Me Neither (#75)

When will the bride and groom get to enjoy some of their own wedding cuisine in peace?

When will the bride and groom get to enjoy some of their own wedding cuisine in peace? When pigs fly, of course.

Married persons —

Do you remember all the lovely food at your wedding? The cuisine that you carefully selected in advance? The hors d’oeuvres of bacon-wrapped scallops, chicken satay, or asparagus goat cheese brioche? Can you recall the taste of the prime rib, or the mushroom ravioli?

Yeah, me neither.

Probably because all our guests devoured the hors d’oeuvres while we were stuck taking pictures with my massive family. (As I wrote this, I asked Andy what the hors d’oeuvres were at our wedding. Andy: “We had hors d’oeuvres?”)

As for the entrée? While the food was served, various family members and friends stopped by our table to chat. We chatted back while our prime rib congealed. (Andy now insists our prime rib was a fillet. Or chicken, he says. “Maybe.”)

The DJ called us to the floor for our dance. When we returned to our seats, our plates were gone. So fleeting was my rendezvous with my meal that I can’t remember if the potatoes were mashed, or new. (Andy just told me the potatoes were rice. Huh.)

I got one bite of cake. The one bite Andy fed me. I adore cake, and I would have liked more. But after I smashed Andy’s bite of cake in his face, I had to run. So it was sort of my fault, although, seriously, every family member of mine at the wedding had me correctly profiled as a smash-cake-in-facer. Only Andy was surprised. And a teensy bit more put out than I expected.

Andy’s pretty fast. Still, he’d never have caught me if not for the crinoline and a twenty-pound dress.* Capture was followed by the bouquet toss and suddenly there were no more plates of cake. Guests told me it was delicious, though. Especially the chocolate layer.

********************

You know how your wedding night is supposed to be you, your new spouse, and epic lovemaking?

Yeah, me neither.

We were starving. Andy immediately ordered room service. A lot of room service. Everything the Inn made that was fried, I think.

Then he helped me get out of my dress. Sounds sexy, right?

Andy would like me to inform you that disrobing the bride is about as romantic as removing and replacing a window screen. It takes at least as long, and involves a similar amount of swearing. (Andy is still miffed that I refused to let him cut the dress laces.)

Andy’s phone beeped several times during the process. It was his parents. We ignored it. The phone in the bridal suite rang. And rang. We knew who it was. We unplugged it.

We vowed we were not going to let Andy’s parents intrude on our wedding night.

Famous last words. Andy’s mother came to our suite and knocked. “Andy? Andy?”

We pulled the covers over our heads and then froze, like mice under the snow listening for an arctic fox.

“Do your parents not want a grandchild after all?” I whispered.

“I guess not,” Andy whispered back.

“I bet she wants to berate you for hyphenating your name again. Don’t open the door.”

“Not a chance,” Andy agreed.

Sunny knocked for a few more minutes. Finally, silence.

Five minutes later, a different knock, and a muffled voice. “Room service!”

We threw on bathrobes and opened the door.

A server pushed a cart into our room.

Sunny pushed passed him and pounced. “So, Andy, I call and call and I knock and knock and why you don’t answer?”

Andy pointed to his bathrobe and the disheveled bedclothes. “Ma.”

The server shot me a sympathetic look as he transferred a tray to a table. I braced myself and waited for Sunny to begin berating us for changing our surnames to Ashbough-Wong.

But she had something else in mind. “Your brother is leaving early tomorrow for the airport. It is too early for me and your Daddy and your sister.”

Andy gave his mother a puzzled look. “So, Ma?”

I salivated as the server pulled the cover off a plate of potato skins with a flourish.

“Denny has the rental car. He needs it to get to the airport. What time your flight?”

Andy: “Our flight isn’t till two.”

The server set the table with napkins, utensils, and water glasses. He uncovered some fish and chips and a cheeseburger. I tipped him, walked him back to the door, and waited there. Pointedly. The server took the hint and left. Sunny did not.

Sunny: “Oh, so late! But you can leave early, wait at airport. Who is taking you?”

“We hired a limousine, Ma.”

“Perfect! Plenty of room for everyone. We meet you in lobby at 7 AM.” Sunny finally seemed to notice the table and the state of the room. She giggled. “I guess you guys worked up an appetite! Grandson in nine months, yeah?”

She left. I closed the door. Andy and I stared at each other for several seconds.

He looked at the floor first. “Uh, sorry, honey.”

“Your mother has known everyone’s flight times for a month.”

“Yeah.”

