Previously, on "Survivor": Sean's alphabetical voting strategy gets him in hot water when Jenna is voted off the island ... Oh, wait, sorry -- my mind's on an island in the South Pacific where Jenna, the 23-year-old single mom just left and has been invited to pose for Playboy. I just hope Richard gets the boot next.

OK, here you go: The long-awaited, highly-anticipated, oh-so-sophisticated second installment of my recollection of Barb and Mike's Wild Wedding. Today will take you from Thursday afternoon and my arrival in the Windy City to the end of the ceremony on Saturday. Tomorrow: The reception and after-party. Thursday: My trip home via upstate New York.

Enjoy your procrastination.

DAC

CHICAGO: CLEARLY BETTER WITHOUT PETER CETERA

By the time I headed for Chicago, it was 3 o�clock. I�d forgotten about the traffic. An electronic sign on the Indiana Toll Road warned of a 25-minute delay ahead. On the way back three days later, I saw that it was a line several miles long leading into the toll plaza at the western terminus of the road. I took the alternate route suggested, �exit 31.� That�s all they said, �exit 31.� I had to make up the rest from there. It was easy, of course, since I-94 lies a mile north. But I-94 was not without congestion, and I continued to amend my route as I went, eventually landing on I-294, the loop road through the western Chicagoland suburbs. It was the perfect move, carrying me uninterrupted at 75 mph around the city, past O�Hare, and into Northbrook.

My friend Michelle O, Class of 2000, was herself stuck in the traffic on her way home to Arlington Heights, only a half-hour drive through the �burbs from our hotel. I checked in, cleaned up, and went out along the tree-line avenues to meet Michelle for dinner.

Later that night, I sat around the hotel wondering if I should track down Courtenay and Michelle K. I�d already tried looking up Courtenay's last name, but the desk said they didn�t have a guest by that name. I thought about giving them Michelle K's last name, but, until now, I couldn�t even spell it without looking it up, so I watched TV and went to sleep. Turns out both Barb and Mindy called looking for the other ladies, who were registered under Michelle K�s name, but did not arrive until 11 p.m. because of an unscheduled (sing it!) three-hour tour ... a three-hour tour ... through the lakeside town of Winnetka via Chicago�s own North Milwaukee Ave. Had I called, it would�ve made three queries within a 20- or 30-minute span looking for a guest named "K."

Unable to sleep, I woke up Friday at 8 a.m. and didn�t fight it. A little after 10:30, I tried the desk again and they connected me to Michelle K�s room, where Courtenay answered. Mindy called up shortly after that, and I went downstairs to say hello to Barb and Courtenay before the three women left to do, as both Mindy and Courtenay labeled it in e-mails the week before, �wedding stuff.� On the way upstairs, I went to Michelle� Ks room, but got no response to my knock. Walking down a floor, I heard a rap on my door before I turned the corner. It was, of course, Michelle K.

We decided to see what all the dinosaur hype was about, and headed downtown to the Field Museum. Parking nearly back at McCormick Place, we walked past Soldier Field and to the museum, which was teeming with families on vacation and kids from camps.

The Field Museum cast aside anticipation and put �Sue,� the most complete and largest Tyrannosaurus rex fossil ever discovered, in the opening hall.

Scientists have no idea whether �Sue� was a male or female T. rex; she�s named after the paleontologist who discovered her in western Montana in 1991. In any sex, Sue turned out to be disappointing. I thought she�d be bigger. For all the hype about the world�s biggest T. rex find, I was expecting more. Maybe putting her in Stanley Field Hall at the museum where she stooped down close to the juxtaposed her poorly with her surroundings. An up close look at her skull on the second floor (it�s so heavy, a cast replaces it in the actual skeleton display) did provide a better image. It�s five feet long, and I easily could�ve curled up inside it. Walking through other exhibits, we came across a brontosaurus skeleton, which is more of what I expected in terms of size. Back in the era, the T. rex was considerably smaller � and faster.

One of Chicago�s own makes its mark unmistakably at the Field Museum. Lunch choices are restricted to two: the bakery cafe with its limited menu just off the main hall, or McDonald�s in the basement. There�s only one place the parents will take the kids, or the kids will accept.

We walked into McDonald�s and immediately left, since we could not even distinguish the lines to the registers during the noon hour rush. Walking around on empty stomachs for an hour, Michelle K. and I staggered, dazed � at least I did � through the Egyptian display and returned to considerably shorter lines, but not particularly fast service. Though for the volume of customers the place gets on a summer Friday, it was the best-run McDonald�s in history as far as I�m concerned. They regularly refilled ice in the self-serve soda fountains and corrected mistakes and expedited delayed orders in such a satisfactory fashion that I heard not one customer complain.

