*In light of the quarantine and the effect it's having on my niece's wedding, I submit this short story I wrote several years ago but which had an odd relevance now. Happy Quarantine, everyone, and may the odds be ever in your favor.
Drive By Reception
By Josi S. Kilpack
Written 2003
“Thank goodness you’re home!” Sharon Harkness said as she threw open the door from the garage and
pulled her husband inside by his tie. The door slammed shut behind him. Sharon
turned toward the kitchen talking quickly as her husband rubbed his sore neck.
“Benny’s throwing a tantrum in the basement and we need to go. It’s the Johnson
girl’s wedding reception tonight.”
Henry Harkness
raised his eyebrows. “What are they serving?” he asked, no longer concerned
with the pain in his neck—meaning the pulled tie, not his wife.
“Oh, you’re as
bad as the children,” his wife said with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her
head. “The invitation didn’t say. Now, go get Benny dressed. He’s been naked
all day long—ugh, potty training. I’ll get the rest of the kids.” She glanced
at the clock and increased her pace down the hall. “We’ll have to hurry if
we’re going to get the car washed in time.”
Eighteen and a
half minutes later, the Harkness family piled into the minivan and headed east
toward Buggy Bubbles—they gave discounts if you showed your invitation. “What
time does the reception start?” fourteen-year-old Josh asked from the back
seat.
“It started at six
o’clock,” Sharon said as she put the final coat of mascara on her thickly clumped
lashes, using the mirror conveniently located on the passenger side visor. She
was dressed in grey sweats and a black T-shirt—perfect for a drive-by reception,
which first and foremost was about comfort and convenience.
“But it’s already
6:10,” Josh whined. “Can’t we skip the carwash? At the Dodson’s reception last
year they were out of Coke by the time we got to the drink station. I had to
get Sprite zero.”
Sharon turned and
glared at her son. “What does it take to teach kids manners these days?” She
shook her bleached blonde head. “You do not go to a reception in a dirty
car, Joshua. Didn’t you see how soiled the bride's dress was that night? It was
absolutely disgraceful that she had to brush up against so many dirty cars all
evening.”
There was a line
at Buggy Bubbles seeing as how it was prime wedding season. As they waited their
turn, Henry was wondering what drinks would be served. The last reception
they’d attended had only given out bottled water—water! It had been a huge disappointment
since it was mostly the booze that Henry was interested in at these things. He remembered
with fondness the open bar at the Kirkham’s wedding last fall. He’d gone home
with two beers and a mini-bottle of Jack Daniels. He hoped the Johnson’s would
be similarly accommodating. It was Friday night and the end of a very long work
week. He could use a good drink to get the weekend off on the right foot.
“Oh, here it is,”
Sharon said nearly twenty minutes later, squirming with excitement as a huge pink
and teal balloon arch came into view at the entrance to the reception center.
She flipped up the mirror on the car visor again and adjusted her hair for the
upteenth time. The kids stopped fighting, or at least turned down the volume,
and Henry, realizing he was still in his tie, quickly slipped the knot out and
stashed it under the seat. He was still overdressed in his pressed white shirt
and dress pants, but after wrestling Benny into his superman pajamas, he hadn’t
had time to change.
They followed the
signs and pulled into the east entrance of the looping outdoor reception
facility, the one-way road curving through the immaculate lawns. As they were
in the city, this was a more suburban reception center, without woods or themed
stops like some places, but its convenience to the car washes proved a valuable
aspect. There were no canopies set up along the route, since the weather was so
good, but each stop had the old fashioned light post that directed the car to
stop and to go in forty-five second increments.
A young man in a tuxedo approached the car at the first stop. His name read “Brandon
McCormick—Brother of the Groom.”
“Pink means go,
teal means stop. Here’s your program.” Brandon passed the paper through the
window and stepped back. Sharon thanked him, but he was already out of earshot.
She grabbed the paper from her husband and eagerly scanned it as the light
turned pink and Henry moved forward. It was a sad crush, but that meant there
was plenty of time to read the program.
“This is odd,” Sharon
said after a moment. Henry pulled slowly forward behind a long line of cars.
“From 6:00 to 7:00 the parents of the bride will be on the driver’s side and
the parents of the groom will be on the passenger side. At 7:00 they switch
places.”
“Don’t they
usually have the parents at separate stops?” Josh asked from the back, poking
his head between the two front seats of the suburban.
