Missy’s Law

 

I believe everyone is familiar with Murphy’s Law. Some variations are as follows:

 

“If anything can go wrong, it will.”

“If there’s more than one possible outcome of a job or task, and one of those outcomes will result in disaster or an undesirable consequence, then somebody will do it that way”

“Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong,”

“Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way.”

“Anything that has a probability of happening greater than 0 can and will happen. No exceptions.”

 

Well, Missy’s Law is “If anything can go wrong, it’ll happen to Missy or at least go wrong when she’s around.”

 

Now you may think I’m exaggerating a little bit. And I wish I were. But I’ve come to accept my “bad luck” as just another quirk that keeps my life interesting. Even Kelly didn’t believe me about Missy’s Law when we first got together. A little over 3 years later, he has come to accept the facts. Mostly it’s little things. For instance, if we’re outside, he’s come to realize he won’t need bug spray at all because the bugs are attracted to me. I am the best bug repellant for everyone else. Great for them, not as satisfying for me. A more compelling example would be the time we were living in the lofts in downtown. The lofts were very secure as they have a security gate to the parking lot that requires a remote control. Then once you’re in the parking lot you use the same remote to access the door to the building. You even have to use the remote to get out of the building. Well, Missy’s Law jumped in to action one afternoon by way of dead remote battery. Not a big deal, normally. But it happened after I had used the remote to get out of the building and was in the parking lot. So basically I was trapped in the parking lot. The remote would neither let me leave nor would it grant me access back in to the building. Missy’s Law also dictates that this wouldn’t happen when lots of people were coming and going from the building but rather mid afternoon when most people are at work. So now that I have explained a little about how this works, I feel comfortable describing my wedding day.

 

How many people get to say they got to ask “do we need to call you an ambulance?” on their wedding day?

 

As expected on any day that a major event is occurring, little things go wrong. Perhaps it is because we are looking for the day to be perfect that we notice such imperfections or perhaps our nervousness and anxiety about the day distracts us to the point that we are more prone to make mistakes that lead to imperfections. Either way, as a relatively intelligent girl, I knew to expect this and had the mentality that nothing is worth getting upset over.

 

So when the alterations lady didn’t have my dress ready the day before and told me they had written it down that I would pick the dress up on Thursday (even though the wedding was on Thursday), I opted not to freak out. I calmly explained the discrepancy and chose to carry on with my errands while she worked on my dress. It did make buying the undergarments for my dress difficult because I’d expected to have the dress with me but I didn’t so I’d have to play it by ear. The good thing is that I’ve learned from this that I’m not so good at playing things by ear. To keep the balance of the universe intact, the alterations lady did call to tell me that she had rushed to complete the dress by that evening. And that was great news. The problem was that I was on the other side of town guessing about which bra wouldn’t show. Luckily, my mother was sweet enough to run and pick up the dress and bring it by my house. Unfortunately the alterations were a little off making the dress fit oddly but there was nothing we could do about it at this point so I just accepted it. This little incident was one of those minor imperfections that I was expecting and that I had decided ultimately didn’t matter in the long run.

 

So, Thursday arrives and I go to get my hair done with my friend since childhood, Melissa. Everything goes well. Remarkably well. In fact, everything goes well for a while. I get ready. And, for once in my life, I was not late. I know, I know. It’s amazing. Sadly, though, I could have taken more time as the judge had us waiting outside for nearly half an hour. This normally wouldn’t be a big deal but the courthouse is a place that people can go to vote. And, I was surprised (and pleased) at how many people were actually out voting…in the middle of the afternoon…on a Thursday. This made parking a problem. So, needless to say, there was a lot of stimulus and nowhere to sit to wait. I felt badly for my mom and Kelly’s dad because they were left standing for over half an hour while we waited for the judge. I was a little nervous since this was the first time Kelly’s parents and my mom had met but they got along smashingly and I was so relieved.

