It’s a well-established fact that given the opportunity, we will try to do ourselves in with insane schedules. We probably need professional intervention. This past weekend presented us with just such a option.

Friday evening we were slated to photograph a reception in downtown Denver. Saturday afternoon we were on deck to photograph a wedding in central New Jersey. These two events were scheduled less than 24 hours apart from each other. Two states, two timezones, one long plane ride in between. Plan it and they will pack every minute in to make it happen.

The reception in Denver was beautiful and fun, full of good people and happy faces. We enjoyed our time with the bride and groom immensely (never fear, we will share some photos with you shortly). But this story picks up at the airport a few hours later that Friday night, as we waited to board our red-eye flight to the east coast.

12:18 a.m. MT /// This is really a tale of a wristwatch. A wristwatch that had no choice but to travel along through time and space at unseemly hours of the night, upon the weary arm of a gal who toted along pounds and pounds of camera equipment, a laptop, a novel or two and some toothpaste. (One should never forget her toothpaste.) The wristwatch likely believed its owner to be loose a few marbles, for such a plan is mildly outrageous. But a wristwatch is in the unfortunate position of being unable to choose its owner, and therefore its day-to-day destination.

12:44 a.m. MT /// Buckled in and ready to fly east. The wristwatch isn’t very comforted by the “…while we never anticipate a water evacuation…” speech. Time to settle in to the 3-4 hour flight ahead.

5:10 a.m. MT /// We have arrived on the east coast. It is humid and lush with vegetation. It is also two hours ahead, so….time change!

7:11 a.m. ET /// There, that’s more like it. All parties involved are worn out and ready to nap for as many hours as possible before continuing on to the wedding festivities this afternoon. Napping is always a worthwhile endeavor, believes the wristwatch, for it can sit on the nightstand and not be bothered. It simply must tick along, gear by turning gear.

7:36 a.m. ET /// Let the napping and ticking along commence. See you in a few hours…

5:25 p.m. ET /// The wedding is underway. Everything is a little bit of a blur to the wristwatch, which thinks its gears may be rusting up as humidity seeps into every crevice of its little self. (The wearer of the watch believe she may be in the same boat.) However, the bride is resplendent in her gown and flower crown, the gents have donned vests and jackets, the ceremony begins in 35 minutes, and everyone is dressed to the nines and ready to party.

11:54 p.m. ET /// Six minutes until midnight and we may all soon turn into pumpkins. Weirder things have happened, presumes the wristwatch. The ceremony was pure loveliness, the dessert divine, dancing of all varieties graced the reception floor. The guests aren’t quite ready to bid adieu, so it is on to a nightcap where future reunions will be circled on a calendar.

2:33 a.m. ET /// We have done it. We are done. We are exhausted. We will spend the next day sleeping in, sleeping some more and eating smoked pork sandwiches. There were moments when the wristwatch wasn’t sure we would make it through such a jam-packed period, but with the help of coffee and extra bits of wedding cake snagged from a passing platter, all members of the photographic contingent made it through with flying colors. One day we will master the art of schedules and perhaps not undertake such a demanding one. Perhaps…

More later, my lovelies.