Posts Tagged ‘weddings’

That’s how you do it

Monday, August 16th, 2010

Went to a cousin’s wedding this weekend in the true north. When you’ve got “dozens of cousins”, as the bride likes to say, never mind dozens of aunts and uncles, there’s only one way to do it:

  • Dress-up optional at the ceremony and dress-down mandatory at the reception.
  • Have the “I Do” part take 10 minutes and the eat and celebrate part take 12 hours.
  • BYOB and pot luck. There was enough food to feed dozens for days, and no one could complain that there weren’t enough options. At what other wedding could one get swedish meatballs, butterscotch squares, homemade chili and watermelon?
  • Have the great aunt do shots from a used bagpipe bladder then set her loose on the dance floor.
  • Play Johnny Cash, immediately followed by Biggie.
  • Bring the wedding party to the reception area via a pontoon boat on the river. Make them scurry to the back of the boat so as not to ground it on the shore.
  • Have the wedding part do boat races for halftime entertainment (the drinking kind, not the boating kind).
  • Have people bring tents that are pitched about 40 feet from the party tent. Easy lurching distance.
  • Have no bears attend the reception, or the pot luck table.

Huzzah!

Monday, August 25th, 2008

The bride was beautiful, the groom was gracious and the guests were drunk.

Melle and I made it to the ceremony just in time. We were in the non-Catholic crowd so we just went along with it when they stood up and sat down and stood up and sat down. The priest was an elderly German fellow who apparently like some of the lyrics to the hymns because every once in a while, he’d start singing along with the real singer (who was fabulous btw).

Because the ceremony was at 11am and the reception didn’t start until 5pm, we went out for lunch with K and her husband by our “luxury” hotel. Pizza and a daiquiri – yum. I’m pretty sure that L was worrying that he was in for a long night of diva talk and hanging out with the “girls”, but we started to gel over the food and my impending visit from one of my northern uncles who is bringing his chainsaw and has requested that I stock up on vodka… and this is to do some “plumbing”.

Melle and I availed ourselves of the big bed and soft headboard for a nap, only after taking pictures of our marble spa bathroom.

Then Melle got herself into some German engineered super-bra that was required to ensure that the girls didn’t migrate out of the diva dress was wearing, and I got into some spanx kind of gitch and tried to rein in the ringlets.

All four of us stuffed ourselves into a rather tiny cab at the same time that the Blue Jays game was getting out. L is a big guy who was sporting a wool suit (he looked awesome) and we were going about 10 feet a minute, and it was hot. After ranting about “being in the only cab in Toronto with A/C” and comparing how far the sweat had migrated down our butt-cracks, the driver finally clued in and put it on, which improved things considerably.

Until we got to the venue. It was a rowing club with a nice big balcony overlooking the lake, but there was no A/C and it was about 30 degrees, so we were all a bit melty for the first little bit. But bride Helen, who is very smart, had fans handed out to the guests as they arrived. Even the guys were doing their best Karl Lagerfeld.

The good thing is that it started to cool down as soon as the sun moved over, and the food was awesome, and the speeches went really well – there were some awesome things said in German, which we didn’t understand, so we just kept on toasting.

Bride and groom were really pleased to welcome people from all over the place, too. They both like to travel, so I’m sure they were taking names for places that they will be visiting in the near future. And the parents were adorable and proud and happy. It was an Irish-German-Spanish love-in.

And that led to all kinds of shenanigans. I was doing okay after the champagne and wine with rye and water, Melle and the others had moved on to gin, but then L and I got talking and we decided that it was really important that we have some scotch. Good scotch. After unsuccessfully trying to convince the bar staff that we should be able to pay for a bottle, I brought out the big guns: the bride.

One nod from her and I was perusing the scotch list and waving L’s credit card and lining up a few glasses. I was greeted with high fives on the patio, let me tell you. I’m waiting to see just how much a bottle of 12-year Bowmore costs at retail :) While I proceeded to tuck into about 5 of those, Melle got it into her head that it would be good to drink vodka and Red Bull. Then there was dancing and we got to hang out with the bride and groom a bit and I think I grinded a random gf of one of the guests. C showed up somewhere in there and we read her the riot act since we haven’t seen her in person for over a year – but I think she’ll mend her ways.

