Last evening began with a few friends having drinks after work and ended up with my deciding where I want to have my wedding. The events that occured in the middle were rather...unusual.

My girlfriend and I were meeting a work buddy at a place on the Great South Bay, The Fat Fish, for a weekend kickoff. He was bringing a friend of his who happens to be a real estate developer with a few million in the bank. A large and handsome man of about 50, he put me in mind of Paul Sorvino. And he had the whitest teeth I have ever seen.

It was a perfect afternoon. Eighty degrees and sunny with a light breeze coming off the bay, boats sailing in and out of the marina and the lighthearted company of great friends. As we sat down to have dinner, the conversation turned to the millionaire's social obligation later that evening. At 7pm, he was to attend the politcal dinner for one of our congressmen at a reception hall about five minutes away.

The three of us looked at each other knowingly, reading each other's minds, and then looked back at the millionaire. He knew what we wanted. "Of course I can get you guys in", he said with a sip of his Grey Goose on the rocks. I couldn't tell if he was being generous or pompous.

So off we went in his white Excursion to La Grange Inn. It was shockingly easy to gain entrance to the affair. Despite the fact that my friends were obviously not dressed for an evening of hobnobbing, nobody stopped us. I, on the other hand, looked a bit like Kate Moss in my white, knee-length sundress, black leggings, black boots and obscene amount of gold trinket-like accessories. Bottom line was that the three of us were sticking out like sore thumbs at the tightly wound Republican event.

We made certain to take full advantage of the open bar, did a once around, pretended to have a fabulous conversation with each other and decided maybe we'd be better off if we strolled out and plopped ourselves at the bar. To our delight, a DJ was playing swing music and apparently the bartender assumed we were "friends" of the congressman because we didn't pay for a darn thing.

There was a lone couple on the dance floor who clung so tightly to each other it appeared that they would fall if either one of them let go. They looked to be in their mid-seventies. When they finally sat down, we began talking to them. They have been married for fifty four years. And still go out dancing. I love the little things you learn about people if you aren't afraid to ask.

I decided it might be a good idea to actually dart back to the other room and see what was going on at this event, thinking I might learn something. But it was just a bunch of clapping and name throwing. It turns out I was standing behind the Town Clerk who was waiting to give a speech. I leaned over her shoulder to try and read what was on her index card but I couldn't quite see it and I didn't want to accidentally bump into her and knock her over because then I would have created a scene and I wasn't even supposed to be there and everyone would have looked. It would have been so "Three's Company".

Plus, I was far more interested in the fact that she was wearing a purple and red tweed suit with white - yes white - pantyhose. You remember that I stated it was eighty degrees out. Why the pantyhose? Why were they WHITE? This inspired me to look around the room at what the women were wearing. I swear it was as if they took their fashion ideas from the Queen Mum. Rumpled suits, horn-rimmed glasses, loafers. And they were ALL wearing pantyhose. I decided that the other room was more fun.

When I got back, the DJ was playing "Copacabana" so obviously, the bar was exponentially better than the banquet. Even though they had cheese at the banquet. A little while later, millionaire comes swaggering back in and we make a choice about what will be the third and final destination of the evening.

We decided that The Gatsby would be a suitable nightcap. From its name, you can guess what type of place it is. A 1920s inspired mansion that is now used as a restaurant and for weddings. I had never been there. But it was love at first sight. Not only is The Great Gatsby one of my favorite pieces of literature and I could talk for hours about its importance on the shape of American culture, but I am obsessed with any and all things associated with the Jazz Age. Silent movies, flappers, bootlegging, you name it - I'm in love with it.

So I took myself on a personal tour of the house sans tour guide. I doubt people are allowed to do this but I felt oddly transfixed by the place and honestly, I thought an employee showing me around would have been a hinderance to my curiosity. I walked up the wide staircase and meandered from room to room taking in every detail I could. I sat on every chair, I looked out every window, I opened every door. The walls were covered in wainscotting and art deco paintings of glamorous looking women. Everything was accented in red and gold. Each room is now set up to be used as a dining room. It looks as if Jay Gatsby himself might be throwing one of his opulent affairs at any moment.

Then I found another staircase that led to a third floor. It was in complete darkness but I ascended it anyway. When I reached the top, I discovered two doors - one directly in front of me and one to my right at the end of the hallway. Everything in the mansion had that musty, old house smell - it reminded me of going on field trips when I was a child.

I opened the door in front of me and could not see what was in the room because of the complete lack of light. I stuck my head in hoping that maybe my eyes would adjust but not even a slice of light from a streetlamp outside was penetrating the room. I closed the door and noticed that there was a switch on the wall to my left. I flicked it on and light flooded the hallway. I walked to the other end and pulled open the second door. An attic. It was empty except for some rolled up wires and two fuse boxes. I closed the door and went back to the other room.

I reached for the doorknob with a new excitement at the thought of what I would discover. But as my hand tried to turn, a nervous shock went through me. It was locked. I stared at it in disbelief. I had opened it less than a minute before. And I was the only person in the hallway. Upon closer examination, I discovered that the knob locks from the inside and has to be unlocked from the hallway with a key. I just stood and stared at it. Then, as I had made up my mind that I was completely in love with this house, I turned the light back off and quietly went downstairs again.

The whole way back downstairs, I stopped to inform staff members and strangers that I would be having my wedding there. I was met with many congratulations and questions about when the wedding is. Of course, then I had to tell them that I have to find a boyfriend first. But the best part came a few minutes later. A woman was leaving and saw me at the bar. She was with the rest of her party and waved at me and said to the others "Look! There's the bride with no groom!". I could have let it depress me but instead it made me ecstatic because that was the first time in my life somebody called me a bride. And remember I was wearing a white dress, too.

An incredibly strange, undeniably interesting series of events for what started out as a typical Friday night. Very interesting indeed...