How Jesus Quintana and Sexual Harassment Panda
Played A Role in My Wedding

ACT I

This here story begins way back in the year two thousand and four. I was getting ready to graduate from The University of Tennessee with my master's degree, I was preparing for two solo art shows, getting ready to move the fuck away from Knoxville, and I was planning my wedding. I was running out of time for everything that was about to happen, and I needed a wedding dress. Fast. My seemingly impossible task of finding the right dress was amplified by the fact that a) I really really hate wedding dresses (all the trains and bustles and sequins and shit) and b) I had next to zero cash. So's I spent most of my weekends going to various dress shops and looking for a good find on Ebay. When I heard about a sale at David's Bridal (ugh! The Wal-Mart of bridal attire) I figured it wouldn't hurt to check it out. So I went with a friend, and the employees wouldn't let me past the foyer without getting all of my personal information, including my mailing address. I was a sucker and gave it to them. Of course, I didn't find anything I liked during my visit, and two days later I started receiving wedding mailers at my house. Crappy stuff. Advertisements for rings and shoes and cuff links and champagne glasses and crystal dinnerware and OH MY LORD it was overwhelming. They must have sold my name to all these companies for at least the daily wages of one of their sweat shop child laborers.

A month or so later I was with my mom, still without a dress, and heard that David's Bridal had another big sale. It couldn't hurt to check it out, could it? This time I would outsmart them. I would give them the wrong name and address... no more mailers!

As expected, the lady greeted me at the foyer of the store and started taking down my information.

"First name?"
"Rachel." (True.)
"Last name?"
" Smith." (False. It was the first common surname that came to me. I know, not very imaginative, but...)
"Fiancee's name?" (Umm. The first name that popped into my head was "Jesus Quintana". As in the pederast from The Big Lebowski. That creep can roll, man. But, Rachel, it's gotta sound believable...)
"Jesse. His name is Jesse."
"Last name?"
" Quintana."

At this point, my mom started laughing so hard she choked on her own saliva and walked out of the store. The lady asked me to spell Quintana, and I started giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nevous. I'm not used to spelling it for people, yet."
"Oh, that's alright, honey. Going from Smith to Quintana is an awfully big change. Address?"

I gave the address of an asshole graduate student who lived in an apartment downstairs from me.

I ended up getting the perfect dress at a hole-in-the-wall Mom and Pop place for super cheap - with no freakin' train or bustle.

And THAT is how Jesus Quintana played a role in my wedding planning.

ACT II

Wedding day. My nerves were shot. The two art shows, graduation, and a move to another city all happened within days of each other. My hairstylist didn't show up to my appointment so I had to fix my own hair. The photographer was nowhere to be found and I enlisted an emergency photographer to take over. While he was out buying film, the original photographer showed up, late... had to figure out how to pay for both of them. Some of the family was only invited to the reception. Would they be pissed? There was nothing religious in the ceremony. Would some people start crying and condemn me to hell? The road trip honeymoon was put on hold because the car was in the shop for major repairs. And it was HOT in the dressing room that my bridesmaids and I were using in the upstairs of an old antebellum house. Like 110 degrees hot. With one rotary fan.

Right before the ceremony, there were only four of us upstairs - me and my three best friends. When the music started (classical guitar, no "Wedding March", thank you) the bridesmaids started walking down the stairs one at a time. Lydia, my college friend, Vegas partner, and all around favorite person, saw that my nerves were shot. I was at my breaking point. And she said "If you get nervous down there, just sing the Sexual Harassment Panda song to yourself."

Now, we're all familiar with Sexual Harassment Panda, right? From South Park? Yeah, the one with the really ridiculous song.

All three of the bridesmaids had left me, and I was upstairs all alone, waiting for my cue to go down the treacherous winding staircase. I heard the ring bearer throw a screaming tantrum and a there was a flurry of excitement as they tried to get the flower girl to walk down the aisle alone, but she wasn't having it. And so I'm waiting for the kids to stop screaming, and it takes an awkardly long time for someone to realize that the screaming kid needed to get out of my way - then finally I give myself the okay to descend. I somehow managed to make it all the way down the staircase in my four inch heels without tumbling and breaking my front teeth. So when the ceremony finally happened, I was so incredibly exhausted and happy and relieved that I started to tear up. And I really REALLY did not want to cry in front of all those people. As my quivering left eyelid conjured up enough moisture to almost touch my eyelashes, Erin's voice rang through my ears. "Just sing the Sexual Harassmant Panda song to yourself." Which I did. And the biggest fit of giggles hit me and my bladder so fast... I started shaking all over, trying to keep from bursting out loud, and trying to keep from peeing myself. And then I couldn't get the damn jingle out of my head. "It's Sexual Harassment PANda! It's Sexual Harassment PANda! It's Sexual Harassment PANda!" I think I was even bopping my head from side to side. I heard nothing the officiant said to me, but I had a huge grin on my face and I faintly heard people in the audience chuckle. Guess they thought I was giggling because I was nervous. They didn't realize I had this damn song in my head. Jason, who was looking fine in his new suit, didn't even know this song was in my head - I hadn't seen him since the day before (yeah, so I'm superstitious. What's it to ya? I bet you won't touch a fifty dollar bill in a casino. Ooooh, snap!) And so I got through the rest of the ceremony, and ne'er a tear was shed. Until the reception, when I told people what had happened, and I laughed til I cried.

And THAT is how Sexual Harassment Panda played a role in my wedding ceremony.