Jun 10, 2008
drunken noodles and white weddings
I just got home from dinner with my newly married friends. I hadn't seen them since the wedding, which I realize I never described. It was very nice. The reception was at the zoo, of all places, in the swamp exhibit, so the guests from out of town (95 percent) could see nutria frolicking while eating steamed asparagus.
It really was quite lovely.
Of course, the crowd was very...ummm...white.
Here are a few random snatches of conversation I remember:
"Yes, the fellowship to Paris begins next month. I'm kind of dreading it."
"Barcelona is so overdone."
"Yeah, like when I was climbing in Montana I nearly backclipped. Dude, that was scary."
"Apple is totally back."
"She just moved to Park Slope, can you believe it? It's tragic."
The crowd was made up of the groom's and bride's undergrad friends from Yale, and their newly minted grad friends from Harvard.
Oh, and us.
Anyway, I hadn't seen them since the wedding, so it was nice to catch up. For some reason I didn't get the chance tonight...and didn't have the energy to mention that I'd been nearly killed on the night of the rehearsal dinner in a pretty horrible accident. It never seemed to come up. Instead we talked about their honeymoon and lots of work talk.
(to paraphrase from above) "Tragic."
I did manage to get them to go to our local Thai restaurant, since no one else will go with me. All the friends with whom I used to go have either moved away or don't like it anymore. I don't think I've won any converts, but they were good natured enough to indulge me. The best part of the night is that I got to have my old standard, drunken noodles, again for the first time in a year.