As I stood in the back of The Church of the Holy Name of Jesus I heard, soft and clearly, Allison's voice piercing the wide expanse between us as she sang a prayer of redemption. "O Sister, let's go down to the river to pray. Good Lord show me the way."

I couldn't see anything but stained glass and her voice was distant coming down on me, and in an instant my breath escaped and my eyes filled. I turned around to hug the eldest of T's younger sisters*, J, and she whispered, all panicky, "I can't feel my legs."

But I'm getting way ahead of myself.

I arrived in New Orleans around 9 p.m. on Thursday night. Teri's sister JM, who's in Atlanta for a summer co-op, had managed to get on standby on the same flight, but she was 35 rows behind me, leaving me sitting next to an Ernest Hemingway lookalike who, despite telling me he was a frequent traveler, didn't get the reading-means-don't-talk-to-me rule of flying.

My mother and stepfather met us at the airport and we drove straight to Kenner to the seamstress' house for my first, and only, fitting of my bridesmaid dress. Martha had to make a few minor adjustments, so I left the dress for her to work on overnight. Both of T's cousins had to pick up their dresses the next day anyway, so she assured me it wouldn't be a problem.

We dropped JM off at the family house and I ran in quickly to say hello to T but she was out dropping off the goody bags at the hotels. Her sister, S, gave me a big hug and said that I'd lost weight and was, in a running theme of the weekend, already drunk.

My mother had generously booked me my own room for Thursday night, since last week I came down with the cold from hell, and she figured I could really use my rest. I stayed in this tiny room in a building that predates the Civil War. I slept soundly dreaming of wedding marches and bouquets.

Friday morning I met up with Court, who had just arrived, and we took a taxi cab to the bridesmaids' luncheon, hosted by T's maternal aunt, who's also her godmother, Miss Anne. (She's an amazing woman, who "coincidentally" enough, through powers much greater than the internet, used to run around with JoLowe and Mr. Lowe super way on back in the day.) It was held in the Nautical Club, a charming private club Uptown, and Miss Anne and another of T's aunts did an amazing job setting the place up. The ladies lunched on food prepared by the owner, who we took to calling Dr. Carter because he was a dead ringer for Noah Wyle. When he came out to tell us the menu he carried his infant daughter Savannah. Dr. Carter said that he used to be able to command the attention of a room full of women, but finds it easier now to have the baby do it. (As we were lined up in the back of the church Miss Anne whispered to us that as she was settling the bill he'd told her that while he'd served dozens of wedding parties he'd never seen such a stunning group of bridesmaids.)

After the luncheon T's cousins and I had arranged to drive waaaaaay back out to Kenner to pick up our dresses. As is par for the course with their family there was much confusion about who was driving us out there and who needed to be where to get ready for the 4:30 rehearsal. It took close to an hour but Anna finally commandeered her father's car, that is never driven by anyone but him, to take us out there. As we were hopping in the Infinity, T's brother, RG, told us not to take the freeway because we'd never get back in time. When we asked how we should go, he shrugged and said "Dunno" before hopping in his mother's car to drive to Steinmart.

It took us about 30 minutes, as we glanced nervously at the backed up traffic going East, but we finally found the seamstress' house. We figured if we just ran in and ran out then we'd have about 20 minutes to quick change for the rehearsal. We rang the doorbell. . . nothing. We knocked. . . nothing. We tried the door. . . locked. LP ran back to the car for her phone book and we tried calling. We could hear the phone ringing inside, with no answer. I peered through the window and saw our dresses just hanging there in Martha's dark sewing room. We tried the door again. We panicked.

Martha was going to Miami for the weekend, but as LP had called to remind her we'd be by this afternoon, we certainly didn't think she'd be gone already. "What should we do?" Anna asked me, her blue eyes big. "I don't know," I said. The three of us huddled in the doorway, trying to escape the poisonous sun, and absent-mindedly knocked on the door.

Suddenly it opened. LP practically fell inside and we were greeted by a surprised older gentleman. We all spoke at once saying how we just neededtogetourdresseswe'reinahurrythanks! LP's wasn't hanging with ours so we had to search for it, and when we found it, it hadn't been hemmed, so we basically stole it. Plus the top was missing the little bow so Anna rummaged around the sewing room till she found it, and pocketed it. We ran out of there giggling and in the world's biggest hurry.