“Only NOW she realizes it’s a problem for them to get up early with your brother and wait at the airport an extra hour?”

“Uh…”

“But it’s perfectly FINE for us to change our car service and for us share our limo for our honeymoon and for us to just hang out at the airport for four hours?!”

“Come have some food, honey.” Andy sat at the table and stuffed a french fry in his mouth.

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“At least she didn’t start in with the name-change?”

“No, she’s saving THAT for the two-hour car ride tomorrow. When we’re a captive audience.” I hunted down my phone, looked up a number, and dialed. “But that’s not happening.”

I was on hold for a long time, several times. I paced until I got tired. Then I lay on the bed. I dozed off once, but in the end, I got what I wanted.  I was too tired to get out of the bed, though, even for food. I rolled over and slept.

The next morning, a limousine arrived for Sunny and company at 7 AM. Andy and I slept while some hapless driver repeatedly told Sunny that, no, Andy and Autumn would be taking a different limousine later that day. And, yes, he had already been paid, and tipped, and perhaps they should hurry so they had plenty of time for the security lines.

Andy and I grabbed a quick breakfast at the Inn a few hours later. After we paid the remaining balance for various hotel rooms($$), the receptions ($$$), and the open bar ($$$$$), the wedding coordinator handed us a pink bakery box.

“It’s the top layer of your wedding cake,” she explained.

So you know how newlyweds freeze the top tier of their wedding cake for a year and then eat it on their first wedding anniversary?

No? Me neither.

We flew to Mexico right after our wedding. There was no chance to find our cake  a freezer. But that’s okay.

On our way to the airport, we kicked back in our private limo with some champagne. We ate the entire top of our wedding cake.

It was chocolate. And it was good.

*Speaking of the massive dress, you know how the jilted-at-the-altar storyline always seems to be the groom ditching the bride? It’s ONLY because the brides can’t run, thanks to the dress. If the bride could pass through normal-sized doorways, climb into a car, or even pee by herself, there would be a lot more runaway brides.

If you liked this, let the white girl know!

  1. Another great post. 🙂

    Also reminds me why I never wanted to get married. I wasn’t afraid of commitment, I was afraid of the spectacle. And dealing with any inlaws.

  2. Your MIL is hard to believe. I’d like to have seen her face when the first limo arrived and she was told another one was coming for the bride and groom. Way to go, Autumn!!

  3. Weddings aren’t for the bride and groom to enjoy. Why does this remain a secret or is it just a fact most people prefer to ignore?

    I’m glad we are on to the even more juicy bits now. . . the in-laws. I have a feeling they’ll be coming up even more post-wedding?

    • I think everyone tells you that the wedding isn’t for the bride and groom, but you can’t quite believe it. I mean, you pick out the venue, the colors, the attendants, the music, the menu…and then you pay for everything. It’s crazy that it’s not for the bride and groom!

      But you’re right. Because as the bride, you’re also the hostess. And it’s not your job to have a good time. It’s your job to make sure all the guests have a really good time. Which is the ultimate wedding paradox. 🙂

      Oh, yes. Sunny is readying the cavalry for the battle of the surname.

  4. Oh man, great post. 😀

    I don’t remember what I ate, either. I just remember my husband, his mother, brother and I ate at a overrated restaurant in Key West. I had great food in Key West…just not on that day. Maybe that is why I don’t remember.

    I grew up without a mother. My husband is very lucky. Me? Not so much.

  5. MIL Sunny comes across as the boss here – it’s like she’s the one running the whole show 😀 I thought you were very well composed when she turned up right along with room service. Cake. You know when there’s cake at the end for yourself, chances are things weren’t as bad as they seemed…and chocolate cake? Now that is always, ALWAYS good.

    • Thanks, Mabel! I don’t feel like I was composed. More like in shock. I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to say. Or how to argue. Or protest.

      Or maybe I was just too weak from hunger!

      • Perhaps it was a combination of all of the above. Shock, surprise, hunger, fatigue, happiness all rolled into one moment. I mean, you danced and posed the night away, met so many people – how can you not get wired and tired from all that 😀

  6. “So you know how newlyweds freeze the top tier of their wedding cake for a year and then eat it on their first wedding anniversary?”

    This sounds pretty gross if I may say so: a cake that lasts one year (albeit frozen) must be serious chemical potentially life-threatening stuff.

    Beside this, oh Autumn I totally get how frustrating, upsetting and insulting it is to have in-laws that clearly disregard your couple’s privacy, intimacy and autonomy. Even though I am not married yet (last but not least because of how insufferable Mr. B’s mom is. I will frankly postpone the moment I am officially her daughter in-law as much as possible) I’ve got my good deal of such situations. I just hate it.

