The “Neale sisters” crash a wedding.

Standard

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We stood outside the reception area.

“This can’t be right.”

“There are like seven tables in there, and only a few more outside.”

“Crap.  This was supposed to be a really BIG wedding.”

We spotted the caterer and asked for a water.  As we sipped, we “smalltalked” the RSVP total out of him.  Fifty-seven.

“We’re out of here,” Drea hissed under her breath.  “You can’t crash anything under a hundred.”

“Ok, ok, so it would be idiotic to stay,” I admitted.  “But ……. just think of the bragging rights.  We can DO this.  We’re the fucking Neale sisters.  Sort of.”

And so we did.  For one solid … hour.

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Eventually the lack of a place card was becoming conspicuous and we made our escape.

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But not before we got the phone numbers of the Cal State baseball team.

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