First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage

The new Mr. and Mrs., their I Dos said, began the long parade down the aisle and onto the steps of the church. Here at least one groomsman broke rank and lit up an evidently much-craved Marlboro and opened a beer he must have concealed in his cummerbund or in one of the planters by the columns outside the church. Drunk Bus indeed.

The bridal party went off to smile and say “cheese” and J. had a little time to kill. He called me while I wended my way to my college town, the kids in tow, anticipating a great stay in the quaint little town I’d called home for 4 years. The ceremony over, the worst was about to begin. At least he had arranged to spend the night at the hotel where the reception was planned – right there on the flight path of the European departures. Perhaps the jet fuel fumes would help him sleep…and at least he had an escape hatch if the squealing and gaiety got to be too much. Again.

Check in at the hotel was madness. J. was in line next to his mother and sister – and in front of an out-of-town bridesmaid, holding her luggage and a baby that appeared to be closing in on his first birthday. Gurgling, cooing, smiling. J.’s Mom remarked “What are you doing to do with the baby during the reception, dear?” The “THIS IS A NO-KID WEDDING” neon sign flashing in the thought bubble above her wash and set head with all the subtlety of a search light.

Or so it seemed.

The young mother sportingly replied “Oh, we’ll be fine. Ralph is here and he’ll be up in the room with him so I can do my bridesmaid thing.”

To which Endora replied, incredulously, with a sentence that began with the words, “Well, if he wants to come and join the party, there’s no reason to alternate, I’m sure no one will mind…”

And with that, J. spun around looking like the possessed kid from the Exorcist, sans pea soup. His turn to give the “Oh no you won’t!” look. Endora got the point and trailed off like Aunt Clara with her baffling and hilarious verbal amnesia. (http://www.tv.com/bewitched/show/140/cast.html)


J. privately swore that if so much as one kid appeared at the reception wearing anything other than a pint-sized tuxedo or the mandated raspberry sherbet frock, he’d be having words with his still blubbering sister.

He checked in and went to his room – far, far from the block – and waited for the starting gun for the games to begin. He’d be seated at the Dirty Dancing table, so noted by a picture of Baby and Johnny.

How ironic. Nobody puts Baby in a corner. No, we just let her trample on and insult everyone in her life on the road to matrimony, and send her parents to the poorhouse. Maybe someone should have considered putting Baby in a corner two years ago.