An Amazing Wedding With Fashionable Eyeglasses

An Amazing Wedding With Fashionable Eyeglasses

I have been busy studying for and taking exams, but my brain could only take so much algebra in one sitting. So I took various breaks and spent time catching up on recapping the events of this summer. This installment will describe to you in horrifyingly exquisite detail the events surrounding the marriage of my cousin Zaid to Denise, a girl he met somewhere. Actually, she should be described as a lady. She is really cool, and I am glad to add her to my pantheon of cousins.

I arrived in Houston on July 2. The air was already thick with anticipation. I arrived in the late evening, so we went straight home for sleep. There was plenty of family business packed into the run up to the wedding. This was not small business, either. It was the merger of two large, multinational corporations, Zaid-Tec and Allied Denise Inc. They had been in merger talks for a while, and there had been rampant speculation on the internet (originating from me mostly) as to the particulars of this momentous occasion. Eventually, invitations arrived and the day of reckoning rapidly approached.

On July 3, I had only two missions in my life. First, I needed to study for my exams. Second, I needed to make sure I had a complete outfit. Never in my life have I consciously or willingly put an outfit together for anything. However, this event was of such huge import that I set aside the no outfit policy. One month prior, I had purchased a suit and left it to be altered by a local tailor. It now perfectly conforms to all of my delicate curves. After deciding on the best color shirt and tie, I left the house on a quest to find these things. I visited all the major clothing retailers in the area (Steinmart, Kohls, J.C. Penney, Montgomery Ward, Woolworths, Sears, K-Mart, Walmart, Target, Palais Royal, etc) before finally settling on a shirt at Macy’s. I purchased the shirt from a matronly woman named Rhonda who was pressuring me to sign up for a Macy’s credit card. I borrowed a tie from my father.

Since I had studied all morning, by the time I had acquired the shirt, it was time to go home and cook dinner. Mother was slated to head out to the boonies to attend one of those engagement shower parties with high levels of lady-business occurring. I would be hanging out with my father. Dinner was low key, and we watched a Lifetime made-for-TV movie about a woman who is victimized by all the men in her life until some other women help her and then everything turns out okay except that men are evil.

On July 4, I was suddenly informed that I would be attending an evening of tasty desserts and Iraqi tea at my Aunt and Uncle’s house. This would be in celebration of the actual wedding ceremony, which had taken place earlier in the day in a high security, ultra private affair in a clandestine location. Just like any corporate merger, the actual signing of the documents is attended only by the top officers from both companies. I was completely unaware of this tasty dessert party, and I had not packed any proper dessert tasting pants or any of my formal dessert bibs. Again, I spent much of the day studying; but at some point, I had to make an unscheduled trip to a clothing store on the birthday of our hugely awesome nation taking advantage of discounts while also stimulating the economy. It was the most patriotic thing I have done since eating that cake with American flag frosting three years ago.

We decided to be fashionably late to the tasty dessert party, and thus arrived there a bit after 8:00PM. The house was already full of people with whom I share sanguineous relationships. As we walked in the door, we were greeted by Zaid and Denise who were both descending the staircase, hand in hand. They seemed quite happy and quite married. I met Zaid at the bottom, and I asked him if he was really married. Zaid did not speak. He let his hand answer in the affirmative for him. On his left ring finger was a band forged from precious metals meant to symbolize the execution of the legally binding wedding agreement. I then turned my attention to my newest cousin, Denise. I congratulated her. Denise then told me that she expected me to write extensively about this marriage on my website. That is what I am doing in this very entry, Denise. As you can see, I am establishing myself as faithful, reliable cousin as I commit this description of your nuptials to text as fast as I can.

