Welcome to Minnesota!

Scenic Minnesota from our rental car window.

With the last performance of Into the Woods now just a painful memory and rehearsals for The Music Man crushing my already empty soul, the Pinedas took a weekend jaunt to that vacation wonderland known as Minnesota to celebrate the nuptials of cousin Marion to her Midwestern beau, John.  Nothing against our red state brethren, but stepping out into that flat, barren countryside wasn't exactly the picker-upper I was looking for given my already mentally (and physically) weakened state.  I'm sure it's a green and bountiful land of plenty in the summer months, but in late April the lifeless fields could double for the Plains of Mars.

With an almost 2-hour flight delay, I arrived at MSP cranky and nauseous from the "Moroccan" chicken dinner (a soggy chicken breast over a flavorless bed of couscous) served in first class.  That's right, bitches, since I anticipated a horrible work day and an even more horrible (horribler?) travel day, I shelled out the extra hundred bucks to sit with the big wigs up front. Sadly, my $100 dinner left me reaching for the barf bag and a roll of tums.  Real silverware cannot mask the taste of a nasty meal.

Juan, Val and Trish picked me up at the airport and we immediately headed to the nearest McDonald's in order to obliterate the memory of my in-flight meal.  Nothing like cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets at midnight when you're stuck at a budget hotel off the interstate.

The wedding was fine.  It was basically just a lot of crying and the usual dubious fashion choices.  Juan, Val, Trish and I sang those perennial hits, Ave Maria and Panis Angelicus (yawn).  But the highlight of the morning was the wedding venue, The Cathedral of Saint Paul.  It rivals anything you'll see in the European capitals of the world.  It was truly a pleasure to sing sans microphone under that gorgeous acoustic dome.

The bride looked radiant in part thanks to Trish, who only hours earlier was applying Marion's make-up while frantically attaching hairpieces to the bride's panicked head.

Incidentally, we had to email our performance resumés weeks in advance to the musical director for his approval to sing at the ceremony.  I know, pretty ballsy, huh?  I can understand wanting to maintain some quality control, but if I'm shelling out two grand to rent the place out for an hour, I should have the option of letting my tone deaf Aunt Bertha cross that line off her bucket list if I so desire.

The awe-inspiring dome inside the Cathedral of Saint Paul.

I'm sorry, but only a gay can carry off orange pants and a pink and purple-striped bow-tie.  I sport my spiffy duds with my aunt Clodelsa (Tita Girlie) at the reception held at the scenic Schaar's Bluff Gathering Center.

Close up of Trish and a new relative behind us.

The reception was an extended affair with the wedding party showing up nearly two hours late due to an incompetent photographer.  It's 2013, dude.  Any loser with a digital camera can quickly snap pictures and by sheer luck, end up with a portfolio of usable shots.  This lumbering dolt literally took 30 seconds between each shot and an eternity setting up between each pose.  The extent of his direction was, "Everyone turn in and squeeze close together."  He didn't even bother to get up from his chair, so all the group family shots are from an oh-so-unflattering upward angle.  And who shoots with their subjects facing into direct sunlight?  We're already slanty-eyed Asians.  We don't need the extra squinting from the glaring Minnesota sun.  OK, rant over.

Of course, the situation would probably have been hilarious had we all been drunk.  But there was no alcohol at the reception so we had to deal with the photographer's shenanigans stone cold sober.  Oh well, at least there was a beautiful view and lots of family to commiserate with.

Val's sad look when she discovered no alcohol would be served at the reception.

After waiting two hours, cousin Tiffany's daughter (and flower girl), Penny, could no longer contain her hunger and raided the buffet early.  She sneaks behind a table, hoping to hide her ill-gotten goods from the menacing caterers.

The blushing bride finally arrived flanked by Cali friends, Lea and Cathy.

Marion and John cutting the cake.

The thought of going the rest of the weekend without alcoholic lubrication left Val, Juan, Trish and I in a panic.  So the four of us volunteered to stop by the liquor store to stock up for the after party.  With a case of beer, a couple bottles of wine and five bottles of champagne in hand, we headed to the "haunted house" for more food and a champagne toast.

Before the party, Juan, Val Trish and I had to make our pilgrimage to one of the Midwest's most revered destinations, Culver's.  For those of you who have not experienced the joys of a butter burger and frozen custard, you are missing out on a truly spiritual culinary experience.

The "haunted house" above bears a striking resemblance to Norman Bates creepy abode in Psycho.  Marion and her family rented the house for the weekend instead of staying at a hotel.  Though the exterior was slightly off-putting (Tita Girlie refused to step foot in the house until we confirmed the lack of dessicated corpses), the inside was surprisingly warm and comfortable - a perfect location to drink and relax after a long day of smiling and feigning interest in idle chitchat.

Finally, after a few drinks, Val let's loose with Tiffany's other daughter, Lily.  There's apparently an old chair somewhere in the house that's now missing its upholstering.

The groom's sister, Jane, shows the rest of us how they throw down in Minnesota.

With the wedding day festivities drawing to a close, we hit the sack early to rest up for the post-wedding brunch the next morning.

For our last day in Minnesota, we got up early to enjoy our last complimentary pre-brunch "snack" at the hotel's breakfast buffet (processed chicken cutlets with sausage gravy - I kid you not).  Soon after, we packed up the car and headed back to the haunted house for a final congratulatory hug for the newlyweds.  Still queasy from my earlier "snack," I still managed to snarf down an extra large piece of the groom's cake.  I never turn down free baked goods.

When traveling to Minneapolis, it's heresy to leave without paying homage to America's number one past time - shopping!  So even though I only had a couple of hours to make my flight, I bid good-bye to our relatives and new family and hightailed it to Mall of America, the USA's largest indoor shopping mall.

520 stores, 50 restaurants, an indoor amusement park and water park and an aquarium.  Yes, an aquarium in the middle of land-locked Minnesota.  God bless America.

Juan, Val and Tita Maxine (right - who also joined us on our little shopping excursion) admire the indoor roller coaster in Nickelodeon Universe.  Sadly, the park only sells days passes so we just settled for watching the screaming teens whiz by us.  With only an hour of shopping time, I was still able to do a couple hundred bucks worth of damage to my debit card.  Au revoir, Minneapolis!

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