“They always have
them separate,” Sharon said with a click of her tongue. She looked at her husband.
“They really should have told us that on the invitation so that we could plan accordingly.
We’ll have to manage two different conversations from both sides of the car.
Awkward, to say the least.”
Henry nodded absently
as he tried to look ahead of the other cars for a glimpse of the drink station.
A few minutes
later they reached the smiling bride and groom. The bride leaned through the
window to say hello to each of the kids, and Sharon gave Josh a triumphant
look. She’d been right about the importance of having the car washed. They
“oooed” and “ahhed” appropriately and then their forty-five seconds were up,
indicated by the station light turning pink. They said farewell and moved on.
The next station
featured the parents of the bride and groom, both couples leaning in from their
designated sides. Since the Harkness family was acquainted with the bride,
Sharon was forced to make meaningless conversation with complete strangers
until their light turned mercifully pink, and the Harkness family said goodbye.
Henry was able to talk politics with Eric Johnson—lucky!
Henry spotted the
drink station a few stops ahead. He considered asking Sharon to change places
so that he could enjoy his drinks immediately, but the program stated in big
bold letters that guests were not allowed out of their cars. He took a deep breath
and came to a stop at the guest book station. The book was passed to them by the
bride’s little sister, Julia. She was decked out in a pink version of
Cinderella’s gown and looked pleased as punch with the whole situation and her
vital role at the reception. They spent forty-five seconds at
this stop, and she was still going on and on about the ceremony when the light
turned pink. The car behind them honked and Sharon scowled into her side mirror;
the program expressly stated that no honking was allowed. “How rude,” she
muttered under her breath.
“When do we get
our food?” Clara whined from the back seat. “I’m staaaaaaarving.”
The next step
confused them, there seemed to be no purpose to it—the food station, complete
with a kitchen built to look like a charming cottage—was one stop ahead. Food
always followed the guest book. A young man stepped forward, “Good evening, I’m
Clark, the best man, and I’ll be taking your order for your individual, custom refreshment bags.” He had a headset on like the ones worn at McDonalds.
“What a great
idea!” Sharon said, bouncing slightly in her seat. “What are our choices?”
Clark rattled off
several candy bars and brands of chips. There was also string cheese, snack
pack pudding cups, Go-gurt, and surprises for guests twelve years of age and
younger. The kids went wild, and each person in the car chose three of the
aforementioned treats—not including the surprise. Henry wondered if he’d be
able to order from a wine list as inclusive as this snack list. His mouth began
to water as the best man relayed their food orders into the headset with each
occupants name for proper distribution. He gave them a thumbs up sign at the
same time the light turned from teal to pink and waved them on.
Their refreshment
bags were waiting at the food station just a few yards ahead and handed through
the window by one of two bridesmaids at this station. The kids cheered, digging
into their bags to find their surprises. The boys got miniature water guns and
the girls got plastic bracelets—all of which ended up on the floor before the
light could change. Josh was very vocal about it not being fair that he didn’t
get a prize just cause he wasn’t under the age of 12. He loved water guns. A
third bridesmaid with a headset like the best man’s stepped up to the passenger
side window. “What would you like to drink at the next stop? Soft drinks or
cranberry juice?” the bridesmaid asked.
“What about
champagne or a beer?” Henry asked in dismay.
She cocked her
head to the side. “We decided against serving alcohol, for safety purposes.”
Henry’s face fell. They should have mentioned that on the invitation! He’d have
sent Sharon with the kids and had a half an hour at home all to himself.
The girl
continued. “Oh, and we need you to sign this disclaimer sheet stating that you
understand the wedding party is not responsible for any injury or accident
sustained during the reception.”
Sharon signed her
name on the clipboard the bridesmaid handed her while Henry continued to glower
on his side of the car. He didn’t even want his stupid Nut Roll and BBQ chips
anymore. Well, maybe the chips.
They pulled ahead
as the kids gobbled their goodies.
“Remember the hot
dogs at the Dodson’s wedding?” Josh commented. Henry couldn’t help but smile at
the memory, temporarily forgetting his disappointment over the prohibition.
“That was a very
unfortunate decision, even if it did fit the theme of World Series” Sharon said
with a shake of her head. “By the end of the evening all the bridesmaids were
covered in ketchup and mustard—poor planning, for sure.”
