Phase 1: Returning the Rental Car. Wearing my dress, I drove the hour and fifteen minutes from my folks’ home to Detroit Metro Airport in my rental car. Upon reaching the Alamo lot, I emerged from the car, and got zero reaction from the efficient lady who checked the car back in. A little disappointing. Then I got on the shuttle bus to take me to the terminal. Two business dudes were seated across from me. At first, they too seemed to react little to my bridal-party-meets-track-star attire… then, I heard the quiet click of one of them snapping a clandestine photo on their cell phone. That’s more like it!
Phase 2: Making it through Security. Clearly, when I decided to take on this little experiment, I knew I’d get some stares. But I was unprepared for the full-out gawking in the winding line waiting to get up through security. Little girls pointed out my “pretty pretty dress” to their mommies, who averted their eyes. Several folks gave me big grins and nodded, offering some sort of mysterious support. One guy gave me a thumbs-up. When I reached the TSA agent, he stared at me. “That’s a nice dress,” he said, in a tone that clearly meant I am currently evaluating whether or not you and your uber-pink dress are a threat to national security. (Evidently, he decided we were not – made it through with no hassle! Not even a pat down! Better than usual! I should wear this thing all the time!) It was a long line, though, and I was tired... but did get a nice girl sitting in the terminal with an iPod to take this picture on the other side of the security gate. "Cool idea," she said, when I told her about the week-long dress-wearing. "Hope you make it."
Phase 3: Up in the Air. I had two flights to get through. Oh, and have I mentioned I hate flying? I generally spend flights doped up on Dramamine, eyes closed, praying hard and gripped by an unswerving sense of doom. “Terrified” is not a good look on anyone, let alone a rapidly-more-bedraggled wayward bridesmaid. I asked the man seated across from me to take my picture, which led to the following exchange:
- Stranger: “Um. Why?”
- Me: “I’m wearing this bridesmaid dress for a week. To get my money’s worth.”
- Stranger: “You’re wearing the dress for a week before the wedding?”Me: “No, no, the wedding was this past weekend. Wearing it before the week would be crazy!”
- Stranger: “Yeah, sure, I’ll take your picture.” (Subtext: you already live in Crazytown, Dress-Girl.)
So that was that. I survived flight one. Made it to Memphis, where the entire airport smells like BBQ. Reminded myself that I’m already two stains in, and have four more days to go. Walked past the BBQ. Got on my second flight. Exit row, all to myself. Made it home, to almost no points and stares – apparently down South, formal wear in traditionally informal settings is just more common. We’ll see how the rest of the week goes. I feel certain I’ll get some Southern reactions.
Stay tuned for Day Four: Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It’s Off to Work We Go… (and by “we,” I mean, of course, the dress and me – and you, dear readers).
DAY THREE TALLY:
Tearful Parental Farewells: 1 episode, shared by 3 people
Shameless Full-On Stares: Approximately 2,765,432
Clandestine Photographs: At least 1
Blog Posts: 3.... the rest of the week will likely not be so prolific. But you never know.