I recently went to the wedding of two friends of mine. The food was delicious, and I made myself sick stuffing my face all night every time something new was set down in front of me.
My favorite part of the wedding (of any wedding, engagement party, communion, or Sweet 16) was the Venetian hour. Very nearly knocking down an elderly woman, I ran toward the open doors like the room I was in had suddenly caught fire.
One of the first guests to enter, I gasped at the pure beauty of the spread. For a moment, I forgot my name and couldn’t remember who I was. All that mattered was where I was – and what I was about to do…go freaking crazy.
I immediately picked up two plates, knowing that they would be filled instantly. I headed straight for the chocolate fountain, grabbing sticks for dear life and stabbing strawberries, rice crispy treats, and marshmallows. I even threw in a few chocolate-covered pretzels for good measure.
After the fountain of happiness, I ran over to the crepes station, and ordered a warm banana crepe with vanilla ice cream. I then grabbed a creme brûlée and a slice of chocolate mousse cake. I carried my 20 dishes balances on each other, struggling to get back to my seat without dropping any of my treats.
I went back to the table and sat by myself. A few minutes later, my friend Rob sat down a few seats down from me. We each took a bite of our dessert and looked at each other.
Similar to two people in love, we gazed into each other’s eyes, almost tearful, both pained and overwhelmed by the feeling overpowering us. Except, instead of feeling love for one another, we were both equally emersed in our love for our desserts.
I fought the urge to get cotton candy and a Chinese-food-style carton to take sweets home in. I decided that being a cafone at a wedding is one thing, but bringing the wedding home with you is out of control.
Also, I couldn’t find the damn cartons.
Do you love the Venetian hour at a wedding? Any good tales you’d like to share?