Whoever gets the vodka will wear the trousers in the marriage. She was dead keen and talked him in to it. They asked me to prepare the glasses and offer the drinks during the reception. It seemed like a good idea at first. We’ll have to explain it to everyone, I said. Neither family was Polish and nor were any of the guests.
—-Brindley Hallam Dennis, Hitch
There is the wedding toast – actually, one of the few wedding traditions that I approve of. But even that can, if taken too seriously, spin out of control.
I remember once staying at some chain hotel along the Interstate in some God-forsaken East Texas oil town where I was working for a few days cleaning up a pipeline spill. When I came back to the hotel from a long day searching out and picking up wayward crude, exhausted, there was a wedding reception going on – the party was in full bloom. The bride and groom were good looking but frighteningly young.
When I passed down the corridor the (child) bride was collapsed in hysterics weeping – still in her vast cloud of a wedding dress. Her maids of honor surrounded her in their hideous matching dresses trying to calm her down. I went into the men’s room for a quick piss and discovered the tuxedo-ed groom – as much of a kid as his bride, violently drunk and fiercely puking all over the place. His grooms were trying to get him under control but mostly managing only to despoil their rented rainments.
As I trudged back to my lonely hotel room all I could think about was how sad I was at witnessing this handsome doomed young couple.
Read it here:
Hitch by Brindley Hallam Dennis
from Bhdandme’s Blog