My younger brother got married this past weekend. The ceremony was on a beautiful beach in Siesta Key, FL; the weather was absolutely perfect; and there were fifty happy people that all enjoyed each others’ company immensely.
I was never so happy to be wrong.
When we received our save-the-date card, I thought I was being punk’d. Sunday at sunset? April 1st? They’re kidding, right?
We had to make arrangements to miss work and school, people had to travel to the Florida Gulf Coast during spring break, there was only one hotel on the whole condo-filled island – let’s just say that it was hard to get excited about it.
Then there was the issue of having our entire family together in one place. My family is a sprawly network of exs, steps and halfsies; and we don’t all exactly get along. The parents’ table alone needed to seat eight (and we all wanted to sit nearby to watch whatever may happen)!
The weekend came, though, and it was nothing like I expected. Thankfully.
Siesta Key is a lovely little town, with lots of restaurants, bars and clubs. The hotel was conveniently located. The populace was a young and energetic crowd – while lacking the Girls Gone Wild types that have come to personify spring break elsewhere – so music played loudly and places were open late. The beach was gorgeous and closeby. It really couldn’t have been any better.
At this point, I was left with two choices: Find some fault to validate my pessimism, or allow myself to just be wrong.
I went with being wrong and I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much.
I met great people – my brother and new sister-in-law have excellent friends – drank 97 Coronas (give or take), swam in the gulf under the full moon, and walked about 30 miles between the bars and the beach over the three days we were there.
The ceremony was beautiful, my brother and his wife were contagiously happy and everyone got along like, well, like family.
So, wrong I was, and happy to be so.
Choose to be wrong. You’ll finish ahead and have a better time doing it.
