucky for him and for K, he found the glasses just before K turned the truck around.
Needless to say, the day was off to a rough start, but at least K's dad and brother weren't doing their "Are we there yet?"
routine.
The drive went pretty quickly, but it was a long day in the car. K's brother was sick, so he was coughing constantly in the back seat. He kept bringing up that it would probably be a couple weeks before he felt completely better. At one point, he said, "I can't wait until I feel better in about two weeks." K's response: "I can't wait until I'm sick in about two weeks." (And go figure, I woke up this morning -- a week later -- with a sore throat. Thanks, brother-in-law!)
In the afternoon, I got a craving for a piece of our wedding cake. I couldn't wait until we got to K's so I could enjoy another piece of it. It was a white sheet cake, but it had yummy
buttercream icing. I could almost taste it as I remembered how delicious it was on Saturday. I asked K if we had it, since it had been in his dad and brother's room. K asked his dad if they'd brought our cake.
"What do you mean?" K's dad asked.
K explained to him that he had left our cake in their room on Saturday. "Oh, we thought that was ours," his dad said. They had eaten a piece Sunday night, and they gave the rest to the cleaning lady because they didn't want it to go bad.
"Go bad?" I asked. "They just made it on Saturday!"
"Well where would you have put it?" K's brother asked.
"In my stomach!" I said. We were in a big Chevy Tahoe, and there would have been plenty of room for a to-go box with leftover cake. Especially if it had buttercream icing.
"Well, we gave it to the cleaning lady," his dad said again. "She was very grateful: 'Oh, thank you!'"
I turned toward the back seat, where K's dad and brother were both sitting. "Just for future reference, I keep everything."
K interrupted me, telling me it was his fault.
"No, that's fine," I said. "But just for future reference, I keep everything, exactly as it is, and I don't change it." I hoped the keeping and not changing it would prevent any recurrences of the unity sand or cake fiascoes, although I promised myself we'd never again leave anything we wanted to keep in the care of K's father or brother.
We got to K's apartment right at 5 p.m. I stayed there for just under an hour, and I was on the road to Dallas by 6. I got home between 11 and 11:30 p.m., and I talked to K on the phone as I unpacked. He had been frustrated by his dad and brother also, and he swore he'd never again take a trip that long with them -- especially in one vehicle. He brought up a good point as we talked: His dad and brother had done an excellent job of making us deflect our frustrations toward them instead of at each other.
In just 48 hours of marriage, we had already survived a tropical depression, his 45-year-old (old enough to know better) brother messing up one of our wedding mementos, his dad giving away our wedding cake to some lady who didn't even speak English, and eight hours in the car with one man who was constantly sneezing and another who was constantly sucking his teeth. I'm pretty sure we can make it through anything now.
