Wedding Over

Finally the photographer finished with me. I remember worring about what was going to becoe of those photgraphs. I wasn't to keep on my friends seeing a picture of me dressed up like this. We all we piled in the car and drove over to the place where there would be eats for all the wedding guests. I guess this was to compensate them for the trouble of getting all dolled up in their finest outfits and blowing a beautiful Saturday afternoon for a 15 minute show and the chance to look at the pretty boy in his oh so cute short pants outfit. This time I didn't have the option of remaining secluded in the car as my mother hustled me into the banquet hall as soon as we arrived.

The Hall

Woweee. It was a huge rectangular room decorated in a bright red, white, and blue motif. An a lot of the decoration was in the form of balloons. Mother showed me where I would be sitting at the end of the long table that ran down the long side of the room. I was elated. Luckily it was almost like a refuge. I quickly took my seat which hid my little short pants and spared me the stares I felt everyone that was milling about was giving me. Of course I realized that everyone there had seen me at the wedding and knew only to well how I was dressed. But anyway I felt much better being able to more or less hide my stupid outfit away.

My Uncle

My uncle sat next to me at the table. He was in the Army Air Corps and was wearing his snazzy uniform. Several friends of the groom were also in their Navy uniforms as well. Uncle was never one to mince words and as he gave my stupid little short pants a quick look and slapped by bare leg--telling me what a wimpy sissy I looked like. I was about to complain that I had nothing to do with how silly I looked and I hated the outfit when he said that he would straighten out his sister that 'he men' don't wear little boy short pants outfits. He went on, glaring at me, "Boy, if you want to wear short pants, at least wear a Boy Scout uniform that makes you look like a man." Yah, well if you gotta wear shorts to be a Boy Scout, you can forget about my ever being one, I thought to myself.

I had gotten short changed out of breakfast and since it had to be at least 4 PM my tummy was beginning to complain in a big way. I asked my uncle what the holdup was with the eats and he said the caterers wanted to wait until my aunt and new hubby showed up before they started setting out any food. Finally after an interminable wait they showed up and the waiters started distributing the salads.

The Champaign

A couple of waiters were also pouring drinks from tall bottles into the shallow wide topped drinking glasses everyone had in front of them. In addition to being hungry I was also really thirsty. Finally one of them came along behind us filling each glass at our table as he went. However when he finished with my uncle's glass he started to walk away. Before I could even object to being missed my uncle sternly commanded, "FILL HIS GLASS."

Now my uncle wasn't much taller than me and probably didn't weigh more than 150 pounds soaking wet, but he was one of those people that instantly demanded attention the minute they walk in a room. The waiter was a big guy that could easily have picked him up and tossed him out a window, but at his command he quickly returned and filled my glass almost to overflowing. The stuff looked liked 7-Up but it didn't fizz the same way. I felt the glass and it was cold. Just what I needed; something cold and wet. When the waiters had filled all the glasses they had brought out additional full bottles of the stuff that they placed in a thing that looked like a floor ashtray except it had a large cylindrical top that I assumed was filled with ice to keep the drink cold

My uncle informed me I was not to drink any of the stuff, however, until he had presented a toast to my aunt and her husband. Hah! I knew what that was because I had seen guys giving toasts in the movies. I plaintively asked him if he was going to give it yet today and he said he would just as soon as the minister finished giving the invocation.

Invocations and Toasts

Finally a hush fell across the mob of people at the tables as the minister who was seated at the opposite end of the table got up. I then discovered that an invocation was simply a very, very, long grace. When he finally shut up and sat down my uncle got up and started blabbing away. I thought the toast was supposed to say complementary things about the recipients, but a lot didn't sound very complementary to me. However the audience seemed to think it was OK because they interrupted him several times with applause, whistles, and shouts directed mainly at the groom. While this was going on everyone had their glass in their hand and when he finally stopped yacking we all took a swig.

Poorly Designed Short Pants

Hummm. The stuff in the glass had an interesting taste and was all bubbly like seltzer water I had been given a couple of times at adult parties. Most importantly it was wet and cold and before I realized that all the others had just taken one sip I had guzzled my glass down. They finally got around to placing water pitchers on our table and I was about to ask my uncle to pass it when he noted my glass was empty. He asked me if I wanted any more and I said, "Sure, it tastes yummy." My uncle fetched the bottle that was nearest to us and refilled my glass and topped off his and his fiancée's as well.