By the time we got back to New Orleans we had to go straight to the church for the rehearsal. And of course, we're a few of the first ones there. Anna and I snuck off behind a pillar to put lipstick on, so at least we wouldn't look like we'd been running all over the West Bank, despite the fact that we were wearing the same clothes. Like all rehearsals the church was on a tight schedule and it went quickly. And poor Al got absolutely no direction on when and where she'd be singing as the organist wasn't there. The kids were adorable, and cracked me up as they somehow managed to walk the aisle in a diagonal line, straight for their parents in the front pews.

Luckily there was an cocktail hour before dinner was to be served, so the we had time to change and get ready.

The dinner was in the Plimsoll Club on the 30th floor of the New Orleans World Trade Center. The room is covered in windows so you get an entire view of the river and skyline. The room was packed and there were introductions all around. I introduced Al and the MOC to my mother and stepfather, before grabbing them to head to the bar. (Another running theme.)

I sat at a table with JM, another Atlanta girl and several of C's friends from college, including the groomsman I was paired up with. (And yes, they're all married.) Dinner was amazing. I don't think I've ever had a filet that good and before long the champagne was poured and people began making their way up to the microphone. I think there must have been a dozen toasts, and that is testament to how many people love this couple and feel close enough to them to honor them in front of the closest people in their lives.

I finally worked up enough courage to go up there and as soon as I did, I burst into tears. I shook it off with an "okay" and then as soon as I started talking again I got all choked up. I really don't even remember exactly what I said, except I told T and C how much I love them and tried to convey to T's family how much I appreciate and adore them, and I think I did that, but not in the articulate composed way I'd intended. (Oh, and I also told the story about the first time I met C; he offered me his Tevas as we were walking down Ponce de Leon Avenue at 4 a.m. because I'd brilliantly removed my shoes.) I pretty much just looked at J the entire time because I knew if I made eye contact with T, her mother or my mother that I'd really lose it.

Later on S told me that she'd just stopped crying before I walked up there and that when I started talking she began blubbering all over again. At least I wasn't alone in my uncomposedness. (Really, there were tears all around, but they were all of joy.)

After the dinner and the hours-long goodnights (when C's dad hugged me good-bye he told me that I really need to learn to be more emotional. heh) Al, MOC, Court and I went upstairs to the 360 Club for a drink. When the elevators opened Al said, "And suddenly we're in Los Angeles." The floor of the circular bar rotated and it was filled with chaise lounges (and the required snuggling couples), big soft couches and hip ottomans. (And yes, it was as cheesey as it sounds. And not in a good Meat of Cheese kind of way either.) I had the world's nastiest gin and tonic and tried to stay awake.

I spent that night with Court in her room. (Which was in an even older building and had the prettiest antique bed with a sweet eyelet quilt.) We slept in and had breakfast at La Madeleine's, before taking the streetcar to Walgreen's so she could get manicure stuff. I bought a card for T, that not surprisingly, never found its way out of my bag. We opted to walk the six blocks back to the hotel and stopped off at the daiquiri stand next to the hotel. We got the world's strongest strawberry daiquiris and went back to the room. I painted her nails and flipped through InStyle to find a way to do my hair. (If anyone has the newest issue with Buffy on the cover, I stole "The Look" hairstyle, the updo shown on Kate Beckinsale.)

Around 2 p.m. I met T at the Maple Street Salon for our hair appointments and fulfilled my bridesmaid duty by bringing her lunch. While we were sitting in hot rollers we ate our turkey sandwiches and admired T's pedicure. It starting sprinkling at that point but T, in her amazing nonbridezilla calmness, just shrugged it off with a "We've got tents" comment. The guy who did my hair did an amazing job and before long I was being whisked back to the house to get ready.

All the girls and I did our make-up together and listened to David Gray and whatever else K had laying around her room. The excitement trickled in the air and we all had smiles plastered on our faces. (Except for that brief freak-out K had when she couldn't find any shoes to wear. In situations like that you just back away slowly.) Miraculously we were all ready when the photographer got there at 5 p.m.

