The Adventures and Discoveries of a Feminist Bride by Majkut Katrina

Author:Majkut, Katrina [Majkut, Katrina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amazon, NonFiction
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2018-02-27T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The Wedding Reception:

Cake in Your Face and

Other Sexual Innuendos

As a party aficionado, I give my best at wedding receptions. While other people find it a good time to check their smart phones, I will watch the newlyweds feed each other food no matter how sexual I find it. I will pass the toilet paper and not judgment when the bride asks me to photograph her taking a dump on the toilet because she thinks it’s funny (true story). And I will follow up on my promise to not show the photo to anyone except her. When another guest inexplicably throws some dollar bills on the dance floor, I will run and slide my knees onto them and seamlessly skim across an Amish barn dance floor like I’m Kevin Bacon in Footloose without putting a run in my pantyhose and yell, “Let’s party!” (another true story).

Giving my all at wedding receptions is not always easy. Sometimes my all gets the best of me. For one wedding ceremony, I found myself marooned atop a Michigan ski mountain after a late summer deluge. There I found myself faced with a moral conundrum, who will drink all this uncorked champagne lest it go bad? After being rescued by not a Saint Bernard with rum but a minivan with more champagne, I somehow managed to make it to the first dance coherent. When Michigan’s esteemed music icon Kid Rock started playing, the champagne kicked in, and I careened out of control.

Quarantining myself to a side room, I became a character out of a Masterpiece Theatre movie, like a brooding Mr. Rochester or Heathcliff. There I sat in a leather reading chair and stared languidly into the fire in a desperate attempt to grab hold of myself. Over the next hour or so, friends would visit with a sympathetic glass of water listening to me incoherently mumble about consuming too much like a regretful Cookie Monster. Driven by this internal greedy and hungry monster, though, I mustered enough balance to saunter over to the grand piano covered in cupcakes. I took one look at them, exclaimed “Nope!” ran outside and promptly puked into the golf club’s azaleas. My last ditch attempt to not be the worst person at the wedding reception was to, at least, not be the first to leave. So I sat outside on the curb with my head in my hands waiting for the curbside ex-convict guest (who had just been released from prison) to leave before I did.

I succeeded with a few things that night. One, I out partied a convict who wasn’t allowed to party at all due to his ankle bracelet. Two, I ruined some gardener’s day. And three, I survived long enough to witness the most important traditions during the wedding so when the newlyweds complained about my conduct I could recall what happened with the same clarity as any other sober schmo. And it’s the details of all those reception traditions that I explored with my trusty sidekick, feminism.

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