Part of the field where I would have had the wedding.
I have always had something of an attitude about weddings, even when I was young and in love. Dad, on the other hand, had his own idea of what constituted a wedding, and as he phrased it, he only had one daughter. Well, it was kinda like the Green Acres song.
Fast forward thirty years or so and here I am older, more jaded, and definitely more cynical, snickering at the young women clutching their Brides magazine to their chests. At least I was, until the little one got engaged. Unfortunately, she's on the Left Coast. So here I am in Sarasota, charged with planning a wedding. Talk about the unlikeliest of people. All of a sudden, I'm the one sneaking a peak at The Knot. Funny thing is, I'm fully into the thing. Papi's revenge.
I have run into the Southern Wedding. In my New York brain, a wedding reception is supposed to rain food and drink. The other day, my mother reminded me that at mine there were no less than 21 different foodstuffs at the cocktail hour alone. Then there is the whole choreography thing of first dances, etc.... and a hell of a good party.
My friends from Mississippi inform me that I am mistaken. That some weddings actually have... I almost can't write it... cash bars. In fact, they recently came back from a wedding at a big, old antebellum plantation where when one of the gaggle of young boys came back from the pond with an 8 lb. bass, and the adult boys made a bee line for their trucks and started a fishing frenzy in the poor homeowner's pond. True story.***
In Sarasota since we are so much more upscale, there is a variant. I've come to learn that a wedding here is an expensive dinner with 3 hors d'oeuvres, count 'em 3, a panoply of unlikely taste combinations and a full bar you pay per drink. My father must be rolling over in his grave. If there is a dance floor at all, it's tucked in a nether corner of the room opposite this same bar. Not surprisingly, many people opt for the beach wedding. Having survived the hellish heat of an outdoor wedding in the summer last year, that's not an option, otherwise I would have suggested a barbeque. Oh, but wait, having it at home-which was my first choice-is even more costly. Rent the tent, rent the air-conditioners, rent the tables, chairs, linens, dishes, cutlery, get liability insurance, a permit from the county.... Yeah, not quite.
Oh, well, you know what they say, "When in Rome.." So here's to my prime rib with a mango chutney salsa. At least it's half the price of a New York fete.