Royal wedding inescapable

Who would ever believe I would live in the time of two separate “weddings of the century.” I tried my best to ignore them both but it just wasn’t working on this last royal wedding.

A couple of days before the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton I awoke to the memory I had dreamed I was in the wedding party. Stranger yet, I was there to escort a well-known woman in town — not my wife.

I guess I should be thankful I hadn’t dreamed I was the bride preparing to wed rowdy Prince Harry. Man that would have been worse.

Try as I might, though, I couldn’t avoid the coverage and hub-bub surrounding the royal wedding. Trying to find some news coverage of the terrible tornadoes in Alabama, I was perplexed that all the anchors offering insight into the damage were doing it from London.

What the heck . . . Why do these people keep cutting back to stories about what type of covered coach the couple will leave in if the weather turns a bit dank in Merry Olde England. It’s a little hard to worry about the wedding gown getting wet when people are being flattened by twisters all over the South and I can’t get the sand out of my eyes from our fires, drought and wind.

I thought maybe I could escape to Facebook Land, but it was there with this posting:

In honor of the big wedding on Friday, use your royal wedding guest name this week. Start with either Lord or Lady. Your first name is one of your grand-parents’ names. Your surname is the name of your first pet, then “of” followed by the name of a street you’ve lived on. Just for fun, do this. Post yours here. Then cut and paste it into your status.

OK I’ll play along, refer to me as Lord Ruby Knucklehead of Second Street. Imagine that, the Windsors inviting me, Lord Knucklehead to the big bash. Even President Obama was snubbed and Muammar Khadafi’s name was scratched from the guest list but Lord Knucklehead made it.

If only my memory of my dreams were a little sharper. What does royal wedding cake taste like? Did I get to dance with future queen? Did I field the royal garter? Or was I in there vying for the royal bouquet?

Knowing this might have been my last chance to catch a really big royal wedding you would think I would have set the alarm to watch coverage of the big bash on the Telly. No, if Lord Knucklehead can’t experience the real thing I decided I would just stay tucked in my bed and where I can also be transported to a fairytale land where princesses don’t die in car crashes and matrimony remains holy.

Wake me and you better have wedding cake.