Sunday, September 06, 2009

There Is No Santa Claus

The Bride and Groom ready to make their Grand Entrance.

Make no mistake about it, I'm a terrible wedding guest.

Not that I get belligerently drunk and start dancing on the bar wearing one of the bridesmaids pieces of lingerie from a 20 second bathroom tryst (that's never happened...), but rather because I'm absolutely terrible about returning those RSVP cards you get in the invitations. In fact, I'm terrible at even opening the invitation.

That's because chances are that the reason you've invited me to your wedding is because we've been good friends for many years. With that kind of relationship, I absolutely am going to make it to your wedding. You're going to ask me, I'm going to ask the date and then when I said "yes, I will attend" I meant it. No need to worry about invitations, those cards or whether or not I'll be bringing a date (I won't because Hope Springs Eternal), I will be there just as I promised.

Andi ponders the right time to chat with Tita Zenaida.

Of course, that doesn't stop the constant nagging from the bride about when I'm going to send the card back. Sheesh, didn't I say I was coming - isn't that enough? But really, I understand your concern. You want to know whether I'll have the chicken or the beef - truth is, I don't care because I already know the caterer who's charging you a hundred bucks a head has precooked the entire dish and it will be sitting in an Alto-Shaam all day long rendering whatever flavor you got so excited about four months ago during your tasting into bland, dry mush.

The one that really had me confused was my friend who kept asking me when I was going to send the card in because they needed to know for sure that I was coming. The part that confused me was that I had already promised to be one of his groomsmen. I thought for sure the agreement to be a groomsman also meant that I agreed to attend the wedding...

After many years of turning down offers of marriage, Angeli finally decided to take the plunge and marry Des. It's a fairy tale story that begins three years ago during Angeli's sisters wedding to that racy Colombian Camilo. Both Des and Angeli were the best man and maid of honor and such began a torrent of love that somehow featured living in Gigi and Camilo's basement and other whirlwind events that I wasn't able to make out of the speeches.

This photo appears at the demand of my publicist.

Within our circles, Des' best man speech is notoriously regarded as one of the longest, most rambling speeches in history. Thirty minutes of oratory that no one really understood, filled with roasting and the revelation that Santa Claus does not exist. Thus resulting in a mass hysteria amongst the ring bearer and flower girl whose milk and cookie filled dreams of Fat Santa and reindeer were crushed in one swift strike. Nothing quite like watching wailing children run from the room with mommies chasing after them.

Returning the favor, Gigi and Camilo were the matron of honor and best man, and they too remembered Des' speech, making jokes about it at every opportunity. Note: please don't poke fun at someone else's speech unless you're absolutely sure that your speech is going to be better.

But weddings are about fun and revelry and, as long as the bar stays open, good times. Luckily for us, the bar stayed open late into the night, which augurs good fortune and long life for Des and Angeli.

A proper Filipino Wedding just isn't unless a fresh Lechon is involved.