This weekend, I went to a relative's wedding in Holland (Technically Saugatuck. I think). My sister and her boyfriend drove me there since my place was on the way, and they wanted to see my cat.
Knowing that Riley hides under my bed whenever he senses strangers, I kicked him out of the bedroom and closed the door. Bad idea. Instead of strangers making him paralyzed with fear like my sister's cats, he freaked out, started dashing around at an alarming speed, yowled, actually climbed on things, and clawed at the bedroom door in a desperate attempt to escape.
After giving Riley access to his favorite hiding place again, and leaving extra food, we were off to the wedding.
The ceremony was mercifully short, and the reception was held in a pavillion that was shockingly similar to the visitors center in Jurassic Park. My sister's boyfriend and I kept joking that a t-rex was going to burst into the room at some pint and devour a few guests.
Normally wedding bore me, but this one was fun since my sister's boyfriend is a fellow troublemaker. This was greatly enhanced by my sister being the sort of person who likes to follow the rules. Getting a reaction out of her doesn't take much effort. All we had to do was turn her name card upside down, take the coffee cups apart, or point my grandmother at something and turn her loose. (She's 87 and has realized she can say or do whatever she wants because she's old.)
My parents gave me a ride home, which my mother insisted on for two reasons. She wanted to see my new TV and expected that my grandmother would bother me instead of her. The second part of her plan backfired, naturally.
My cat's reaction to seeing my parents was a little better than his previous meeting with strangers. He hid under the bed, let out some sad pathetic cries, and was skittish for a couple hours after my parents left. I had bribe him with a few pieces of food before he trusted me again.