An exercise in excess

After removing the fancy invitation from three envelopes and getting only one paper cut, I read . . .

Mr. and Mrs. ____ Request the Honour of Your Presence at the Marriage of Their Daughter

(I was too embarrassed to write back to tell them they spelled "honor" wrong.)

As I fumbled with the ecru colored card, my index finger awkwardly held outward, I tried not to get blood on the tiny satin rose and bow carefully affixed to the card. Through the pain of the nasty cut I smiled. The son of one of my dearest friends was getting married and I was invited. I was excited at the prospect of getting to see my old friend and his wife again. They are a special couple and perhaps I'll tell you their story in a later installment.

So . . . if you had lots of money and wanted to have a big wedding for your only daughter what would you do? I’m not sure what I would do since we were always on a shoe string. This weekend I found out what at least one family would do and that was drop what had to be $30,000 to $40,000 on maybe 150 people. It was an unbelievable affair. But, just because one has money doesn’t mean that the event will be first class. Anyway, that was my take on it.

Maybe I’m just “out of it” and I’m not hip to current trends, but, I still like the old traditions that make weddings such classic ceremonies. Being Catholic I was weaned on ceremony and ritual. This wedding had little of the former and none of the latter. First of all, the ushers didn’t usher. And, since I am so untrained in social etiquette, I ended up seating myself on the bride’s side. OK, I should have remembered that the groom is on the right but I didn’t know there was going to be a test, so I turned off my brain for the day. I expected that a young tuxedoed man would gracefully show this gray-beard where to sit, nope, that didn’t happen and I plopped myself down on the left side in one of the rows of shaky plastic folding chairs that were lined up with military precision on the manicured grass.

It was obvious that the bride came from money. The country club we were at was beautiful and was nestled between steep hills on all sides. I can’t really call them mountains but they did rise a couple hundred feet above the lake. There was a very exclusive community of homes carefully hidden in the trees around the lake. I’m sure the list of rules and regulations governing home building in this area was a phonebook thick. After I got home I looked at the area on a satellite photo from Google Maps and was surprised to see the lake was surrounded by about 25 or so homes. I remember seeing two. Having said that, the club did not reek of class. The walkway leading to the white vinyl arch where the ceremony was to be held was patterned cement dyed stone gray. It was handsome enough, but I just thought they should have used real stone. The arch, actually a rose trellis that you can buy at Home Depot, was scantly decorated with artificial flowers; some of which seemed to have been used before since they had a slightly faded appearance. Maybe they were an afterthought and were attached in haste shortly before the guests arrived.

I sat looking at the mirrored lake in front of me and listened as the balding, gray-haired man at the keyboard played background music at a tempo that made a dirge sound like rap music. I was soaking in the ambiance and wondering if I was the only one seated on the wrong side. I took solace in the fact that the social faux pas police were off today since they would have surly cited the ushers for not ushering me to the correct side in the first place. I was innocent and that was what would be my plea.

The ceremony was officiated by a Humanist Celebrant. He was the Humanist Chaplain at Rutgers University. I’m not sure exactly what all that means other than there was no particular religion represented, no reference made to Christ, or Budda, or Mohammad or any other particular deity, although he did mention God. Rather, he called on everyone to bring whatever philosophy they believed in to the ceremony. The rest of his words were very meaningful and I would give him an A-. There were more traditional parts to the service as it neared the end with the exchange of vows and giving of rings.

There was no receiving line and no throwing rice or birdseed or blowing bubbles or releasing butterflies or balloons. The bridal party simply walked from the place of the ceremony to the edge of the lake for pictures. As a matter of fact, I never met the bride or the groom (my friend's son). The rest of us adjourned to the rear to start an afternoon/evening of excess. First of all, there was an open bar – make that three bars – and when I say open I mean open! Anything you wanted was fair game. Throughout the day I had wine, beer, champagne, scotch and some B&B in my coffee after dinner. There were various food stations open right after the ceremony ended: cheeses, roasted veggies, hand-carved roast beef and lamb, different types of pasta, shrimp and chicken stir fry as well as tacos and fajitas. I followed the crowd and got in line, until I woke up. I wasn’t hungry, why was I standing in line like so many lemmings following the leader. I jumped out of line and walked along the 100’ of food tables, I stopped and asked the server at the pasta station, who was temporarily idle, if this was the meal or “just” hors d'oeuvres. I was told the actual meal was later. After about 45 minutes of talking and watching others grazing I decided to get a shrimp stir fry to “hold me over”.

We were finally called into the dining hall for a slide show and introduction of all the bridal party – like I really cared that the third usher dressed like a cowboy when he was four. Maybe if he would have seated me on the correct side I would have been more interested. In addition to the champagne for the toast, each table had a bottle of red and a bottle of white (sounds like a Billy Joel tune coming). I stayed away from those since by this time I was drinking scotch. The main course was fillet (med rare) and butterflied shrimp in butter-garlic sauce. Everything tasted great. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the toast, given by the best man, my friend's younger son. It may have been one of the best I ever heard. It was warm and heartfelt yet interjected with tasteful humor. Bravo!

About the time they were cutting the cake the staff put out a dessert table with maybe 15 different types of sweet dishes. Everything from chocolate cake to cannoli. So, I had a selection from that table, a coffee with the aforementioned B&B, and then topped it off with the wedding cake. The rest of the evening was spent talking, joking, and dancing. Oh, by the way, they had a real band, no DJ here. There were two singers, trumpet, sax, keyboard, drums, bass and lead guitar, an eight piece band. They were a talented group and played an eclectic mix of music. Thankfully we did not have to endure the Chicken Dance, Macarena, or the Electric Slide. At 9:30 the band played their last number. That meant I was there for six hours and the reception lasted five and a half hours! I was ready to go back to my hotel by that time.

The food available would have been enough to feed an African village for a week. I wondered how much was wasted by people that thought they had to take it since it was available. The food was excessive and completely unneeded since very few people looked like they had gone hungry recently. Especially the five by five twenty-something that wore the black V-neck dress that plunged to her waist, her DD’s sticking out only slightly farther than her abdomen. I’m a red-blooded male, but, like the food, other things were excessive too and were a complete turn off.

Thanks for reading me,

Don