The Beat Goes On

I went to what can only be described as the tackiest, pikey "wedding celebration" ever this weekend. A uni mate of CBs got hitched on a tropical island over Christmas. In an obvious effort to milk it for all it was worth, he and his betrothed had a second wedding in the country over the weekend. I don't know if I can do justice in my descriptions to the levels of cheesiness that occurred at this event, but I will give it a shot.

• We had an incling upon checking into the hotel that we may have romanticised the "country wedding" situation. Or at least I had.


• Once in our room it became obvious to me that I am A. Spoiled and B. Germaphobic. CB commented that I was making use of the hotel amenities from go. In reality, after doing my spray tan, there was no amount of money that could have convinced me to walk around barefoot in that room. Not sure if the slippers were much better, but I gave it a go.


• While I spray tanned and pranced around starkers CB sorted the lack of working telly in the room (there was rugby on dontcha know) and managed to end up with the shower knob in his hand long after his bathing was complete.


• We made our way to the suite where the activities were meant to be happening and upon entering received our "complimentary entry drink." Going back to my point about being spoiled, it was once again confirmed. I don't like cheap champagne, I'm sorry Cava. I am not saying I don't like Cava or Presecco, sometimes it's lovely, but this was not. One sip and the glass was immediately left on a table.


• A table with a pink paper cloth laid over it with metallic hearts in the form of confetti sprinkled about and a fake cake. Yes, a fake cake. It was plastic.


• I met the bride and groom who were booted and suited in actual wedding attire. Her dress looked like something out of a bad 80's film and he was sporting a white suit with a hot pink bow tie.


• We found one of our friends and entered the room where we found a square for "disco" in front of a DJ booth which had dark coloured felt draped over the front with Christmas tree lights strung across it. A disco ball above (hence our twigging that it was the dance floor) and a plastic banner on the wall hanging by a piece of cello tape, which said: Happy Wedding Celebration!!!


• The average age of the attendees made it look far more like a funeral then a wedding and we quickly decided mass quantities of alcohol from the "cash bar" were going to be necessary.


• On our way to the bar we spied a wall with a video projection of the actual wedding from Christmas in the Caribbean. Now, I am no genius, but I am pretty sure none of the pasty white guests (except me of course as I had California spray tan at my side) who trudged through about 20 centimetres of snow in 2 degree temperatures to pay £5 for a pint of John Smith's at a hotel charging around £100 a night for horrid accoms were all too happy to be reminded that the happy couple actually spent all their money on the initial wedding which was sunny, warm and had waves crashing in the background. I could be wrong though.


• DJ comes on to announce that the buffet is open but that there aren't enough seats, so could people kindly stand at the bar and eat. CB went to get me a plate as I saved our bar table for 4 in the hopes that 8 of us could crowd round


• He came back with one plate and explained that he didn't think I would really fancy anything at the buffet. I looked around and people had sausage rolls, egg rolls, wraps with cheese and pickle and fruit on toothpicks. CB guessed right, so I ordered another drink.


• We all placed bets on the first dance song. Given the tacky factor we were hopeful that there would be some Westlife, or Boy Zone maybe even a little Take That. We were all wrong. Stevie Wonder crooned from the DJ box while the white and pink couple danced to "I just called to say I love you"

The rest of the evening was a bit more fun, but I reckon that was down to the copious amounts of booze we intook. We got into the cheese factor and danced to music I haven't heard since grade 8 socials. CB was approached by several older relatives of the groom who remembered him from Uni. I thought they were trying to set him up with nieces, granddaughters etc. Turns out they were eyeing him. I guess I am not the only cradle robber in the village.