and I live in a… ok, I live in a big city now, but you know the song. I never wanted to get married in my small town. In all honesty, weighing in at somewhere around 36,000 people Jackson isn’t THAT small of a town. I grew up on the southwest side of Jackson County though; in Horton, Michigan. THAT is a small town. There are less than 4,000 people in Horton according to the 2000 US census.

Upon leaving I swore I’d never go back. I left my small town, middle-America, predominately white, God-fearing community for the all of cultural diversity, religions, and political viewpoints that a Big 10 school can offer.

When Pansy Dude and I decided to get married in Jackson to save some dough, I resigned myself to the fact that concessions are made by everyone, and this would be one I would have to make.

I swear- I’m going somewhere with this.

Never, ever, have I been so close to being a Bridezilla (or fought a dirtier fight) as when I decided to take on NASCAR and the hotel industry in my small town.

First thing is first right? Chose a date. Done. Chose a venue. Done. MOH calls. “Ummm Pansy. That’s a race weekend.” For those of you unfamiliar with NASCAR or racing, MIS or Michigan International Speedway is in Jackson. It means that Jackson (specifically Brooklyn, in Jackson Co.) is inundated with race fanatics for usually 4 days or so. I loathe race weekends. It may have something to do with my lack of appreciation for the races in general.

FINE. Change the date. Hand craft all save the dates while I’m laid up from surgery. Time for booking hotels. “What do you mean you won’t book me any hotels? No. It’s not a race weekend, I called MIS- they said races were these dates.” Anger sets in. MOH calls. “Ummm Pansy, I heard through the grapevine (her parents work for MIS seasonally) that NASCAR is changing the date.” WTF. Seriously? Begin calling MIS, NASCAR, and the hotels simultaneously- “Are you changing the date? I can’t get rooms for my guests if you don’t tell me when it is.” “No ma’am we can’t release that information to the public until later (insert southern drawl from the NASCAR service rep.)”

Turns out every hotel in Jackson has an open-ended contract with NASCAR to accommodate only NASCAR drivers/their families/etc when the race is in town. They were more than happy to sign a contract with me, but let it be known that if the race ended up being on that weekend- my contract would be voided and my guests would be out on the streets.

“You are going to ruin my wedding you… insert name calling (something that I wish I hadn’t done, and am seriously ashamed of) just tell me which date you’re moving it to so I can switch all my vendors AGAIN.”

Moral of my slightly too long story: get to know the area if you don’t already know it- especially if it’s small-ish and resources are limited. You don’t want all of your guests stuck in freeway traffic because you had no idea that there was the World’s Largest Annual Gun and Knife Show going on in the next small town over. And, at last, bullying gets you no were- nor does begging- whining- pleading, but least of all bullying. It just gets you hung up on.