After Denise and I had communicated pleasantries to one another, she shockingly busted out with a juicy piece of Zaid-related gossip. She made remarks about Zaid’s clothing accessory choice. I laughed. Zaid quickly broke into our conversation with his classic, “hey now,” that he frequently says when someone points out something unusual about his clothing (such as repeatedly wearing the same shirt to multiple Thanksgivings). He pointed out that she had just told me to report everything on the website. I am a nice guy and quite afraid of Denise’s wrath, so I will avoid passing along the gossip; instead, I will just make up something. Let’s see…the suit Zaid was wearing that evening was made from baby seals, which Zaid hunted himself….with a club. That’s right, you read it here first. Therefore it must be true…

I realized that there were an overwhelming number of relatives with whom to talk: uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins, bespectacled and mustachioed individuals purporting to be distant relatives, etc. I wanted to talk with everybody, to exchange information and have frank discussions about the current issues affecting our family. It was quite difficult, though. There were a few highlights. I got to hug Aunt Lisa and Cousin Stephanie. I also made eye contact with Uncle Doug. That was a real growth step for me. I usually cannot look at him in the face because he was so frightening to me as a child. When he was my boss, he was quite a tyrant, too. He’s always been a bit of an ogre, as it relates to our interactions. I got to see Aunt Maggie and hear about her wonderful trip to Greece. She was also excited to hear about my impending trip to Northern Spain. My Cousin Georgia got in on this action, too. Cousin Danny and I talked about his latest housing concerns as well as his newest gigs. I also finally got to commune with my Aunt (and God-Momma) Tina. It was touch and go at first because of some recent trouble I caused here, but all was forgiven. I chatted with Moe and caught up with Yasser about the recent move to Pittsburgh. We have all been living in the same state but have been too busy to actually see one another. I told him that I would tentatively plan to take a train to see them after taking my exams.

I also got to meet Zaid’s best man and closest confidant, Tony. Zaid represented to Tony that I live my life in an unorthodox manner, which is a complete fabrication. Tony and I chatted for a while, during which I somehow misunderstood that he had gone to psychic school before getting hired at an architecture firm, learning the ropes on the job, and rising to become the lead architect. I commented on how unusual that life-job trajectory was, and after about ten minutes, Tony informed me that he was a computer architect with a degree in Psychology. Boy was my face red (from too much makeup). To extricate myself from this uncomfortable situation, I quickly distracted him with something shiny and excused myself to the Iraqi tea station. I love this tea, as much for the taste as for the process by which it is made. Simply marvelous!

After a while, it was time to cut the pre-wedding cake. Zaid and Denise cut the cake together, though I got the impression that most of the cutting was done by Denise. She has great knife handling skills. Zaid seemed to have some trouble, so Denise helped him while making it seem like she was just holding his hand for romantic reasons. After cake had been distributed, I got some more Iraqi tea and retreated to the front sitting room to chat with some San Antonio relatives. Mother and godmother were catching up on the latest health food juice products. Mother was really making the hard sell about this new juice called Xorpatron, which is supposed to clean your blood. After a while, it was time to leave. We bid farewell to the bride and groom.

It was July 5. I was excited. I had heard credible rumors that there would be tender, juicy, sliced roast beef served with horseradish sauce at the reception. This is my absolute favorite wedding food. Every time I eat it, I smile and think to myself, “this must have been what it was like when J.P. Morgan attended a wedding…” Cake would also be plentiful. Of course, the bridal wedding cake was sure to be an architectural feat of engineering since my uncle was trained as an architect in college. The groomiary cake would likely also be wonderful, though more modest, as tradition always dictates. At the appointed hour, we arrived at the galleria area hotel where the reception would take place. A valet took our car. I felt very pompous. We entered the reception room, and oh it was a grand affair. Cocktail hour was being held in a fabulously appointed holding room. At the center was an ice sculpture. I was tempted to touch it, perhaps even chip off a bit, but I remember how everyone seemed upset at the last wedding when I did that. Zaid and Denise were nowhere to be found. It turned out they would be presented to us later in the evening, once we were seated at our eating tables, just prior to the succulent roast beef with horseradish sauce.