There was some German folk dancing and Irish jigging and an unplanned undie-flash (not me). Lots of smiling faces and people talking and all of the good stuff that goes along with a really great party.

We got up the next morning and were planning to go to Cora’s across the street for some much-needed grease, but the line-up was out the door, so we ended up eating at the posh-posh restaurant in the hotel. It was a kind of buffet, from which I could only manage a few strips of bacon, some fruit and a small muffin. Actual cost: enough to buy the farm on which the fruit was grown and a pig.

Drive home was uneventful and rather quiet (and Melle drove and she’s a goddess). It is a truism that there is such a thing as too many ryes and scotches, and a very definite thing that vodka and Red Bull is not a recommended source of vitamins. And old chicks like us? We need time to recover. We were emailing each other today with ratings on the tired scale – can’t remember my login, nodding off in a meeting, unable to competently articulate words longer than 3 syllables…

Bride and groom are now in Hawaii, and I certainly hope they’re sleeping.

There’s traditions, and then there’s traditions

Friday, August 22nd, 2008

I don’t believe that I will be nekkid after tomorrow’s wedding. But there was a real ‘streak’ there in the 90s when this became the only appropriate ending to nuptials in my circle.  Sure we had been playing strip euchre for a few years in our small group, but when we were invited back to a co-workers house after my roommate got married, and that house had a pool, we knew it was time to go to the next level.

The group gathered at the pool was a motley mix of university friends, wedding party members, straights, gays and significant others. I’m not sure if I was the first one to start the stripping, but I do remember getting a friend to pull my bridesmaid dress off from the bottom up, so to speak, while I was bent over so that my derriere was facing a group of men drinking beer on the patio. I flung the dress into the bushes and then dove into the pool. Soon there were nekkid people floating around in old tires and floaty chairs and I think someone was wearing nothing but a pool noodle.

Forward to the next wedding (just so happened to be the girl that helped me remove my apparel at the first one). Huge catholic family with the ceremony to go with it. Many had flown in from Northwest Territories and they were all staying at this hotel on the outskirts of town on the corner of a busy road going east-west and the main road north out of town. The pool at this hotel was situated on the outside corner of the parking lot, so cars going in both directions could eyeball the swimmers if they chose to. After the reception, we made a beeline to that pool like we were on a mission. I don’t know if it was the intimidation of a public viewing or the possible censure of 28 roman catholics from the far north, but only a brave four of us were up to the challenge. One of my best friends, his gf, and a teacher friend of ours.

In our drunken troll logic, we conceived of the idea that it would be good to disrobe in behind the main building and leave our clothing there, streak across the lot, jump the fence and then dive in. It was 3 o’clock in the morning or so, so all we’d run into were possibly the relatives…

Mission into the pool was no problem. We had several northern uncles leaning on the fence trying to carry on a conversation while not looking at the bits on display. But then one of the aunts got wind of the entertainment and called the manager, who proceeded to try to chase us from the pool with a broom. So we’re doggy paddling in the middle and dude is banging a broom along the side of the pool like we were a wildlife specimen who happened upon this thing that looked like a cement pond and decided to go for a swim.

When that didn’t work, the manager called the cops. Thing is, if the teacher friend got caught sans gitch, then he’d need to be calling a union rep because he’d be facing teacherly laws regarding public indecency or something, so we knew we had to move.

Now, jumping naked out of pool while being chased by a hotel manager with a broom, and hopping a fence with a cruiser barreling into the parking lot with lights and navigating to the back of the hotel while dodging 28 roman catholics from NWT AND putting on your underwear, all while thinking with the logic of a drunken troll is a bit of an art.

I got caught up trying to get a leg in a leghole and did a faceplant onto some asphalt. At that point, survival instinct kicked in so I threw on the dress and sprinted to the road with undies in hand. The couple went one way and teacher guy followed me. At this point, he was wearing his underwear and an open dress shirt, carrying his tie & pants and shoes.

I looked up and saw an 18-wheeler bearing down on us from the north. I stuck out my thumb (I might have waved my underwear, but we don’t have the replay to know for sure). And dude picked us up! Drove us right downtown where we passed out blissfully “as we were”. We were relieved to find out the next day that the other two got away from the fuzz, too.

So that was the third time I almost got arrested. Weddings – what can you do?