Vers l'absurde

After all, there were mini grilled cheeses.

So yes, my primary reason for going to New York was that one of my dear friends from college was getting married. If I were to be completely honest, I have to admit that I wasn't really looking forward to it - only one other girl from our college was invited, and I find that girl to be the definition of nitwit, and I couldn't drag Fake Boyfriend along as my date to make things tolerable. Sigh.

But of course, it turned out being a marvelous time. It was the most gorgeous and classiest wedding I've ever been to, hands down, in an old converted bank down on Bowery. All weddings should be this fabulous.

Let's get to the good parts, though.

The cocktail hour involved not only a dumpling bar, a carved meats bar, and a sushi bar. That's right, there was A SUSHI BAR. There was also an enormous table of cold hors d'oeuvres that included tuna carpaccio, several types of ceviche, lots of cheese, and other stuff I can't remember. And the hot waiter-passed hors d'oeuvres had to be my favourite - miniature versions of comfort foods, including crab cakes, lamb chops, grilled cheeses, ahi tartare, and the best ever - MINI MACARONI AND CHEESE.

Of course it was top shelf open bar. Of course we took advantage of it.


But the highlight? The highlight had to be an ice luge. When was the last time you saw one of those outside a frat house? It was awesome. Technically, because it was a classy shindig, the bartender was supposed to pour shots down the luge which you then collected in a cup, the vodka all chilled, and drank from that. HAH! That's for WIMPS! I quickly made friends with other girls who were willing to take shots (obviously the nitwit didn't) off the luge and we had quite a fun time escaping during dinner/dancing to do shots, entertaining the bartender there (whose boss actually carded us - probably because we were the only ones who were using the ice luge for its real intended purpose).


I'd like to point out that NONE of the guys there (save the groom) followed suit, the un-fun idiots. One, when we challenged him, actually replied, "I just graduated from Wharton." So, who gives a shit? If anything, you should be even BETTER at drinking since that's all they do in business school anyway. But all the groom's friends were douchebags - this was agreed upon by all of us girls. Sleazy douchebags who hit on us when their girlfriends weren't looking, who wouldn't dance, and who wouldn't partake in the ice luge fun.


Dinner was spectacular, of course - lobster salad, braised short ribs, and a dessert buffet accompanied by a make-your-own-sundae bar. And lots of gummy bears, which was important for eating after taking shots.

It sounds all chintzy and/or cheesy and/or tacky, these buffets and whatnot, but it really wasn't.

What it was was beautiful and lovely and more fun than a barrel of monkeys and everything a wedding should be.

And even though I had blisters on my feet from all the dancing (and the going out afterward, where we used the wedding favours [yummy sugar cookies stacked in the shape of a wedding cake] to barter discounts on drinks - hence why I didn't make it to bed 'til 5:30am the next day), it was so totally worth it, and future weddings are going to be hard-pressed to live up to this one.