A VIEW FROM THE CHEAP SEATS
By Rich Trzupek
When Good Weddings Go Bad
There are few gatherings as much fun as a wedding reception. It�s got everything, the drama of throwing family members together who would not ordinarily be seen in the same state, much less the same room; the emotion of an unmistakable milestone; the romance of new tomorrows, and a whole lot of drunks. Weddings are a blast.
Being of the Polish persuasion, your humble correspondent has generally attended receptions of that ilk. Back in the eighties, for example, my ex and I were the only caucasion invitees to an otherwise entirely black south-side wedding. It was a hoot, although it did serve to demonstrate that white men not only can�t jump, they can�t dance.
Out on the dance floor, working my hardest to find the beat, I noticed that every couple was bobbing up and down in precise rhythm with the music, save one. You can probably guess who. We looked like a couple of spastic prairie dogs, our heads popping up precisely out of sync.
There is no practical danger of embarrassment at a Polish wedding, where the polka is the dance of choice. Theoretically, the polka has both steps and a rhythm�one, two, three�STOMP. Practically, a guy can get by whipping his partner around until she begs for a barf bag and the gal simply has to hang on for dear life. It�s the X-Games� version of dancing.
The dance also has amazing recuperative powers, especially among accomplished polka officiandos. Old Uncle Stosh would get wheeled into the reception hall, looking for all the world like a coronary was seconds away. Then some spry young niece would ask him to dance to the �She�s Too Fat� polka.
Stosh would always refuse at first, coughing pitifully for effect. She would insist. Finally, reluctantly, Stosh would disconnect his oxygen, pry himself out of his wheelchair and shuffle towards the dance floor. And once his feet touched parquet�the transformation would take place.
Uncle Stosh would positively fling himself around the dance floor, stepping and stomping to a rhythm all his own, whirling his partner in a a frenzied blur. Anyone foolish enough to get in his way received a hip check, sending the pair flying from the floor, that would have done an NHL goon proud.
Polish heritage also demands that everyone drink a shot dedicated to the happy couple. When my second-oldest brother got married, this particular tradition went horribly awry.
The wedding reception was held at a terribly fancy banquet hall in Lake County, one much too high-falutin� for a bunch of south-side goofballs.
Lil� bro and I brought booze and shot glasses, as tradition demanded. We did not realize that local authorities frowned on such traditions.
We were happily pouring shots at a table when the banquet hall�s assistant manager, a thirty-something dandy dressed in a thousand dollar suit, flounced up to us, quivering with indignence. He was also carrying a bucket.
�Stop that right now!� he fumed, slamming his bucket down. �That�s illegal. You�ll pour those shots out into this bucket�right now!�
Lil� bro dutifully complied, or he tried to. He tossed the shot glass he filled toward the bucket, but somehow missed the mark. The shot hit the assistant manager square in the middle of his Armani, sending whiskey dribbling down his chest.
Taking my sib�s cue, I upended the bottle of booze in my hand onto our antagonist�s leg, adding a stream of Tequila soaking onto his pants leg to complete the ensemble. For some odd reason, this seemed to disturb the fellow.
�You�re going to jail,� he screamed at my bro, �and you�re going to jail,� he yelled at me. Some people are soooo touchy.
In any event, neither me nor my wise-ass little bro actually spent time behind bars. This was the assistant manager afterall. We ended up drinking with the actual manager, both apologizing and accepting apologies, and all turned out well in the end. Somewhere, Uncle Stosh was smiling.
That�s the essence of a wedding reception. You push the envelop, in part because you hope that that the newly-married couple will do the same. What is life if it�s not about exploring new territory?