However, despite the fact that the bride and groom would not be presented until later, there were plenty of people whose company I was happy to enjoy. Most of my family was there…

Unfortunately, my grandmother was ill, so she did not make the trip over, which was hugely disappointing. However, I did get to talk with her on the phone, and she seemed like she was going to be on the mend. I reminded her that when all was better we would get to work on our latest restaurant idea, Yiaya’s Papayas: Premium Pizza and Auto Body Repair While You Get Your Nails Done.

It was really great to get a chance to talk to everybody and wear my new outfit. I looked fantastic. Well, maybe that is a strong word. I looked okay…well, decent…okay let’s say not hideous. Since Cousin Daniel is preparing to enter his high school years, and Stephanie just finished the first of hers, I gave them some classic, Kirk-advice on how to stay out of trouble and advance their interests. After distributing a round of opinions to family members, I walked over to talk with my former boss and mentor, who was there with his wife and kids. It was then time to get place cards and see who my company would be for the next few hours.

The doors to the main dining area opened and attendants beckoned us to enter and take our seats. I found myself at a table with Mother, some cousins, Aunt Lisa, and Uncle Doug. Somehow he made it to the table first. When he saw me walking toward our table, he pulled my chair out with a look on his face that said, “You’re mine for the next few hours; prepare for some emotional discomfort.” I knew this night was about to get more interesting. Each table had lavish floral centerpieces which made it difficult to converse with people across the table. It was almost as if Lisa, Doug, Stephanie, and I were in our own little club inside a flower forest. Even though I could see Daniel and almost see Alex, they were not part of the club because of floral overhang. I would later find out that the flowers were awfully potent, almost overwhelmingly so.

A man interjected his presence into our little club to ask if I wanted wine. I told him that I did not and he took a bunch of my stemware away from me. I was displeased. While we waited for the succulent roast beef with horseradish sauce, we snacked on Jordan almonds, which had been strewn about the table. This also provided a distraction for Doug to keep his interaction with me to a minimum. He kept stating his intentions to box my ears before noticing more Jordan almonds on the table and eating them.

Suddenly, the doors swung back open and Cousin Reem walked in carrying a basket of flowers. As she led the way, the newly christened Mr. and Mrs. Zaid and Denise Zeeblemeyer walked through the door. They were glowing with wonderful radiance. Reem parted the masses and enforced the no-touching-the-couple policy. They weaved through the tables throwing out smiles and greetings while exuding a flashy fabulousness not seen in Houston since the seventies. I was able to snap a quick picture of Zaid and Denise as they passed, but they were moving quickly. Both are quite athletic and can move like snakes on a plane. Eventually, they found their way to the dance floor area. A pair of chairs, specially adorned for the occasion, was placed at the edge of the dance floor for Zaid and Denise to sit in to receive well wishers. My understanding is that these seats were traditional “marriage chairs”. The life of a newly minted married couple is not all country roses and golden idols. They are essentially out there on display for the people, and everyone wants to come up and interject their two cents about how wondrous this occasion is. Zaid and Denise sat patiently receiving everybody. At the far end of the room, the tasty roast beef with fresh horseradish sauce sat, beckoning the newly weds and the guests. Zaid had ordered me to take pictures of the reception during the previous evening’s tasty dessert gathering, so I did my duty, snapping pictures all along the way.

I seated myself, taking an opportunity for some respite. Doug had wandered away with Georgia’s recently de-mustachioed husband, John. I talked with Aunt Lisa about the new computers at her job, and I tried to give more mentoring advice to my younger cousins. Then it was time for the first dance. I cannot remember what song they chose, but it was beautiful. Zaid and Denise danced for masses, for the masses demanded it. After the dancing, we were ordered to return to our seats. A disembodied voice from above told us to remain seated and that we would be dismissed by table to get in the roast beef line. Was it a deity? Maybe the atheists were wrong. I was sure the answer was “yes,” but Doug spoiled my belief system by pointing out it was the disc jockey. He loves to put the mental screws to my psyche. At some point before our number was actually announced, people at our table suggested that perhaps we should already have gotten in the roast beef line. That did not seem right at all since none of the tables around us had been dismissed to get their food. However, the call of tender roast beef with horseradish sauce overrode my sense of honor in this situation. Thus, we dismissed ourselves to the food line. People were yelling at us along the way, but we deflected their criticisms and got in line.

