If I Ever Actually Do Get Married...

Today I spent about 10 minutes of my 11:00 hour doing nothing but ruminating about where to have lunch. This is a common occurrence, since I get supernaturally hungry by noon. Usually the deliberation is whether to go out for something or be lazy and just grab a wrap at our canteen one flight up. Finally I decided that I wanted a bucket of salad at Chop't, and since it was nearing high noon I hightailed it out of the building.

Chop't works like other make your own salad places, except the quality of the food is a little higher, the choices more expansive, and they chop your shit up for you so you're not stuffing romaine leaves the size of your palm down your gullet. The problem with Chop't is that it's a rare mix of yummy and good for you. Thus, the lines can stretch out the door, particularly on gorgeous warm days like today. So in order to guarantee you won't be waiting on line for your eats for more than a few minutes, you have to get there within a very short window of time: 12:00 to 12:20.

What does Chop't have to do with getting married, you ask? It has to do with my bizarre train of thought. Stay with me now.

The wait for Chop't is bested by Shake Shack 6 blocks to the north. Every time we at work make a plan to venture up to Madison Square Park for some tasty burger treats I end up running around banging trash cans together at 11:30 in an attempt to rouse everyone into action, because if you don't get to Shake Shack before 12:00 you're screwed.

Chop't to Shake Shack to getting married. So Buddy and Schmoop have finally set a date for the wedding. June 30. I've always thought about the places where it might be fun to get married, and Madison Square Park is one of them. A little tent set aside, a quick ceremony, then the reception catered by Shake Shack. How unbelievable would that be? Sliders for everyone!

Another fantastic place is Vegas, which funny enough is where Buddy & Schmoop are doing it. My version would be decidedly less classy than theirs, since I would elect to have the ceremony performed by Elvis, and the reception held at the Peppermill. The wedding party would be seated around the fire pit, with the other attendees in the surrounding velvet booths. Perhaps we would be served a buffet of shrmp and waffles, and treated to a scorpion bowl the size of a fishbowl.

Or how about Venice Beach, CA? Married on the pier, reception at that shithole bar Hinano?

These bridezillas getting married at the Four Seasons with 400 people on the guest list: I just don't get that. It's your wedding -- relax and just enjoy it. There's no way I'm going to be so focused on all the details that I miss out on the party. Small and intimate. Inexpensive but charming. Memorable. That's my idea of what the day should be.

Or maybe I'll just do it here.