1993 was a big year. We started our last semester of college, and were engaged. Commencement was on May 8th, and the wedding was on May 15th. We left Laramie for Minneapolis in late August after I finished my last summer class. I wanted to wrap up a second minor (minors are easier to get when you’d been in college for six years and had changed your major three times).
Our wedding was great. Everyone had a great time, and the party went on very late. The only three mishaps were the groomsmen kidnapping The Bride at the reception and being gone for a really long time while they had drinks at Uncle Charlies (a bar in Cheyenne). She also, during the vows, started laughing uncontrollably for several minutes. I’ve never been sure if I should take that personally. And third, my mother-in-law had asked that I cut my hair and shave my beard for the wedding. Which really was no problem, it’s only hair. The problem was that I’d gotten quite drunk and really, really sunburned playing golf a couple days earlier and couldn’t shave my beard. The hair went of course, but the beard had to stay. Which was serendipitous, because I haven’t been clean-shaven since 1990. You can’t have a beard for 50 years if you shave it off for your wedding.
We moved to Minneapolis, into a little apartment between downtown and the University of Minnesota (about 5 blocks from where Younger Son lives now). By the end of ‘93 She was working at Norwest Bank and I was a very low-level Production Assistant at a production company (I think my actual title really was Driver Guy. No joke, Driver Guy). It was a great year.
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