When all the elements are correctly balanced, weddings can be magical affairs that are impervious to the ravages of time and human failure.
Your marriage may crash and burn after two weeks, but a perfect wedding plan executed in just the right way will become a golden memory that nothing can tarnish.
People love weddings and why shouldn’t they?
- Weddings are a bride in a gorgeous, ridiculously over-priced gown that makes every other woman present – especially the bridesmaids – feel like a lecherous whore.
- Weddings are delicious foods like swine in a blanket all laid out for you to devour.
- Weddings are champagne.
- Weddings are green with envy, ridiculously-horny bridesmaids who need to hook up with pretty much anyone in order to stifle their inner demons that run loose during their friend’s perfect day.
In short, weddings rule.
Of course, all of this means nothing if you’re on the other side of the equation. Then weddings are weeks of planning that changes every five seconds and one full, seemingly-endless day of crap on a cracker.
The Big Day has come and gone at the hotel and let me tell you, there was actual cheering in the staff service areas the next day….
Don’t get me wrong, I have yet to hear any tales of Bridezilla running amok, or any issues of staff members being treated as less than human by drunken guests, but the entire affair threw a monkey wrench the size of Kim K’s booty into an already overworked machine. Summers are hectic enough on their own, but when you throw construction workers, renovators, an elevator repairmen strike, and soaring temperatures (It’s been hot. Damn hot!), you create a powder keg of epic proportions. Add a Big Wedding into the mix and all bets are potentially off.
I took a tour of the hotel’s mezzanine two hours prior to the wedding party’s arrival and it was a sea of black and white, as twenty temporary workers in white gloves paced nervously, each of them no doubt contemplating whether or not they would survive the coming onslaught. Most of these temps were young and pleasant, but as one would expect, there were a few rotten apples that rubbed the kitchen staff the wrong way.
I could overhear the grumbling emanating from the kitchen as I waited for an elevator so naturally The Hook lightened the mood by strolling in and commenting thusly: “Boy, there’s a small army of douchebags out there, isn’t there?”
Incidentally, hotel kitchens are as close to Wonderland as most of us will ever venture – unless you like to abuse pharmaceuticals, which you shouldn’t, that is – with all the wild sights and sounds your mind can handle without melting down.
- Steam from bubbling pots forms millions of wild designs.
- Sizzling grills create an organic rhythm all their own.
- Smells range from unearthly odors emanating from the “dish pit” to overpriced meat frying in pans.
- There are rivalries, affairs and every form of drama known to man.
It is also a well-established fact that kitchen staff like to snack on their creations, but I failed to take this into account and so one of my younger colleagues, a sweet young girl, spit out her jumbo shrimp as she processed the humor of my declaration. It sliced through the steam in the kitchen air and landed in a platter, forever lost among its many contents.
The entire kitchen became deathly quiet, as all wondered how to proceed; the platter was enormous and so picking through it or discarding it was out of the question. As it was my mess, I cleaned it up with a piece of homegrown Hook wisdom.
“In all likelihood, you’ll never see most of these people again.”
The kitchen erupted in laughter and I headed out quickly. (That way, if questioned, I could honestly say I had no idea how things worked out. Always consider plausible deniability, kids.)
Overall, the wedding went off without the proverbial hitch, minus a few minor glitches, of course.
- A few drunken, Alpha-male wedding guests began to fight in the lobby but fortunately they were all bluster. One of them actually said “Wanna fight about it?” (Stay away from sugar and pop music, kids, they’ll ruin you.)
- Our mezzanine connects to two other properties, but our half of the bridge was closed off to guests prompting a series of tirades but nothing spectacular or worth writing about. (Can’t win ’em all.)
However, the next morning was a Sunday, and while Sundays are famously challenging and filled to the brim with surprises, post-wedding Sundays are off the charts.
My first call of the day brought me in contact with a the prototypical American domestic unit: Mom, Dad and two preteen, squeaky clean kids, each of them glued to a phone or electronic device. The nuclear family re-imagined. The subject of the wedding arose when Dad asked why the mezzanine walkway was closed on a weekend in the busy season. “I think someone was drinking killer Kool-Aid!”
In passing I mentioned that while the ceremony was a lavish event (My favorite quote: ‘This deal is something Wills and Kate would stage if they didn’t have the English population to leech from!“), it was only the warm-up: the main event was going to be held in Italy, to accommodate any absent relatives.
At that moment one of the guest elevators arrived and in a rare Sunday occurrence, it was empty, save for a young couple. They had the typical Seventh Day look: wet hair, blank expressions, loose fitting clothing.
As we rode down together, Mom turned to her creations, waved a stern finger and issued an edict.
“When you guys get married, you’re getting one wedding in one country! And that’s it!”
The elevator stopped one floor shy of the lobby. The young couple, still expressionless, exited, gone, but definitely not forgotten. After the door closed, I began to gently bang my head against the gold brass of my luggage cart.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Mom inquired. That’s what moms do, after all.
“The young couple that just left?”
“What about them?” countered dad.
“That was the bride and groom.”
As we left the elevator and began to make our way through the check-out crowd, Mom and Dad asked the obvious question.
“How could that happen? What are the odds?”
My answer was equally obvious.
“You don’t realize this folks, but I’m The Hook. This was the only possible outcome.”
It is New Comic Book Wednesday, folks. Enjoy and be good to yourselves, all right?