    It makes me dream about slapping her in the face.

    • Ha, yes, Marghini, eating the top tier the following year is a kind of gross tradition. I think it started with fruitcakes, which can’t really go bad due to being pickled in alcohol. But I do know some couples who wrapped the cake top very tightly and swear the cake was just as good one year later.

      Thank you for the MIL sympathy! You know, while my in-laws make me nuts, figuring out how much of it is simply cultural has helped me not take it personally (a little too late in some cases). Chinese families tend to be very entwined, financially and otherwise, and parents do expect their children to follow their wishes.

      Ignore your parents? Inconceivable!

      • Sorry to butt in.

        It’s true that Chinese parents do expect their children to follow their wishes and not to answer back. From experience, it depends on the families and background.

        • Comments are a free country! Butt in all you like. 🙂

          You know, I have heard stories about the elusive “Dolphin” parent — the Chinese parent who is more playful and supportive of their child than the stern and demanding Tiger parent.

          I don’t know of any personally, though.

          • Thanks, Autumn. You’re kind.

            I’ve just looked into the different types of Chinese parents for the very first time.

            The only ‘Dolphin’ parents I know are mixed race (Chinese and Muslim??).

            I know the family of the songbird mum, who forced the child to be independent by pushing the child off a metaphorical branch. I don’t know which is worst; the demanding Tiger parent or the songbird mum.

          • I have never heard of the ‘Dolphin’ parent, yet the description fits my mother quite well, although growing up she was never playful, but always supportive. I think at the time being a divorced mother in UT she had larger concerns than tiger parenting, more like putting a roof over our heads, keeping us fed & clothed and other immediate necessities. She was glad the kids(sister and I) kept out of trouble and was self-sufficient enough that traveling out of state for work was possible.

            • Sounds like you had a great Mom. Yeah, when parents have to worry about basic necessities, I think some of the more extreme parenting goes out the window. Kids also learn to be more independent.

              I heard about Dolphin parenting from my Japanese-American friend. Maybe it’s just a California/ South Bay Surfer term for the moment.

  7. Brides tend to flee BEFORE they reach the altar. The cliche is the groom standing there like an idiot for 40 minutes until someone notifies him that the bride has called and says she’s on her way to Guam with the best man/her high school crush/her hairdresser.

    Also, PSCS’s wedding dress once removed sat there looking vaguely like the blancmange that meant to win Wimbledon. Clothes are supposed to fall to the floor, not sit there slowly sinking like a leaky souffle. I can’t remember if I hung it up before I fell asleep or after I woke up, but I do know that we slept the hell out of that night.

    We (and when I say we, I mean PSCS) were lucky, in that someone brought us (her) stuffed mushrooms, so she had at least some hors d’ouevres. Not that I can complain, as one of the groomsmen kept bringing me beer.

    • Oh, yeah, the wedding dress has a life of its own. If, say, you left it standing in the corner of the room, the ghostly silhouette might scare the crap out of a semi-drunk groom who got up in the middle of the night…

      • We had built-in breaks, since BSBS had to wrangle crowds of ornery family and friends (some already drunk, or well on their way) across a large lawn for each picture. And my groomsmen are all top-quality folks.

  8. Good call on eating the top tier of your cake on your way to the honeymoon rather than a year later. Once, when I was married and my mom was visiting us, we were all in our bedrooms for the night. Apparently, my ex and I must have been having too much fun because the next morning my mother asked us “what were you laughing about last night?” Parents! You have to love them though!!

    • Ha! I have the reverse issue. Once my dad gave a little too much information on relations with his current wife. And I did the kid thing where I screamed and put my hands over my ears. “EWWWWW! Stop!”

  9. It’s the wee hours of the morning. Where the hell am I gonna get some chocolate cake!? And as I see it Autumn, you may owe us a story of epic lovemaking.

  10. Aren’t you glad it’s over? And for years and years to come, just think how “exciting” the retelling of your wedding story will be, right? Congrats Autumn and Andy. Here’s to more adventures, lots of love and laughter. xxoo

  11. I’m sure the good folks are still telling others about the good knees-up.

    People have good memory, judging from experience.

  12. This is great! I’m reading all your posts related to your name change, and they are hysterical. I love how mother in laws completely dismiss logic and feeling and go straight to “their way” no matter what. Nice that you evaded her in your private limo, though!