Sunday, January 2, 2011

The Vampire Who Came to the Wedding

The Vampire Who Came to the Wedding

My cousin Stacey was getting married.  She is the daughter of my cousin Carole, who was formally known as Rocky Toledo.  A funny story in and of itself but saved for another day.

Stacey had asked me to be in the wedding party.  I readily agreed.

Stacey chose Black and White as her wedding colors, something that was very unusual at the time.  I started thinking about that.

If I was going to wear this formal black attire at a Black and White wedding, I thought I could spice things up a little by adding fangs and a cape.  My wife although strongly disapproving of my idea, did not interfere.

We arrived in NY and stayed in Manhattan.  The wedding was on Long Island. 

The day of the wedding we took a cab to my cousin Carole’s one bedroom apartment where my mother, father, aunt, my aunt’s husband and Stacey (for one night, she lived in Connecticut) were all staying along with my Stacey’s father, Larry.

My wife and I arrived in the early afternoon. I, Stacey, Carole and Larry would take the Limo early to the catering hall for pictures and a rehearsal.  My wife, parents, aunt and uncle would follow later by car.

Everything was a little tense in the apartment what with Carole and Stacey trying to get dressed with only one bathroom and my mother and aunt hovering around offering unsolicited advice.  They loved giving unsolicited advice, most of it totally without merit.

The Limo came and the four of us got in. 

I had put on my cape and inserted my fangs. I thought it was funny, so did Stacey.  Carole not so much. But she chose (a most usual choice for her) not to make a scene about it.

We arrived at the Catering Hall.

The groom and his parents and brothers were all there.  The mother of the groom came over to the Limo to say hello.  She had never met me before, nor had any other member of the groom’s family.

She came up to the window, we rolled it down and she saw me fangs, cape and all.  Her eyes widened, she turned pale.  She mumbled something like “You look lovely”, to Stacey and quickly retreated to her own Limo as far from me as possible.  She avoided me all night. In fact never spoke with me again.

We all entered the catering hall.  The groom, his brothers and Stacey’s brother, also in the wedding party, seemed to find my choice of accessories amusing.

We hung around while pictures were taken prior to the rehearsal.

My cousin Carole had chosen a spectacular dress.  It was all black, sequined, low cut in both the front and back, and looked somewhat like a flamingo dancer’s dress.

She was concerned the straps of the dress were slipping off her shoulders. 

I saw an opportunity to have a little fun at her expense.

I was paired with her son as ushers walking down the aisle.  We took our positions opposite each other about half way down. 

I innocently suggested to him that we whisper “Carole, your dress is falling down” as she passed us going down the aisle.

It had its desired effect.  She stopped to look around and check her dress, everyone laughed and we got on with the rehearsal.

She grabbed me outside the chapel.

“Idiot, moron, what are you doing?  I am nervous enough as it is” she exclaimed.  I agreed not to do it doing the actual ceremony. Relieved she went back to mingling with the arrived guests.

My cousin Emil, her son, didn’t get the memo.

When Carole passed our position I heard him say, “Ma, your dress is falling down”.

There is some debate as to what happened next.

I seem to remember her backhanding him as she continued down the aisle.  It certainly makes for a better story that way so I’m sticking with it.

At any rate she was not amused (I seem to get that a lot) and blamed me.  It was funny.

The wedding continued.

Stacey looked beautiful and stylish (she worked in a bridal salon at the time) and the ceremony went off unimpeded.

Everyone was happy. 

I even got to take some pictures with the cape and fangs with my cousin Carole. She came to realize the humor of the situation. We all had a good time, so good, the brothers kept asking me “Are you sure you’re married?”

Even after assuring them I was and pointing out my very pretty wife, they still had doubts. 

I wasn’t quite sure why they were asking. 

My wife strongly suggested it had to do with my perceived maturity level, but I took it as a compliment.

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