Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Conclusion to Chi Town Wedding

I walk up to the open bar and ask the bartender for a stiff one and he responds "can I see ID?" I giggle and say "Okay seriously I will have a double grey goose vodka martini shaken not stirred and make it fast." He looks at me with this blank stare and repeats it again..."Can I see your ID?" By this time, I was ready to start dipping a straw into the vodka bottle. So I explain to him in my ever so sarcastic voice that no one with half a brain brings an ID to a wedding. I am not at a bar or a club, I am at a wedding. A wedding where I just dropped $300 into the money box and squeezed my mashed potato butt into a tight black dress, and a wedding where my Midwestern cooked in the sun without a bathroom break for 4 hours, and a wedding where I had 30 children running around my feet screaming and making noise. At this point I need a drink so badly, the bartender should just start breaking out the funnel. I storm off, tell the groom the problem but the bartender still refuses. Luckily one of the groomsmen bought me a drink, but the rest of the evening I had to ask someone to get me drinks. So I figure dinner is about to be served it can only get better - right? Wrong! I sit down to a Pork and Veal dinner. Who in the world makes a wedding with only 2 choices, baby cow and pig? I meal at least throw some fish or veggie options. Well I was not too concerned because the bride assured me that she ordered my meal in advance. I tell the waiter I am part of the vegetarian crowd and he nods and walks away. I am so excited that my mouth is watering. He returns with a plate of arugula, 2 pieces of asparagus and a mushroom on top for decor. At this point, I am convinced this is the salad. Oh silly me!!! it was the damn entree. Now I am trying to figure out if I can some how grab my tweezers to grab the envelope back out of the money box and take back my gift to the lovely couple so I can buy myself a slice of pizza down the block. The Midwestern trying to make lemonade out of lemons asks the waiter for a plate of polenta. He brings over a side of polenta and I ate it with half a loaf of bread because I was so hungry I could have started eating my purse if it were not synthetic. I wish I could tell you I was too drunk to care or that the music was so good I was too busy dancing and that all of these mistakes meant nothing in the scheme of things. But as I listened to the temptations and other horrible old music from my parents generation. I sat around making more mental notes..."My humps", "Soldier Boy", "Gold digger". So no, I will not have centerpieces the size of a small child, and the midwestern will not wear a $800 tux and my groomsmen will not all wear stupid patent leather rental shoes(oh wait what groomsmen??)and $150 Armani ties, nor will I have ice sculptures of the Louvre in Paris. Instead, the Midwestern will wear his hot new Cole Haan's with his Jones New York Tux and Gold Italian silk tie we bought on Wall Street. And the only flowers will be petals on the table and our music may be filled with inappropriate mix of rock, alternative, pop, hip hop, salsa and reggae. But who cares

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