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After 31 hours of travel time, I held up relatively well until the plane touched down in Oklahoma City. "If you're from Oklahoma, welcome home!" the flight attendant announced. I was sentimentally struck by the remark. My eyes watered up and my heart filled with happiness. These are my people. I know my rights. I speak the language. I understand the cultural nuances. I was home.

My parents met me at the airport at midnight. There was dad in a sweatshirt from 1990 and mom was as cute as ever. Hugs and kisses all around. My luggage was the first off of the carousel. It doesn't get any better than that.

Jet lag set in, prompting me to wake up at 4:30 a.m. Perfect time to walk the dogs (seems to be the story of my life; somewhere, there are always dogs that need to be walked). Crisp, almost-winter air filled my lungs. No car horns, no smog. I think I could even smell cow manure, and I'm certain that I heard a rooster crow.

Luckily, driving a car is like riding a bike, you never forget. Oh, the sweet taste of freedom. To drive a car (a sweet PT Cruiser rental in my case) all by myself, felt fantastic. I cranked the radio to Christmas music, turned up the heat and blew bubbles with my gum. First stop was to pick up my 13-year-old niece who was playing hooky from school so that she could hang out with Aunt B. Next stop was Sonic for a diet Dr. Pepper with vanilla and then Victoria's Secret for proper pjs and undies.

I just can't get enough of this stuff. I love the USA.

My Big Fat Azeri Wedding

There was the beautiful blushing bride, Yegana, a co-worker of Kyle's, and then there was me. An extremely embarrassed, red faced American, attempting to do a traditional Azeri dance right in the middle of a grand reception. All because the mother of the bride insisted that Adriana and I join the rest of the women on the dance floor. It was our first Azeri wedding and not fulling understanding the customs, I was worried that I might inadvertently insult someone with my booty shakin'. I just followed the other women and tried to make my body move like theirs. The dance resembled the hula, but with less hip movements. After two dances, I feigned exhaustion and headed to our table. Thankfully, Kyle had snapped a few photos of us dancing.

(Brooke & Adriana pre-dancing)


(Showing off our mad Azeri dancing skills)


(The mother of the bride is in aqua. She was a fabulous dancer. Seriously.)


(Brooke & Kyle attempting to dance Azeri style.)

The Azeri custom is for the bride and groom to obtain their marriage certificate in a small unceremonious business transaction. There is a not an official ritual for the guests, so the reception is the entire celebration.

I loved seeing the western-meets-eastern influences throughout the reception. The bride and groom entered the banquet hall walking down a center aisle with fireworks lighting the way (yes, we were indoors). The bride wore an elegant wedding dress, complete with a white veil. The couple sat on a raised platform at one end of the room, reigning over their guests, as it appeared to me. Kyle and I were seated with the only other American couple, Max and Adrianna, and then 3 more English-speaking guests dined with us as well. Food was served for 4 hours straight. Fish, chicken, caviar, Russian-type salads, fruits, rice. It just kept on coming.

(Yegana & Viegao walking down the aisle.)

The MC would alternate between folksy-sounding Azeri music, played by a large band, to a DJ spinning popular dance music. There was a performance by a traditional Azeri dancer and a trio of drums. By all measures, it was traditional reception, until the lights were dimmed and then the MC announced that there was a special guest from the USA. My faced turned red again. "Oh no!" I groaned. "He's going to introduce us to everyone!" But then, Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" blasted from the speakers and out walked a MJ impersonator. It was one of the more random things I have ever seen at a reception, but he was incredibly good - moon walking and crotch grabbing - he didn't miss a beat!

(Traditional Azeri dancer)


(Traditional Azeri drummers)

At 11 p.m., we called it a night. We missed the cutting of the cake, but I heard it was delicious. Maybe next time...