I’m quickly finding out that weddings aren’t just about pledging your life to another’s for the rest of your days.
They’re also about tablecloths.
And music. And dresses. And walking around stores with a scanner. And food – wonderful, wonderful food.
My fiancee and I had our wedding tasting last weekend at the Morton Arboretum in Lisle where we’re going to have our reception.
It was neat. I was served Pepsi in a fancy glass and then they brought out appetizers and soups and salads and steak and chicken and pork and fish and mashed potatoes and, oh my, I’ve just gained five pounds.
Everything was presented so nice, and the silverware was in the right place, and her parents went over different tablecloths and seat covers. Everyone was polite and said thank you and had napkins in their laps. The food was beyond delicious. It was surreal.
A southern Indiana native, I’m just not used to this. Back home, a good reception is directly related to how many items are at the buffet/potluck. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I like buffets. They’re so wonderfully democratic, with just a hint of anarchy.
But our wedding tasting at the arboretum was classy, which is not just another word for how you feel when you’re bored and sitting in class.
And all the weddings I’ve been to up here are like that. You sit down and someone brings you courses. What? I don’t have to get up and get my own food?
That’s what getting married is all about – the merging of families, learning to compromise and pledging your life to another’s for the rest of your days.
Well, that and tablecloths.