Mary C. had it right in the previous posting: I didn't have any embarrassing relatives. So I decided to pick one event where a few relatives got to be temporarily embarrassing. That would be my sister's wedding.
My older sister had one of those huge wedding receptions, where my dad invited everyone he worked with and apparently, everyone he knew. You know the sort of wedding where you only recognize approximately 40% of the people coming at you in the reception line? That kind of wedding.
During the course of the evening, which involved a lot of celebrating, my best friend, also a member of my sister's bridal party, came up to me and confided in a horrified whisper that a dreadful old man kept inviting her to sit on his lap. My friend was drop-dead gorgeous, 19 years old, and somewhere between appalled and terrified. I asked her to point out the old man, and of course it was my Uncle Vernon after a little too much champagne. Then there was the groomsman who followed some of us into the lady's room to let us know we were needed for pictures. We stopped him before he started banging on the stall doors. Uh, a little privacy here? And my older brother was seen to be hanging by his fingertips from some construction scaffolding outside the hotel later that night. Sigh. Big get-togethers with all the relatives. What would life be without them?
So why is Paris Hilton at the top of this post, you might be asking? Well, it comes down to this. My family can get a little nuts during happy occasions but, I'd still rather be related to all of them than related to --
My older sister had one of those huge wedding receptions, where my dad invited everyone he worked with and apparently, everyone he knew. You know the sort of wedding where you only recognize approximately 40% of the people coming at you in the reception line? That kind of wedding.
During the course of the evening, which involved a lot of celebrating, my best friend, also a member of my sister's bridal party, came up to me and confided in a horrified whisper that a dreadful old man kept inviting her to sit on his lap. My friend was drop-dead gorgeous, 19 years old, and somewhere between appalled and terrified. I asked her to point out the old man, and of course it was my Uncle Vernon after a little too much champagne. Then there was the groomsman who followed some of us into the lady's room to let us know we were needed for pictures. We stopped him before he started banging on the stall doors. Uh, a little privacy here? And my older brother was seen to be hanging by his fingertips from some construction scaffolding outside the hotel later that night. Sigh. Big get-togethers with all the relatives. What would life be without them?
So why is Paris Hilton at the top of this post, you might be asking? Well, it comes down to this. My family can get a little nuts during happy occasions but, I'd still rather be related to all of them than related to --
No comments:
Post a Comment