I’ve been having a difficult time at work as of late, feeling really negative about it and being pretty overwhelmed and emotional and ugh, yeah, it’s basically been rough. Today was no exception, so needless to say I was pretty happy to escape work and get the heck home. I’ve finally gotten a moment to write today’s post, and have been sitting here for awhile thinking about what I wanted to write about. I wanted something light and funny, and it immediately popped into my head; I have to tell the story about how I ended up with a broken blood vessel in my eye on my wedding day.
So let’s go back around 6 months, to the Wednesday before my wedding. Some friends of mine decided to throw me my bachelorette 2 days before our wedding. The plan was to go out for the night while my Dad (who was staying at our house), Matt and some other friends hung out at home and relaxed. It was also the only time my bridesmaid and best friend Leah could make it, and so Leah, along with a lot of my friends who live in Seattle, took me out for a fun night in the city. We began our adventure in the car with your typical bachelorette stuff, inappropriate straws and necklaces, the bride-to-be sash, a tiara with a veil, and all that lovely stuff. I was all for it because what the hell, it would be fun to let loose and have some fun with my friends!
I wasn’t told where we were going to, but we ended up at Peso’s in Queen Anne. I was pretty excited about this because Peso’s has amazing food, good drinks and is an awesome-looking bar. Everyone met up and we ordered drinks and food and chatted it up. I immediately ordered a house margarita, and of course was told I could only drink using my inappropriate straw. By the time our food made it’s way out, I’d already had 2 margaritas but felt totally fine. I knew I was in for a night of drinking, but had told myself (and Matt) that it wouldn’t be anything crazy, just a fun night out. After receiving probably the best and most inappropriate cake (from the one and only Erotic Bakery), we finished up dinner and headed out to our next location.
From where we were, I had a strong feeling we’d end up at one of the best places for bachelorette parties, Chopstix, which is a dueling piano bar, also located in Queen Anne. I’d been there once before for a friend’s birthday, and it was fun to request songs and everyone is encouraged to drink and sing along. So we found a place to sit, noticed there were a few other bachelorettes (and a random couple) there, and the drinks started magically appearing in front of me. It all started out in fun; we sang along to “Sweet Caroline” and laughed and the drinks continued to somehow magically appear in front of me. I don’t even know how many drinks I’d had before I was suddenly on stage dancing with some other bachelorette who was so tanked she made the piano player feel uncomfortable. You see, I don’t do the whole dancing on stage thing… unless I’m drunk. Next thing I remember, I’m just absolutely done for. And I have to pee.
As soon as I stand up, the Jollyranchers, the wedding cake shots, the AMFs, among the other ridiculously-titled drinks I consumed all hit me like a ton of bricks. The room is swirling around me like I’m on a merry-go-around and my friends are holding me up. I’m drunker than I ever wanted to be and I knew I was in bad shape. We somehow made our way out of the bar, and I am so beyond drunk I ask my friends to stop so I can take a breather.
At this point, I’m pretty sure I’m not escaping a visit from my good friend, Puke Yukemeister. My concern, however, is that I am standing in the middle of a street at midnight on a Wednesday night in Seattle. I do not want to get arrested for public intoxication. My saintly friends (no seriously, they took care of me and deserve a medal for being so amazing) Leah and Erin somehow get me to move from the sidewalk near the bar across the street. I tell them I need to sit, and I find a spot to nicely sit down in. Then Puke Yukemeister appears and welp, there goes my dinner and everything else with it. I don’t remember much from this point except that a few guys walked by as I was projectile vomiting into a bush, Leah was so nauseated by the smell that she had to stay about 20 feet away from me, and Erin somehow magically had a roll of paper towels in her hands and was telling me it was okay.
After I was done leaving my presents for that poor little street in Queen Anne, I don’t remember much except getting in the car with Leah (who was of course sober), and telling her we couldn’t tell Matt that I got so drunk I threw up.
I passed out until we got into the driveway, and Leah had an entire plan as to how we were going to avoid telling Matt I threw up. As we pulled into the driveway of my house, and mind you it was raining at this point, I remember seeing the front door open and Matt walking outside with a water bottle. Leah and I got out of the car and as Leah began to tell Matt our awesome fake lie about what happened, I looked at Matt and burst into tears and sobbed, “I.. threw.. uuupp.” I threw my drunken, hot mess self into his arms and I’m pretty sure Leah threw her arms up in the air wondering what the hell the point of our elaborate fake story was.
I continued to stand out in the rain, sobbing to Matt about who knows what, but I’m pretty sure I cried the hardest when I learned that my Dad was still awake and waiting for us to come home.
Oh my God. I’d never once in my life, even in my rebellious teenage years, come home drunk in front of my own Dad. I couldn’t face him, I told Matt I just couldn’t bear to go inside and disappoint my Dad. Somehow Matt and Leah got me inside and I remember immediately booking it upstairs and probably mumbled something to my Dad to the effect that I was sorry and had to go to bed.
As we went to bed that night, I told Matt everything I could remember. He made fun of me for thinking that I could honestly think that he wouldn’t know that I got so drunk I threw up. He told me I smelled like pure alcohol and throw up. He still brings it up today and makes fun of me for it (and I totally let him).
That night I didn’t sleep well and felt absolutely horrible. I woke up Thursday morning (day we were picking up the flowers and also the day of our rehearsal dinner) with the worst hangover of my life. I remember having to face my Dad who, thank God, laughed at me and told me that I had to pay the price. I was pretty happy that he wasn’t disappointed in me (because you never want to disappoint your Dad!). Later on, as I was about to take a shower I looked into the mirror, and my eyes were so swollen I could barely open them. As I went to grab something, I realized my eyes were in terrible pain, like someone has punched my eyeballs. That’s when I noticed it. The horrible, monstrous-looking eyeball.
Yes, this is an actual photo of my eye right after I looked in the mirror that morning.
I knew it would only get worse. I’d had this happen before when I got food poisoning and the blood spread throughout the whites of my eye. I hoped and prayed it would just stay the way it was (as if that wasn’t already terrifying enough), but throughout the day the blood began to spread.
By Friday, the day of our wedding, the entire left side of my left eyeball was blood-red. It was pretty horrifying-looking. Fortunately, if I angled my head and looked to the left, the scary portion of my eyeball was hidden. So I ended up taking the majority of our photos at that angle, and also told the photographer to try not to shoot any photos that would have me looking to the right (or I would punch him in the face – okay not really but you get the point).
While most brides would probably freak out (and some bridezillas would’ve canceled their wedding), I just figured I had to deal with it and at least I could laugh about it. Months and months later, though not one of my proudest moments, it’s something I can laugh at with my friends and Matt, who I totally allow to make fun of me and my stupidity for that night.
Oh, and if you’re reading this and are family who I told a little fib to about what had happened (I think I told some of you that I burst the blood vessel while sneezing, ha), I’m sorry I lied to you. At the time I was pretty embarrassed and didn’t have it in my heart to tell you that I totally did it by having a little too much fun at my bachelorette and throwing up in the middle of a street in Queen Anne.