After lunch, we walked through life. An exhibit on Earth�s origins took us from the very beginnings of cell life on the planet up to some point in time where we got bored and went off elsewhere. First, we saw the hazy orange sky of post-creation, with a poisonous atmosphere and green oceans. As things cooled down, the ocean and sky turned blue and cells developed, making conditions better on the planet. Then, as the recorded woman�s voice put it, �someone invents sex.� Actually she said something along the lines of, �until someone invents sex ...� but I missed the rest because I was wondering how that might have happened. (GUY: �Hey now! That�s never happened before! Now what does it do?� GIRL: �Maybe it goes in here.�) Someone apparently figured it out, because in the next room was a doorway marked �SEX.� There was no door, only a curtain. Maybe beads would�ve been more appropriate. I expected neon lights with �25 cents� and �XXX� to surround it. Unfortunately, we could not find out what was in there � or what went on in there � because the area had been cordoned off with yellow caution tape. Maybe it was the scene of a sex crime. We�ll have to find out how sex was invented another time.

In various other displays, Michelle K. and I ...

� Discovered that Koosh balls are one of the earliest organic creatures on the planet (they were in drawer identifying them as part of the phylum Entoprocta, or �tentacle-stalked animals.� They are not extinct).

� At the �Wheels Of Adaptation,� Michelle K. developed an air-breathing lung, which was a good thing for her. I don�t know how she got by up �til then.

� We were also shocked to learn in a display entitled �What makes animals different from plants or fungi?� that, and this is a direct quotation (I have pictures to prove it), �Animals don�t make they own food ...� Yo, yo, but they do kick it wit dey homies in da crib, foo. They need copy editors at the museum.

� �Dating Tips For Rocks� did not include �Be yourself� or �Compliment her on her shoes.� I don�t know how rocks get by; must have good pickup lines. (�Hey! Down here! I�m shiny!�)

Back in the car, we decided to go back to the hotel to rest up a little before the evening. I wanted to ride along Lake Shore Drive like I always do when visiting Chicago, but since the traffic was too heavy late in the afternoon (on a Friday, duh), we followed a sign for 90/94. Only we missed the next sign, and headed north on State St. After crossing Wacker Dr. (�Ow!� Michelle said when wacked), we went west on another road. Just when we started getting into some sketchy neighborhoods, we found N. Milwaukee � not our N. Milwaukee, but good enough to get us onto the expressway. Not being from Chicago, I refuse to call them by their honorary names � Kennedy, Evans, Dan Ryan, etc. Stop trying to keep the visitors in the dark, Chicago!

After mindless TV like �The Simpsons,� we stopped at Friday�s for salads and such. We actually got carded at the bar. All Friday�s restaurants have the same decor and whatnot, but this one�s layout was an exact replica of the local branch near my home in New Jersey. Crazy, I tell you.

I was supposed to pick Mia up at the airport around 8:30, but her travel plans were altered because of storms back east, so I did not have to get to O�Hare until the next afternoon.

Michelle came along on my trip back to the city. For three years, I�ve wanted to set my camera up on the peninsula down by the Shedd Aquarium where the Adler Planetarium sits. It was a pleasant, comfortable night, and a lot of people walked or sat along the lake. Glittering in the night, the city looked perfect, as I�d pictured it in my mind and seen in other photographs. I hoped I could create some of my own. I�ll only tell you now that I did; you�ll see what I mean when I send you some copies. The Spirit of Chicago tried to intrude on one 30-second exposure, but my shutter closed just before the party ship drifted into view. I finished up just after the fireworks off Navy Pier concluded, and Michelle and I returned to the hotel to meet up with the wedding party and others in the bar.

At the bar, Mindy�s first words to me were, �I need a key.� I�d mentioned the same thing to Michelle earlier in the day, but there was no way to get her one then. Mindy had stopped in, dropped off her things, and left again, neither of us thinking about room keys. Seated around several tables pushed together, we talked and drank and caught up with various people who made it in for the wedding, many I knew, some I didn�t, and others I just hadn�t seen in two years. As some started to head to bed, the numbers dwindled until I remained with Mike, Tanner, Noah, Tony and Matt. At one point, a detailed discussion of �Star Wars� began (it was bound to happen). Since I couldn�t contribute on any intelligent level, I went to the bathroom, a walk halfway down the hall toward the lobby. When I returned, the topic of conversation had not changed. Unfortunately, I don�t remember what else was discussed, because I do remember it being worthwhile chatter until we were the last to leave the bar at 2 a.m. Those damn Old Styles clouded up my memory with their hops and barleys.

Stumbling back into the room, I was unable to keep my arrival quiet, and I turned around at one point to see Mindy sitting up in her bed. �Sorry,� I said. I think she said it was OK; that or �OK, bastard.� In any case, as tired as we were, we laid in bed talking until 3:30. Those things happen when you haven�t seen someone in 13 months.

THE WEDDING DAY (NOT YOURS)

The next morning, Mindy left for the Final Preparations � which, if this wedding was anything like my friend Amy�s in June from which she just sent me pre-ceremony photos, included sitting around the dining room table for a while, all dressed in gowns, talking. �The Natural� on HBO kept me from getting in the shower and I watched the last hour, teary-eyed at the end as usual. Then I headed to O�Hare to find Mia.

