The 19 Hours I Don’t Remember in Fredericksburg, Texas

Disclaimer: This is not a dad appropriate post. Yes, that means you, Rick.

Fredericksburg, Texas. I'd only been here a couple times - a few times as a drive through with an ex-boyfriend who has a ranch near here and once as a weekend trip with Natalie to visit her parents ranch just outside of town. All of those trips were spent ranching, and not in the town, so I was excited to get to see actual Fredericksburg.

We set our timing perfect and Schmennifer and I showed up at the church about 10 minutes before the everything started. The ceremony was beautiful and simple. Natalie looked stunning, which came as no surprise as she's probably one of the most gorgeous people I've ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. We split quickly after the vows were exchanged because we wanted to drop our car off at the hotel and walk to the reception so we could get trashed and not worry about driving.

As soon as we showed up at the reception, we realized there was a problem. We were both wearing hooker heels (an attempt to make ourselves look more attractive/single) and the reception was held outside in a tent with... a grass floor. This was not going to work. Every step I took, my gorgeous 5 inch platform stilettos sunk deeper and deeper into the dirt. Cue Natalie's mom (who was absolutely beautiful also as the Maid of Honor), "Umm.. what on earth are y'all thinking, those heels are not going to cut it, do you have shoes you can change into?" Uhh... ya, I'm thinking, but we just effing walked all the way here in these, you really think we should go all the way back and put our boots on? Plus we just got a BEER and I am thuuuursty. "Abbey, you can walk down the street with a beer, there's a reason I live out here in the middle of no where, you think I'm crazy?" Yes Momma Cunningham. Yes. So we trek back in search of our cowboy boots. I mean, what's a wedding in Texas if you don't trade your Louboutin's for some Justin's before the reception? (Not that I'm rich enough to own Loubiton's or Justin's, but you get the picture).

The boots were a good choice, as my feet were extremely comfortable the entire night. We danced and flirted the night away. We met Natalie's hubby, Allen (who I hadn't met yet, due to me being in other countries since the beginning of their courtship) and several of his fraternity brothers (ow ow!). We convinced the bartender to give us tequila shots even though there was a strict "no-shot" policy (the only mistake made, Miss Natalie... a no-shot policy? C'mon!). What he did was gave us salt lined "tequila on the rock (singular)" so we took our our rock and shot it. Success! The next thing I know, I'm agreeing when Allen asks me if I will partake in "kicking it up a notch" for them in their marital bed by joining them (um, duh). In addition, since Schmennifer and I knew almost none of Allen's friends, we had given them all nicknames like Hitler, Judy Emmy Lee's mom, Emily from the Bachelor, mini-Allen. At this point, Judy starts dancing and I find it appropriate to yell at the top of my lungs "GET 'EM JUDY!!" To which she actually turns around and stares me down. Uh oh.

Sufficiently drunk at this point, we get kicked out of the reception and head down to a bar down the street. Here, I make friends with a guy named Austin who is dating a younger sorority sister of mine, Allie. Austin and I have eyed the bartender who is, well... gorgeous. Austin is giving me advice on how to pick aforementioned bartender up. This was Austin's ACTUAL plan for me getting the attention of the bartender.

Austin - "Alright, I've got a plan. You're going to go up to him and order a beer. Pay with a credit card and in the tip line, instead of putting a dollar amount, write, 'My Legs'."
Of course, I thought this was genius. Though I didn't really understand it. However, the bar had a $10 minimum on cards and I wasn't about to buy 5 beers just to prove a point. So I paid cash, wrote my number on a napkin and that was that (I know, so uncreative).

Then some stuff happened I don't remember.

Then I was making out with Hitler. Then I told him I couldn't make out with him because I didn't want the bartender to see.

Then I was talking Spanish to some Mexican on the dance floor.

Then I was in some dude's car with like 10 other people driving away from the hotel on some backcountry road.

Then I was drinking a beer in the bed of a pickup truck.

Then I was waking up at 11 AM with 3 missed calls and a text from the bartender, whose name turned out to be Austin as well and who I saved in my phone as Aidtin Bartenferly - an indication of how drunk I was. I assume that was supposed to say Austin Bartender, but WHOtf knows.

Schmennifer's night was no less eventful. Though I can't remember what she can, so I can't speak for the scandalous things she may or may not have participated in.

We got back on the road to Austin (the city, not the bartender) and met Ian and Shannon for lunch at Trudy's, one of my favorite Mexican restaurants in Austin (again, the city, this could get confusing). We I sipped on a Mexican martini and scarfed down a fried avocado before getting back on the road to Ft. Worth attempting to make it back home in time for the Super Bowl.

We made it to one of our friend Erin's house with a 6 pack and KFC just in time for the half-time show and had a nice relaxing weekend cheering on our Packers and then watching Glee.

I thought my weekend was amazing, I even called my mom, college style, to tell her about all of the events of the weekend and how awesome everything went.

And then I got home to Tulsa, and there was something waiting in the garage that I was not expecting. Explaining this will come in a separate post. But let's just say, the weekend got taken to a WHOLE new level of awesomeness.