Last weekend I went to Atlanta. I know. Who goes to Atlanta in July? But Captain’s friend was getting married, the hotel was paid for and I’ve never been to an Indian wedding before, so I might as well check that off.
We fly the afternoon of July 4th. Captain tells me,
“We may be sharing a room with another couple.”
“WHAT?” I didn’t pack all my extra underwear to share a room with some randoms.
But we lucked out. They had the same reaction I did and went off in search of their own room.
We receive our itinerary for the weekend. Fireworks, dancing and ice cream Friday night. Saturday morning breakfast will be served from 6am-8am. The groom’s guests should be in the hotel lobby at 8:45am for the wedding and the bride’s guests should be in the lobby at 9:45am.
I wish I were here for the bride, that would be a whole extra hour of sleep.
I tell Captain,
“I’m going to get up at 8:15.”
“What about breakfast?”
What about it? “There is no way I’m getting up before 8am.”
Captain gets up a little after 7 for breakfast. There’s chai, but no coffee. I made the right decision. I roll out of bed and put on my full wedding gear. I wish I had a sari. I eat the granola bar that came in our welcome bag.
We head to the lobby. The groom looks amazing. He’s very sparkly. I approve. Parasols are handed out. What is going on? My brain is only half functioning. It’s 9am and I haven’t had coffee. I’m handed a bright orange parasol. I see other people getting hot pink ones. My brain is working enough to hand Captain my orange parasol and ask for a pink one. Everyone is directed outside.
We are herded to the end of the hotel driveway. There is a large parade float with a tiger statue. The groom and his family climb aboard. Music starts blasting. Everyone starts dancing. The float inches back toward the hotel. I learn that in India it’s customary for the groom to go to the bride’s house. So since the hotel is functioning as the “bride’s house,” we have to leave the hotel and return to it.
Everyone on the float is dancing and the mass of people in the hotel driveway around the float are dancing. Cars and people unrelated to the wedding are still trying to come and go from the hotel. A video-camera drone is flying overhead. And I still need coffee. One hour goes by. The float has moved 50 yards and we are back at the hotel. The bride looks gorgeous. She’s even more sparkly than the groom.
We head to the ballroom for the wedding. There’s a juice box and a bag of trail mix on everyone’s seat. One of Captain’s coworkers who is originally from Nepal tells me,
“The wedding is very long. When I got married, I was bored and it was my own wedding.”
Oh dear. A couple hours go by. A hotel staff member tells us,
“Lunch is served.”
This is exciting. I didn’t realize we were getting lunch. In the ballroom next door there is a delicious buffet. Captain and I stuff ourselves and head upstairs for a nap. We want to be ready for the reception and dinner in the evening.
That night we find Captain’s coworkers at the party. One asks,
“What’d you do after lunch?”
“We took a nap.”
“You didn’t go back to the wedding?”
“What? The wedding was still going on?”