The drive to the airport was an uneventful 20 minutes � nothing like the three-hour exodus Michelle and Courtenay experienced. I parked and went inside, not sure if Mia�s plane had landed yet. Short delays pushed the arrival back to 12:34 or thereabouts, and I saw her plane pull up to the gate. Before leaving the airport, we looked on the screen for the arrival of a �LaGwadia� flight. The night before, Tony had said Tim�s plane was due in about the same time as Mia�s. Finding Tony and Griff one gate over, they said the flight number Tim gave them � 647 � wasn�t the same as the inbound flight from LaGwadia � 687. Mia�s flight from Newark was 647. �That would be just like Tim,� Tony said.

Mia and I waited as the passengers from 687 began to deplane while Tony and Griff went to see if Tim was with those who got off Mia�s flight. He was, seated toward the back, where she hadn�t seen him from her seat in row 9. �I didn�t see him,� she said, �but I also didn�t know to look for him.� Back at the hotel at 1:40, we snacked on McDonald�s fries to hold us over until dinner and dressed for the wedding.

At the church, walking in through a side door put us immediately in the sanctuary, so Mia and I walked around to the lobby in the back. We saw Michelle, Jen, Bounce (who is this �Brian� people kept referring to?) and Cande standing outside and went out to join them. Just as I came through the door, I saw Barb and her bridesmaids heading toward me, leaving me in the position to hold the door open for the bride as she entered the church on her wedding day. That�s got to mean something, right?

Noticing Joe and Faye (I hope that�s the spelling) seated in the church, we went and took the pew behind them. Nobody was at the altar. Then a door opened stage left, and the groomsmen emerged, with Mike taking up the rear. They walked in a line around the back of the church, to the groom�s side of the altar. Their gait had a rhythm and uniformity to it that made me wonder if they were going to break out into a musical number to get things started. I could hear Barry White in my mind. Looking back on it now � and I�m glad this thought didn�t come to me in the church � it almost looked like a scene from �The Full Monty.�

�Ave Maria� and �Canon In D� highlighted the procession, which included a bunch of pretty ladies walking halfway down the aisle, where they were each met by a dapper-looking gent for the rest of the walk. The flashbulbs were like fireworks, a few here, some there. When Barb emerged to walk down the aisle, the flash show reached its climax, with cameras shooting off like the end of an Independence Day pyrotechnic display, with all the oohs and aahs to go along with it.

Then things slowed down. I�ve always had trouble in churches. Any church. All churches, all denominations. For as long as I can remember, once I settle myself into the pews, I cannot stay awake. All I want to do is close my eyes and put my chin on my chest. Homilies and sermons do me in right away, and I can�t remember the last time I made it through the Lord�s Prayer without yawning right in the middle of �and forgive us our trespasses� so that it comes out, in my mumble, as �and forgive us our tress ... (auh) ... passes.� In college, the informal floor setting of Breen Phillips dorm masses was enough to keep me more alert than I normally am. I suppose the evening hour of the masses � rather than morning � and relaxed attire � sweats and socks rather than slacks and suits � helped there. And though I�ve never doubted the existence of God, I am less inspired by the preaching and readings in organized worship than I am by the awesome spectacle of early morning light on the Grand Canyon or a billion billion stars in the Maine sky. I am, though, moved by the amazing power that makes so many people through so many centuries believe, with no deeper evidence than a thick book with tiny typeface on tissue-thin pages. But that�s just me.

Had I known there would be a cameraman at the wedding videotaping the ceremony, I would have been more prepared. He panned the guests every now and then, and a simple marker and sheet of paper could�ve added a few laughs for Barb and Mike when they watched the tape. I thought of writing �Hi Guys" or �Go Irish!� on the back of my program, but there was not a blank page and I wasn�t going to put graffiti on my memento. �John 3:16� would�ve fit better in church than the end zone at Soldier Field. �Mom, send money!� was Jen�s suggestion. (I did just notice that the lyric sheet with the words to �The Servant Song� and �Notre Dame Our Mother� was blank on the back. Oh well.)

The video guy was at the reception as well, and I wondered if this would be a Bunim-Murray �Real World� wedding, if we�d all have to go into the confessional to talk about how we were getting along with our tablemates or vote someone from the wedding party during the reception. Neither happened, but it would�ve been amusing to pull the camera aside and recount that story about when Barb and I were really drunk one night ... Or that one dream I had about Mike ...

While pictures were taken in the church, the rest of us caught up and chatted about ... stuff. It was catch-up stuff. �What are you doing? ... How�s that working out for you? ... Heading out my way any time soon? ...

Outside in the brilliant sunlight, we waited for the newlyweds to emerge from the church. The doors were held open, and people lined a path down the sidewalk to the limousine. I�ve never seen the environmentally-correct soap-bubble church exit work as well as it did that day. Enthusiastic well-wishers blew consistently, keeping the path filled with bubbles. The photographer shot set up several shots of the couple just inside the doors, then took his position outside and allowed them to leave. With my camera on automatic, I held the release down and fired of eight shots as they passed. As they reached the limo, the crowd closed in behind them, a flock of paparazzi clicking away.

Then we high-tailed it back to the hotel to catch the shuttle to the reception.