The Rogue Officiant Dress and Imaginary Conversations

I found myself hauling ass down East 9th. My morning had begun with time to spare, but so quickly can a simple errand turn into an excursion whereby I whip out my credit card and the salesgirl advises me that the best way to officiate a wedding is to "go rogue." 

My original itinerary was solid. Before meeting Tina at MoMA at noon, I would go to Meg and drop off Darcey's dress. The zipper needed fixed and everyone had agreed that I was to wear this dress, Darcey's dress, to officiate Karen and Anna's hitchin' next Saturday. Except I decided to just buy the exact same dress because it really is a fantastic dress and there was only one left and they will never make this dress again, ever. 

The whole affair proved time-consuming. Add an extra five minutes for me to gleefully imagine the moment when I informed the wedding party that I would not wear the dress I was supposed to wear. I would wear another dress. That was exactly the same. In my mind, this would be hilarious. 

And then Tina texted me at 11:37 to say that she was early and already upstairs canoodling with Jasper Johns.

So I found myself hauling ass down East 9th to catch the 6 uptown. Seven girls spanned the sidewalk before me like a Red Rover championship team. I attempted to get around them, between them and breathe on the backs of their necks in hopes they could take a hint. The girls retained their human barricade formation. 

I popped out my earbuds and said, "um, excuse me please."

The girls parted and I zipped through their ranks. Just as I was shoving the music back into my ears, I heard one of the girls say "They walk very fast here." Five steps later, and way too late, I realized she had said it in Swedish and I cursed under my breath. 

What a fucking priceless opportunity I had just blown. I could have replied, in Swedish, "Yes, they certainly do." 

Except in my imagination I would have come up with something better and I would have said it in a timely fashion.