 

The judge invited us in and asked if he could pray with us. Let me point out two key things here. First, Kelly is an atheist, an adamant atheist. Second, I had basically programmed myself to say yes to any question that was asked of me that day. Didn’t want to accidentally say no at a crucial point so had pretty much decided to answer in the affirmative to everything. So we prayed. Sorry, Kelly.

 

I should point out a few other key things here. Our judge was a very nice, very funny older Hispanic male who had not met us before. So when he started talking to Kelly about the responsibilities of becoming one and mentioned what would happen if I were to fall ill, there was a distinct tension that filled the air. Kelly’s eyes saddened. I tried to smile at him and somehow indicate – hey, we’ve been there/done that. Anything else is a piece of cake. And I think he felt my message. And when the judge started to talk to me about the role of the wife, the feminist in me really wanted to jump right out and say, “Look, buddy, you can skip this speech.” I tried to smile and nod my way through the lecture about how the man is the head of the family and I’m to support him in his decisions. Luckily, I felt Kelly squeeze my hands so I felt relief that he wasn’t buying in to that shit. We were both impressed at the credit the judge gave to women for taking the husband’s name (although he hadn’t asked if I was planning to take Kelly’s name). Then he played a little trick on me, which for everyone else was quite funny. He asked me to state my name. When I replied with Melissa Elaine Welsh, he asked me again. So I repeated my answer. He asked one more time and slightly more irritated I repeated the same answer. He looked at Kelly and asked him to state his name and Kelly did. Then he looked at me and said, “So what’s your name?” Finally, understanding what he was fishing for, I stated Melissa Towle. Everyone laughed. I tried to laugh.

 

So anyway the ceremony part was over and we were ready to head to dinner. After some confusion about who was following who and where we were going, we piled in to assorted cars and went to the restaurant that Kelly and I had picked out. When they showed it to us, they showed us an adorable room in the back so I assumed that is where we would be enjoying our meal. So I was little surprised when they pulled tables together in front. But still in my affirmative answer mode, I said this was ok. Seating arrangements were fun because we had to keep Kelly’s mom at the opposite end from Kelly’s dad. But everyone sat down and we were all enjoying ourselves. After the salads and before the meal, Sharon, Kelly’s stepmom, excused herself to the ladies room. A few minutes later I saw something in my periphery that looked like something black flying through the air. Then the voice of a waiter calls out, “Oh my God, ma’am, are you ok?” My heart sank. Sharon had slipped in a spilled drink and fallen down a ramp. So Kelly, his dad and my mom went to check on her. After quite a while, they carried Sharon over to the table where she, a trooper till the end, sat back down, elevated her foot and put ice on it. Of course, the food came after she’d fallen but before she’d returned to the table. Didn’t matter, though, because no one was very hungry after all that. She was so sweet, trying to endure the pain so not to steal any attention from the specialness of the day but I couldn’t stand to think of her hurting.

 

And, as if the circumstances weren’t tense enough, Kelly’s dad and mom decided it would be the appropriate time to dig up an old argument. We were able to nip it quickly but the mood had already been set. It was time to quickly wrap things up and head out. So we did. Kelly and his friend John carried Sharon to the car as I gathered her things. I told them to call us when they got home from the emergency room, but Sharon said she refused to call us on our wedding night.

 

At any rate, that was what happened. We ended up calling Sharon (who didn’t get home from the ER until after 9 pm) and she told us that she broke both her foot and her ankle and is in a cast up to her knee. And let me just point out that if we had been seated in the back like we were supposed to, Sharon would never have had to walk up that ramp. Additionally, I am pretty upset with the restaurant. They did provide ice and a towel but no apologies, nothing compensated on the ticket, no follow up, basically no recognition that they had done anything wrong.

 

I think of myself as a positive person. I can always find the silver lining even if I have to really, really dig for it. And Kelly can sometimes help in that respect. He did point out that at least I didn’t fall and break bones. He pointed out that a truly sad image would be me, in my wedding dress, and a cast. And, this is why I love him, he even made an awful pun which goes against everything he believes in because I love plays on words. He said, “You should be grateful. In a sense, Sharon took the fall for you.”