He took photos of T with us before and then she got dressed privately with just the wedding coordinator. While we were waiting downstairs Anna and I made an executive decision and cracked open a bottle of wine. We all stood around drinking out of paper cups and trying not to sweat on our silk dresses.

T came down the wide wooden staircase looking just like a princess (but prettier!) and we all gasped and cheered before gathering in front of the baby grand piano for photos. I think the photographer was enamored with the image of T all in white surrounded by her four gorgeous dark-haired sisters, because he took quite a few of that five pack.

After the photos, as we waited for the limousines, there were many trips to look in the mirror to put on more Lip Glass and sneaking into the kitchen for shrimp.

Around 7:05 we realized that the limos were not coming so the bridesmaids all climbed into the caterer's and coordinator's Range Rovers and headed off to the church. S kept saying, "Y'all! Rovers are classy!"

Everyone oohed and aahed as we stood in front of the church and we kissed people hello before congregating in the rear of the sanctuary to wait for our walk down the aisle.

At 7:30 exactly Allison started singing "Down to the River" and as soon as I heard her voice all these emotions hit me.

Since I was the second to the last bridesmaid to walk down the aisle I had time to compose myself. I watched C's sister walk down in front of me and I had to remind myself to slow down. My smile was so big I felt like my jaw was going to drop off. When I met up with my groomsman half way down the aisle he asked how I was doing, which I thought was sweet.

Once everyone was at the alter the ring bearers and flower girls, all T's cousins, walked down the aisle and I couldn't help but giggle like a loon. The boys rang huge gold bells and I've never seen a sweeter sight than those two little boys in their white satin pantaloons, ringing those bells with all their might.

There's really just no way to encapsulate the nuptial mass. It went much faster than I thought it would and the Priest found a nice balance between reverence and humor. (I mean, he mentioned that the Holy Spirit, for whatever reason, was hanging out in the Clermont Lounge that fateful night.) T and C glowed and were totally focused on one another. I'm sure they completely forgot the 400 people staring at them.

After the ceremony we gathered for a few more photos before being ushered back to the house for the reception. The rest of the night is a total blur. I spent my time between the barbecue shrimp and cheese grits station, the bars and the dance floor. The band had the bridesmaids line up to sing "Respect" and the highlight was when T's mom sang "Me and Bobby McGee." It's not a moment I'm likely to forget. T sisters and I stood up front with our glasses in the air singing along with the "hey hey heys" and laughing like crazies.

Before I knew it, it was time for T and C to cut the cake, but first the six single bridesmaids and a few guests had to line up for the cake pulls. I got the heart! And sweet Hallie got the button, and when T saw it she was like, "Oh Hallie! I told them to not put that in there!" and when Hallie asked what it was, T was like, Uh, it means you're going to be an old maid. Whoops.

I skittered off after the cake was cut, stealing a bite from a friend's piece and ran off to who knows where. (Probably to the bar.)

Suddenly it was past 11:30 p.m. and it was time for the couple to leave. We all lined up under the tent so T could toss her bouquet, and even though I promise you we didn't talk about this beforehand, the cluster of Virginia roses effortlessly flew right through the air into my hands. (I can really use all the luck I can get.)

We all waved and cheered as they ran out the back gate to the car waiting to whisk them away to the Ritz and then it was over.

I went upstairs to gather up my stuff and had to search in the closet organization forgot for my flip flops. I slipped them on, and carried my silver heels and bag around as I said goodnight to the family and remaining guests.

As the Atlanta girls and I were walking past the house RG leaned over the white picket fence and grabbed my arm - "Why are you leaving? We're going out!" I told him we were just so tired, and uh drunk, and that I had to go back and change. So he slipped ten bucks in my hand and said the cab ride back was on him, but that the night was in no way over.

And that is a story for next time.

* I figured I should try and list her siblings for you to help alleviate some of the confusion. T has five younger siblings - a brother RG, 24, and then the four "girls": J, 22; JM, 20; S, 19; K, 18. They were all, obviously, in the wedding and I get along with all of them as friends in our rights as well as thinking of them as family.

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