** note: After some careful, painful, *sob*s-filled thinking, I am re-publishing this post, but only after running it through what you might call a heavy-gauge editorial miter saw. The original post was a little controversial, but now, it's back on the scene, crispy and clean. **
I wasn’t ever officially, formally “invited” to the wedding, so I didn’t even get to crash it in a fun way. But I still had fun. If I get invited to a wedding two weeks before, I am going to make damn well sure that I get my chipper chicken or siffit."
Oh boy, did I have way. Too. Much. Fun.
Disney Concert Hall
111 South Grand Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90012
The wedding was held at the Disney Concert Hall downtown in the late afternoon. The appointed time was not when the ceremony started, but the beginning of a Cocktail Hour, which was, of course, not mentioned on the unofficial email invitation I received. Perhaps the happy couple secretly planned it that way, listing a time on the invitation that would allow people to be a half hour late in their own minds, but really be a half hour early for the actual ceremony. I would like to think, though, that they didn’t plan the ceremony’s “delay,” pissing off all the older Korean folk who just came for the reception dinner anyway. My suspicion is that the ceremony's delay was a last-minute forced decision.
Disney Concert Hall is a gorgeous venue and it was a gorgeous time of day – if it’s December. The ceremony was to be held outside in the courtyard, and apparently, nailing down your wedding venue in November, you kind of don’t realize that in June, it will be 2,000 degrees out there in the courtyard. Sunlight reflects off the shiny metal-panelled exterior that makes you think you are an architecture student and think to yourself, “that is a spectacular display of artistry in architecture,” but in reality, transforms a wedding courtyard into some sick space age boiler room in the bottom of Buck Rogers’ ship.
So rather than shuffling all the guests into the giant 500 degree pizza oven that was the couryard and baking them into one giant human kimchee pizza with lovely floral toppings, the Franz and Hank wedding coordinators must have made some emergency calls to the caterer to do an impromptu Cocktail Hour inside the lobby of the Concert Hall.
The caterers did a good job. We had hors d’ouevre. They were as fabulous as pre-wedding ceremony passed hors d’ouevre could be – tiny, pretty, precious little things that I fully ignored because I was interested in...the young men in white jackets who were lined up like soldiers along the wall of the lobby holding out small round trays of..."ooh, is that Champagne?” *bats eyelashes* Who knows, perhaps it was sparkling wine. I didn’t care. I snatched one up when he had first walked in, and by the time we had sailed through the lobby to the Guest sign-in book, I had finished it and picked up my second glass.
The ceremony was fine, but good Lord, even after waiting an hour for it to cool down, it was still hotter than Hades out in the courtyard. The wedding party had very thoughtfully provided each guest with a wooden folding fan, but once the mercury has reached that pooint, you’re just moving hot air around. The bride and her attendants were beautiful. The vows were sweet, and when the groom’s voice cracked, I’m sure he was moved, but I also think the poor guy needed a glass of ice cold Gatorade.
I don’t remember much after the ceremony. The five glasses (maybe it was six) of Champagne I had during the Cocktail Hour stayed sufficiently dormant during the ceremony, then hit me like a lethal injection of controlled substances straight into my carotid as we moved into the Reception. It’s a blur in the beginning - like a brown-out - where there's light and dark in waves. I vaguely remember the Korean wedding ceremony called a "peh-bek."
I am (not) proud to say that after that, it was a complete blackout. But people witnessed the crime, and have relayed the following information about my “behavior” to me.
And, for the record, it is my understanding that neither the bride nor groom are aware of my behavior (unless you guys are reading this right now. Hi guys!), and I in no way intended to act like a complete fool. It just happened that way on the way to "fun."
At the open bar, I screamed “Fuck, yeah!” and high-fived a friend as we were walking past him into the reception area.
At the table of “unofficially invited at the last minute” guests, I chatted up everyone. Everyone. And I have no idea what I said. I might have pretended to be Lucy Liu. Or maybe Bai Ling.
During the introduction of the wedding party, I screamed “Take your shirt off!” when the emcee announced one of the groomsmen. Even better, the bride’s mother was standing right behind me.
After the Bride’s father made a thank you speech, I referred to him as Long Duck Dong to the rest of the table.
I ate the garnish only on every dish that came to the table, then tried to eat the garnish off a stranger’s plate when he left to go to the bathroom.
Speaking of going to the bathroom...I got up to go to the bathroom at least five times in the span of an hour. I have no idea what I did in there. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t even go to the bathroom, and actually wandered the streets of downtown and came back, lipgloss totally refreshed each time.
I spied the wedding cake in the corner of the dancefloor and screeched “I want some birthday cake!” Birthday cake? Uh, check, please. At that point, we got up and quietly exited, stage left.
We stumbled back to the car – rather, he stumbled as he tried to keep control of me, basically flailing about the streets of downtown LA like a skeleton-less flamingo with its head cut off. Somewhere between exiting the wedding and making it to the car, I did the following, though I don’t know in which order: took off my shoes, sat down on the sidewalk of Figueroa and refused to get up (but eventually did ), tried to crash another party that was being held at the MOCA, tried to “make friends” with an elderly tourist couple that were out on an evening stroll, and threw up.
That’s classy. Yes, I was "that" girl at the wedding. It was (not) one of my finer moments and a moment that will never ever happen again. I am NOT PROUD.
But I am quite sure I had fun.
Definitely worth the entire bedding set I sent them.