Josh continued to
laugh as he unwrapped his snickers bar. At the drink station, the groomsman
began handing drinks through the driver’s side window.
“Why no lids?”
Henry asked as he carefully passed the plastic soda bottles to each person in
the van.
The groomsman
leaned in close, as if not wanting to be overheard. “Last summer,” he
whispered, “some wedding guests threw lids at the ushers as they exited because
they were angry about not having a bar. We decided to remove the caps rather than
sign the projectile damage and injury addendum. The wedding couple would be
liable for hefty fines and damages if the guests did not behave themselves. No
one wants to start marriage with debt.”
“I think that’s a
very sensible decision,” Sharon said. She’d had to lean halfway across the car
to hear the explanation. Henry wasn’t above throwing objects in his current
state of disappointment. Where were those water guns the kids had received? He
could get some speed behind one of those if he took a minute to loosen up his
shoulder.
They chatted for
a few more seconds until the station light turned green, then they moved ahead
to the gift table. Sharon handed the beautifully wrapped gift to Henry to hand
to the groomsman, but the young man put up his hand and shook his head. “Please
remove the paper, Ma’am.”
“What?”
“To ensure the safety
of all guests and attendees, we are unable to accept wrapped packages. Please
remove the paper.”
Sharon scowled,
but she did as she was asked, undoing her perfectly looped tulle bow and trying
to remove the paper carefully enough to save—she hoped this wasn’t
a new fad that would gain traction. Henry handed the set of Tupperware to
the groomsman who put it on the table without even looking at it. It was really nice Tupperware.
“Thank you,” he
said. “Now, would you prefer a card, an email, or a faxed thank you?”
“Oh, a card, for
sure,” Sharon said with a nod. “It’s the most personal.”
The groomsman
nodded, pulled a card from his inside pocket, and handed it through the window.
Sharon thanked him and opened the card, inscribed with the wedding couple’s
names—Ellie and Logan—on the front.
“Oh, listen,
Henry,” Sharon said as they headed toward the exit. She paused to clear her
throat in an attempt to keep the emotion out of her reading voice. “’Friends
like you are what life is all about. Thank you for your support and
encouragement on this, the happiest day of our lives.’ And it’s printed in teal,
one of the wedding colors. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Very sweet,”
Henry commented as they stopped at the final group of bridesmaids and groomsmen
who hadn’t had a duty thus far. A young man with an acne problem approached the
car and handed them a jar that said “Tips”
Sharon and Henry
stared at the jar with confusion. “Iths a tip jaw,” the groomsman said with an
unfortunate lisp. “To Covew the expentheth of the Gwoomthmen and
bwidethmaidth.”
Sharon began
scouring the car for loose change. After a frenzied search, she deposited
seventy-nine cents in the jar and smiled nervously, her face red with embarrassment.
“Thank you,” the groomsman
said. He didn’t look very impressed. “Youw hewp ith much appwethiated.”
Sharon nodded as
they pulled away and then collapsed against her seat. “How humiliating,” she
muttered with a shake of her head. "I'll make sure to have more change on hand next time, or bring some cash. I had no idea."
Henry reached the
street and looked both ways. It was 6:47, the whole reception had taken them
less than thirteen minutes. At least he had time to make it to the liquor store
before they closed at seven.
“What did you
guys put in your refreshment bags when you got married?” Clara asked as she
finished the last of her tapioca pudding cup.
“Oh, well, we
didn’t have refreshment bags back then.”
The kids went
silent. “You didn’t?” Clara asked once the shock faded.
“Oh no. Back in
the old days the guest had to get out their cars and go inside the building.
The food was usually laid out on tables and you filled up little plastic plates
with what you wanted.”
“Gross!” Josh
exclaimed. “Isn’t that against health code?”
“Not back then,”
Sharon said with a sigh. “Receptions are much more guest oriented these days—taking
into account everyone’s busy schedules. At our reception people had to get
dressed up, stand in line, and shake hands with everyone in the wedding party.”
“You’re kidding!”
Clara said with absolute shock. “That is so weird.”
Sharon and Henry
shared a smile. “Well, it had a certain charm to it,” Sharon said as Henry
pulled into the liquor store drive thru.
He rolled down his
window but a sniffle from his wife stopped him. He turned to see her blinking back tears.
“What’s the matter, dear?”
“Oh,” she said
with a trembling voice as she began fishing in the glove compartment for a
stray napkin. “I just love weddings.”
