The ‘afterwards’ part of the wedding weekend story isn’t quite as touching and sweet.  It’s more smelly and sleepy.  This is what happened.

After the clean-up phase of the evening, after Laurel and I had been at Tail Skid Meadows for about twelve hours, we decided it was time to leave.  We were sleepy.  We were tired.  We wanted beds and to rest our feet.  We turned down an invitation to go to Jake’s house (I have no idea who Jake was – a friend of a friend who had a house who was out of town) where there would be much drinking and much staying up late and an uncertainty about the availability of beds and bedding.

Let us find ourselves a motel, we said, and let us rest.  So into the car and onto the 5 and south we headed.

And headed.

And headed.

Turns out?  You shouldn’t try to find a motel room on a Saturday night on I-5.  Just, don’t.  Because someone else already took them all.  ALL.

Except one.  I’m getting there.

There was the vaguely sketchy motel where the proprietor was yelling, “GET OUT! Just GET OUT!” at another potential customer.

There was the motel with a sign that read, “Please ring bell for assistance.  Do not ring too many times or you will wake up the baby.”  When Laurel rang the bell (just once) a middle eastern man appeared, stuck his head out of a tiny window, and said, “I have one room.  But it is stinky.”

We kept driving.  South.  And further south.  We zipped through Seattle at 1 am, thinking that at least we weren’t hitting any traffic this way (unlike the other direction, when traffic added an extra two hours to our trip).

We were nearly to Olympia, familiar stomping grounds, when the light of mercy shone upon us and we took possession, at 2:30 in the am, of a delicious king sized bed.  And in the morning we hit Otto’s Bagels and enjoyed a delightfully short two hour drive back to Portland.

The end.

This story, of course, doesn’t include Laurel’s difficulties in getting to Portland in the first place.  The seven hour delay her train enjoyed due to a suicide on the tracks.  Another seven or so hours added onto the train trip from general slowness.  You know, things like that.

I’m a little picture crazy at the moment, furiously organizing things on flickr and picking out things to order prints from and playing various wedding picture slideshows that people are emailing me and making Kate cry over them.  Stuff like that.  Not the stuff that I really should be doing.