wedding dinner

Been down with flu the whole week so was incapable to say nice things here. Now that I'm feeling slightly better, I shall... erm... say more mean stuff. Muahaha. The wedding dinner last Saturday in Penang was certainly an eye-opener. No, you asshole, I'm not THAT notoriously sarcastic and mean that not one of the people I know has ever invited me to their wedding dinner before. See, there's Nicole's wedding dinner, and... Hey, that's it. Gee. My friends don't marry early I guess. I'm very certain that none of them got married without inviting me. You asshole. I have the inexplicable superpower to cause a certain level of drunkenness (not mentioning the under influence farm animals buggering crowdscene extravaganza) armed with very potent doses of laughing-till-you-pee-your-pantiesism. Why wouldn't anybody like me around?

Anyway, back to Joe's wedding dinner. Furby, Wombat and I had a 10-person table all to ourselves. Mucho pathetic, yes, but we didn't know a soul in the entire hotel ballroom, except the bride. The first course came. 10-person portion! Eyes gleaming with glee (could be just me), we dug in. Ugh. From a hotel of that standard (and price) we expected something edible, if not slightly tastebud-friendly. While chewing, we looked around and spotted another table with 4 persons. Hah. We're not the only disease-ridden aliens after all. And Joe looked absolutely radiant.

Suddenly, a middle-aged beer-pourer (welcome to the country of wedding dinner contract beer ladies!) in t-shirt and shorts (zero points in appearance) asked gruffly if anyone else would be sitting at our table. Temporarily paralysed from shock and blurness, I must have shaken my head with mouth agape. I couldn't help it. I am a polite and honest citizen, ever ready to answer questions of fellow citizens, although the staple questions from beer ladies are "More?" and "Do you want a mug too?" And this commendable habit I came to regret soon enough.

At the end of the first course, two lovely ladies sauntered over and sat at our table. They're Joe's highschool buddies. Exchanged pleasantries and introductions all around. Then the beer lady (Bear Lady more like it) ushered in an old granny to our table alongside with another beer-pourer armed with a pitcher of beer who couldn't be anyone else other than her husband (Bear Lady's, not the gran's, you ass). The nicer side of the table exchanged "Can they do THAT?" looks among ourselves. We said nothing. Then the second course arrived. Aaaah. Shark's fin soup. Furby started a lecture about the poor, poor sharks' blood on the 1000-odd guests' hands tonight and how we should ban shark-killing, when suddenly Bear Man stood up with a grunt, pulled the 10-person soup closer to him, poured in an entire bowl of vinegar, stirred it around, and started scooping the soup sloppily for himself. There was stunned silence. Aghast, the nicer side of the table exchanged "He just emptied a bowlful of vinegar into the soup?" looks among ourselves. Bear Lady went next, swapping the soup bowl with a bigger rice bowl and filled it to the brim. At least she knew enough manners to pass it to her mum and then proceeded to fill another rice bowl to the brim for herself. We timidly waited for The Three Bears to finish before gingerly scooping a little of the soup each, apprehensive of what the concoction would do to our tastebuds. It was repulsive. We shot killer-stares at The Three Bears but they were slurping soup in total bliss. And had second helpings and thirds.

War was officially declared. Eyes of 5 nicely-dressed, determined young women shone with purpose and anger as they swore allegiance to each other to protect our table from the rude invasion of Bear Country or die trying. Obviously The Bears weren't invited guests to the wedding dinner. Fine, Bear Man and Bear Lady were employed to pour beer at the function, but they certainly weren't doing their jobs sitting down at our table. And Gran Bear must have been loitering outside the ballroom, waiting to pounce on innocent, gentle-natured young women like ourselves and gobble down a free 8-course dinner.

We had fun. In a perverse way. Eyeing the dishes brought over by waitresses, chopsticks ready. Once the food plate left the waitress' hands, it became a free-for-all warzone. Chopsticks/ladles clicked and clacked against others', shreds of chicken/fish/prawns flew around the table as we fought for our right as paying, invited guests. It's not about the money we paid. It's about teaching rude fellow countrymen the value of mannerisms by a display of total lack-of-ness. (hey, politeness DON'T work here, okay. They have BEAR skin's thickness!) Furby called for back-up. And it arrived in the form of KC, her boyfriend. Hurrah! We had fun watching his expression as the night progressed. Aghast - disbelief - anger - retaliate.

All in all, eye-opening aside, this wedding dinner had been educational. I learned some dos and don'ts if I ever get married in the future. And being the generous, friendly person I am, here're some tips I want to share:

(1) Never have Skol beer. The ladies are not hot and they bring their entire clan to attack all your food.
(2) Prepare nice name tags for guests, displaying their names and relation to the bride/bridegroom to smoothen the introduction process and those who are seen eating without their tags will be thrown to the streets from the 35th floor.
(3) Never seat alcoholic, stupid-display-of-manliness-inclined boisterous men together. Especially married ones. They will use the wedding dinner as an excuse to get as drunk as possible and yell and screech and laugh and snatch the limelight from you.
(4) Never, ever have karaoke system installed for the night and invite your aunt's brother-in-law, great-uncle's second cousin's husband, the entire troop of under-12 nephews and nieces to sing. They will either make guests lose their appetite, perforate their eardrums (from the pounding beat of Livin' La Vida Loca or conversations carried out in yells and screams), or cause more drunkenness to ensue.
(5) Never allow female guests wearing sexier stuff than the bride's to enter the dinner premise. (Alternative option: Invite more unattractive friends)