I finally got another opportunity to chat with Aunt Tina as we advanced in line. Since we had resolved the controversies between us from the previous day, we were able to have a healthy godmother-godson talk. We exchanged information until we arrived at the food distribution section of the food line. There were various salads and side dishes. I looked to my left and saw the object of my affection, the sliced roast beef with horseradish sauce station. There was man with a long, sharp knife ready to cut some meat for me on command. I made a mental note not to upset the guy lest he begin slicing at me. Aunt Tina informed me about how much she loved this type of roast beef. I nodded and told her I thought it was okay. I did not think it was appropriate to acknowledge my weakness for such a lavish food in front of my godmother. She might have gotten the impression that I have been traipsing around town with the Philadelphia horsy set. I asked for and received a healthy slab of the wonderful meat, and over the top I poured the wonderful horseradish sauce. At that moment, I reached a religious Zen-like state in the church of meat worship.

As I sat down at the table to consume these victuals, noticed that Zaid and Denise were circulating around the banquet hall, talking with people as they ate. It was then that I truly recognized the genius of their plan. They would ply us with sumptuous roast beef with spicy horseradish sauce and then take that opportunity to accept our congratulations. That way no guest would be able to truly talk the bride and groom’s ears off with unnecessarily bloated congratulations. Why talk when there’s meat on the plate to be ate. As I enjoyed the meat, the newlyweds made their way to our table. Zaid asked if I had been taking pictures. We shook hands like men, and Zaid moved on to Doug. Denise then stood over me and smiled. She grabbed my shoulder with surprising strength. She is quite mighty. I won’t lie, it hurt quite a bit. She told me that she had always liked me and thought of me as a good, upstanding individual. She reiterated that she wanted to see me write things about the wedding on the website, but that I better not write anything too outlandish or scandalous. My eyes were watering from the vice nerve pinch she had placed on my shoulder pressure points. After she walked away, someone asked why I was crying. I lied and stated that I had eaten too much horseradish sauce. It was a good cover.

I ate enough food for three Vikings, all the while remaining wary of Doug’s demeanor. There were two wedding guests not of our family at the table (old friends of my aunt and uncle). They clearly saw the fear I had of Doug and inquired as to the nature of our relationship. I tried to put a nice spin on my Doug related interactions, but later I secretly informed them of his scariness. They told me that is was going to be okay and reminded me that since I live in Philadelphia and am now an adult, his reign of terror should finally be over. They were right. He’s not so scary any more.

Suddenly it was time to slice some cake. The masses huddled around the wedding cake station. I elbowed by way to a good position in the front with my camera in hand. The cutting setup was similar to the previous night, except the cake towered over everybody and was much more lavish. Zaid and Denise held the knife together. Of course, as I wrote before, Denise is quite a knife wielder. She was able to steady Zaid’s hand and provide the necessary strength and determination to cut that cake. After the cutting, they dispensed with what I consider one of the most important parts of the reception. Zaid did not force feed cake to Denise. This was highly unorthodox. This tradition is representative of the groom asserting his dominance in the marriage. Instead, Zaid and Denise ate their respective pieces of cake while sipping on fine champagne. Then Denise did something shocking. She forced Zaid to eat cake. It was a total reversal. How could Zaid let this happen? He tried to recover a few minutes later, but it was too late. Denise had asserted her dominance, setting the tone for years of the marriage.

