The Thing from the Expo!

The teeming masses filled my vision in every direction, a never ending feeding frenzy that simply could not be withstood. They moved as one, converging on first one location, then another, in a steady, single minded stream of mayhem. The exits were blocked. I could not escape. Nor could I avoid detection for long. There was no way out.

There was no way out.

There was no way out.

"Sweetie," My Betrothed said, shaking me, "get up! We've got to go to the bridal show today!"

"Oh!" I said, glad to wake up to her smiling face from the nightmare I had been having. On to the Bridal Expo!

Did I mention I don't like crowds? I think I did.

Let's back up a ways.

My Betrothed and I arrived from opposite ends of the state to attend the show I mentioned in last week's post. The first thing she did was open up the envelope that had our tickets in it. Along with the passes and various essential information were our name tags.

Hers:



And mine:



Ahem. "Guest." My Betrothed is the "Bride" but I'm just a "Guest." I see. Now, I understand, of course, that many brides choose to go to these things with their bridesmaids, mothers, friends, et cettra. But could there have been, perhaps, a box on the website that she could have checked to get a "Groom" nametag? No? Just asking.

We arrived at the convention center, and a slow steady trickle of people (admittedly, mostly women) were converging upon it. We walked in the front doors and were immediately met with a string quartet playing Pachelbel's Canon in D. There were big giveaways (with, of course, strings attached) in the lobby, but My Betrothed pulled me to the registration booth. We were given a big bag full of flyers and things. I pointed at my (still blank) "Guest" name-tag, and started to ask the person behind the desk about it. Without a word, she took the tag from me, and handed me this:



I was thrilled. I was ready. Into the fray!

The fray turned out to be rooms full of vendors, looking like some sort of Mirror, Mirror universe version of ComicCon. Except, of course, that in the Mirror, Mirror universe characters who were normally clean shaven wore goatees. In this universe, the thousands of unwashed, goatee'd geeks were replaced by beardless, mostly well groomed brides to be.

There were still lots of booths with expensive things that people want but don't need, and, oddly enough, some "booth-babes." I wouldn't have thought using frighteningly skinny women in bikinis would be an effective way to attract the attention of brides, but apparently the people at the sunless tanning booths seemed to disagree.

No, I did not snap a picture of that. My Betrothed was holding my hand and I was not about to start taking pictures of mostly naked women.

We stopped by several booths with photographers. Before the Expo we were pretty close to choosing one. Now we aren't. My Betrothed (who had attended this event with her sister the year before, for a wedding now nearing its first anniversary) bemoaned that there were not nearly as many caterers with food samples this year. We passed a booth advertising a string quartet (this one with a recording rather than live players). Oddly enough, this booth was also playing Canon in D. The crowd was beginning to get to me, when I saw a light at the end of the tunnel:



Booze. Yes, there were samples of booze. There were also open cash bars, but I didn't think that was a good idea. Not that having a full sized drink sounded bad, but buying one did not appeal to me. The picture above is of a kind of pre-mixed champagne cocktail. It was alcopop. It would have to do. Then we rounded the corner and found a booth for a local winery. Free tasting! Ka-ching!

Yes, there are vineyards in Arizona. Some of them are even decent. Get used to it! When California falls into the Pacific, the climate here will be even better, too.

We also saw some flower arrangers that caught our eyes. I understand flowers are important in this sort of thing. Oh, and we passed yet another booth playing Canon in D.

Towards the end, the crowds began getting to both of us. A few vendors who we had hoped to see were not there (if I had read the website more carefully, I would have known that). By the time we got to the end, where the Bridal Fashion Show was, the models were done walking the catwalk, and had decided that they were too sexy for their bouquets, which they threw everywhere. So we tried for the exit and it was closed.

There was no way out.

There was no way out.

We would have to turn around and battle our way through this:



We traveled upstream, like salmon going to spawn. Eventually we made it back to the entrance, which was the only sanctioned exit. We passed, again, the live string quartet at the doors. We stopped and listened. We asked them to play "All You Need is Love." (Love, Actually FTW!) As we turned to go, thoroughly enchanted, they began playing Canon in D again.

Then we spent the day helping my Impending Sister in Law, and my Impending Brother in Law put together my Impending Nephew's Ikea furniture (he's due very soon. His name is the subject of some contention, though. "Brady Zac" is not his official name. Sadly, Joaquin isn't either. This feud is mostly between people who aren't the parents.) If there's one thing Ikea knows, it's how to make baby furniture in a way that really hurts to put together. Ow.

Afterward, on our drive home, My Betrothed turned to me and spoke. She had been battered by a morning of over-stimulation and an afternoon of hand-numbing hex-wrench twisting.

"I'm glad we went to the Bridal Show," she said.

"Me, too," I agreed.

"Can you put that part in the blog?"

"Sure."

And unlike the exchange and dream sequence that opened this post, that last conversation actually happened. And we both actually meant it. In the end, after all the over-exposure to the Wedding Industrial Complex, and all the rest, we took away some valuable information about photography and booze that may well prove invaluable. We've scheduled meetings with two photographers, and will probably go to a wine tasting this weekend. And I like to think that we reaffirmed that there are some things we don't want in a wedding.

Like the bizarre foundation garments meant to hide large bottoms or pad small ones.

Or fake tans.

Or 3-D wedding videos.

I could go on.

I realize that, no matter what we do, some things are constants. Pachelbel's Canon in D will be at our wedding in some shape or form, no matter how hard we may try to avoid it.

But that doesn't matter. Because there will be booze. I mean love. It's all around us. It's all you need.

~G2B