By the time I had finished off my desert I had downed three glassfuls of the bubbly stuff that my uncle said was called champagne. I also realized that I had a major urge to go to the bathroom and with all the people in the room it had suddenly become quite hot causing me to sweat under the stupid bulky lace collar of my shirt. I asked my uncle where the bathroom was and he indicated the rest rooms were located down a hallway off the end of the room. The most direct route for me to take would have been to cut across the corner between several of the tables, however, because I wanted to call as little attention to my outlandish outfit as possible I decided to walk along the walls. When I got up I noticed I felt a really funny floating feeling. I actually had to grab the edge of the table to steady myself. Once I was stable I headed down along the wall that was behind our table.

As I made my way it became obvious that my plan was not working because everybody seemed to be staring at me and giggling as I made my way to the end of the room. When I got to the men's room it was empty, fortunately, because I was then faced with the problem of how to do my thing while wearing these ridiculous shorts. I had no problem getting the fly buttons undone but I then discovered that the bottom of the fly was to high. I finally had to disconnect the suspenders from the front of the shorts. It was obvious the idiot that designed these pants never intended to wear them himself. It was all really embarassing.

Punch

I returned to the table by the same route and as I walked up my mom was giving uncle hell about something. When I sat down she sternly informed both of us that I wasn't to have any more of the bubbly stuff. I was still very thirsty so my uncle told me to wait a minute and he would get me some punch. Then he got up and made his way to the table that was located at the end of the room in front of the hallway I had just visited. I saw him grab several glasses and fill them from a huge bowl that was in the center of the table. using some kind of ladle. When he brought the filled glasses back he said, "Here, give this a try."

The short fat tumbler was filled with a milky white concoction that had some white limps floating around in it. The glass was freezing cold and I took a big slurp of the punch. It was super sweet and yummy. I maneuvered one of the lumps between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and squished it. Hot damn! No question; the lumps were vanilla ice cream. Coooool. Needless to say I guzzled down the rest of the milk shake like drink in nothing flat. Since we were the first table to get our chow several of the other tables were just finishing up their deserts at this point. We then waited nearly another half hour until the waiters got all the tables cleared. Meanwhile a couple of the grooms buddies gave toasts to break up the monotony. The next thing on the agenda was for the bride and groom to open all the presents that people and brought. These were piled high on a table at the opposite end of the hall. Most of the people including my uncle and his girl moved down to the other end so they could see what was going on. After about 45 minutes of ooohs and aaahs I figured they might me running out of gifts.

Dancing

Afterwards there was endless dancing. Now at 11, dancing was another of the things that I didn't care for. My mother had insisted I take dancing lessons--but only under considerable duress. Added to the pain of having to dress up was having to spend a perfectly good saturaday morning cooped up with a bunch of stupid girls. I changed my mins about the alter in the next year--but at the time I felt rather pationately on the subject. Now if I hated dancing--prancing about the dance floor in my little short oants was much, much worse. I was forced to doe-se-doe with my aunt, grandmother, and mother, which simply exposed me to more giggles the party started winding down.

My aunt was the worst culprit concerning the dancing. She not only insisted on dancing, but kept telling me how nice I looked. If anything was said beyond that it would have delt with "How and I supposed to hold you? Or, where do I put what foot next?" Needless to say I wan't much of a dancer.

I had no idea at the time how to dance. My mother had suggestyed a dancing school--but i Had objected, viewing dancing school as sissy stuff. Actually, I never learned to dance. Fortunately my wife wasn't into dancing either or she would have been out of luck with me.

The dancing seemed to go on and on for ever. Even after the bride and groom, the minister, and two couples that had younger children had left. Eventually, however, the lasdies lost interest in dancing with me, especially after my aunt departed with his new husband. I was able to seek cover at the table that I had been assigned. As I was able to hide muself away--it was a welcome refuge compared to being the center of attention on the dance floor.

The banqut dragged on for much of the afternoon. I at least had some fun bursting all the baloons and as the crows thined out at least there were fewer people to see me in my ring bearer outfit. I had plenty of time to thinkmabout the whole situation as I waited there. The one thought that I kept coming up with was if I ever would have to wear this outfit again. My conclusuion was an unsettling one. It seemed highly unlikely that I would only wear such a fancy suit once.

Henery Bustum

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Created: September 15, 2000
Last updated: September 26, 2000