mom, dad, I’m engaged

August 28, 2007

      Matt and I attended a wedding reception at a typical Azri palace; while we didn’t know the couple or any of the other 250 guests, be assured tho that every guest KNEW us.  The Stairs of Death are polished faux marble and approx 57 steps high; they guard the tables heaped with food and alcoholic (vodka).  With the promise of dancing in front of 250 people, (vodka), no air conditioning and having ourselves forever immortalized in the (non) happy couples wedding portrait, I (we) braved certain slippage, and made it up the steps in wedge heels.  20 min, 2 shots later and nearly suffocating from heat, we went outside for a ‘break’.  I made the mistake of grabbing Matt’s arm on the way down to insure that if (when) I fell, that I wouldn’t be lonely in a body cast in Baku Hospital.  Meracurasley there was no spectacular acrobatics display, however, the bride’s brother had seen my sly arm grab.  30 min, 3 shots, 2 pictures(one smiling, one not smiling), 2 video cameras in our faces and 10 ill (wicked ill) dance moves later, we tried to exit.  The bride’s brother, mother, uncle, father and a various assortment of the groom’s family accosted us with questions, congratulations, and wishes of many children; we confusedly mumbled a mix of Azri/English answers, while simultaneously trying to figure out who/when/how/why we had become engaged/married.  (Some guests prolly still say we are married, while others contest that we are merely engaged due to me not owning/wearing any sort of bling but still in possession of all my teeth.)  The Stairs of Death allowed us lose the majority of the group at the top as we flew down them at an alarmingly fast pace considering the heat/time/alcohol/wedge heels/slipperiness/no food all day ratio.  Only the brother made it to the bottom; then stopped us dead in our tracks by asking in perfect English, “When are you getting married, where in AZ will you have the wedding, will your parents visit, and do they approve?’  Having had approx 10 seconds (while on the stairs) to pull a consistent story out of our fine behinds, we took turns responding with the following (in a serious and thoughtful manner) “Our parents really want us to get married in the States.  We don’t know when, we will be here for 2 years. An AZ wedding would be nice; maybe we’ll have two weddings?  We think our parents will visit us here, so maybe?  We don’t know really, anything could happen.”  We shrugged our shoulders, held hands, dropped the ‘honey’ bomb and in general gave the perfect picture of soon to be martial bliss.  Our salvation came in the form of an air conditioned black BMW SUV that whisked us back to Jorat.

While in our swank rescue BMW, we finally figured out what started the fire.  It was the arm grab, my stupid clutch at safety, the scandalous PDA of arms touching, the blasted, innocent ‘arm grab’   Beware,

One Response to “mom, dad, I’m engaged”

  1. siologen said

    By the sounds of many of your entries, id take to wearing a faux wedding ring if i was you.

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