After the cake cutting exercise concluded, attendants began delivering the cake to the tables. It was standard wedding cake fare with light icing. I quite like that kind of cake. Around that time, Zaid’s best man Tony stood on the dance floor with a microphone in hand. It was time for the highly anticipated bestmanular speech. Tony talked about how he and Zaid first met fore making subtle references to various troubles they had created for themselves. For example, they tried to sneak off to New Orleans Mardi Gras, but were foiled at the last minute when a third member of the group (whom we will call Willard) expressed excitement over the impending drive to New Orleans to my uncle Nabil. Thus ended the quest to Mardi Gras, before it ever began. Willard was expelled from Zaid’s friendship organization. Tony concluded his speech and slowly back away from the stage. He was followed by the maid of honor, whose name I never got. She had a red dress. She told everyone that they had to sit down before she would start her speech. Once everyone was seated at the correct table, she began to speak about the closeness she and Denise share, rivaling that of sisters. It was a touching tribute to the friendship.

The maid of honor’s speech was the last structured activity of the evening. It was now time for the freestyle dancing. Zaid and Denise had brought in this singer who would do twenty minute songs where he would continuously sing dance type tunes. He had pipes rivaling Ethel Mermon. In between his performances, popular music would be played by the deejay. We really tore up the dance floor. It was quite a blast. My Great Aunt Maggie got out there and really showed that we have been blessed with excellent genes. Mother was out there as was I. As it got close to midnight, it was time to leave. Soon, our automobile would turn back into a pumpkin, and my glass loafers would disappear. I was not sad to leave, though, because I felt that I had sufficiently cut the rug and showed off my dance skills. Thus we asked the valet to fetch our automobile and left the hotel.

The following morning, a final breakfast was slated to take place at the hotel. I went back on my own since Mother was plum tuckered out from the affair. I enjoyed one more morning with my San Antonio relatives. Barclay and Kristi left with my cousins to visit NASA. Daniel and Alexandra headed back to San Antonio. Lisa left with Stephanie to do whatever it is they felt the need to do. I stayed to watch Wimbledon with Aunt Maggie, Cousin Georgia, and Aunt Tina until it was time to send them off to the airport. In the meantime, Georgia told me that Aunt Madeline had given us permission to take the centerpieces. She suggested I load them into Mother’s car and drive them around to the local family members. In all, I collected about ten centerpieces of various sizes and stashed them in Mother’s car. I bid farewell to everybody, and began driving to Doug and Lisa’s house to deposit a few of the arrangements. It turns out that when one collects large numbers of freshly cut, potent flowers in a small enclosed area, the pheromones really can be overwhelming. As I drove, I began to feel both sick and dizzy yet strangely amorous, and I was not sure why. After a few minutes I realized that the pungent aroma of the flowers while beautiful was also deadly, much like when a beautiful female assassin wears perfume. I opened the windows which dramatically improved the driving conditions in that car. The water in the arrangement vases overflowed onto the cars carpets, but I was able to clean that mess up without Mother really realizing what had happened. As long as she does not read this website, everything should be okay. If she does read this far in the story, she will probably give me a stern talking-to, but I will have deserved it.

Zaid and Denise began their honeymoon in Spain a couple of days later. By complete coincidence, I also went to Spain a few days after that, though we were never in the same place. That is the start of another story.

When I reflect on the theme of this wedding, I keep coming back to that tasty, succulent, tender roast beef and horseradish sauce. I have come to realize that the roast beef with horseradish sauce is a metaphor for Zaid and Denise. Separately, roast beef is just a flavorful cooked meat while horseradish sauce is something I like and frequently drink before bedtime. However, together, they form one of the most wonderful foods known to man. Similarly, Zaid and Denise are fairly cool people. They have good jobs. Denise used to work for Transformers (her boss was Optimus Prime). I had plenty of respect for them. However, together they can now be termed a “super couple,” greater than the sum of their parts. Maybe I am just reading way too much into all of this.

Congratulations Zaid and Denise. I hope you (Denise) realize what you have gotten yourself into by joining our family.