Fun at the Bridal Show Chase Park Plaza
First of all, when did I forget how to dress? I used to wear a suit every day to work and looked quite respectable. I thought it would be easier when I developed my casual wardrobe. Now I’m in that hinterland between owning nice suits and casual accents that don’t go with them, only I don’t figure that out until I’m out in public. Darby advised to be business casual and to wear comfortable shoes since we’d be standing for four hours during the bridal show. As you may recall, I volunteered to help her out with her photography booth in exchange for sitter money to escape my dear children. I wore nice pants and a jacket but the shirt I had on showed the Tube map on my chest
. In an effort not to scare the young brides, I threw a bohemian scarf around my neck. In fairness, the scarf matched the comfortable beige Tron boots I wore that look like wedged sneakers. I was not comforted by Darby’s comment that the boots resembled roller skates. Sneakers are not a good look with suit pants unless you’re visiting a retirement village. Republican Roller Girl.
Bleeding Profusely at the Bridal Show Chase Park Plaza
had a prime spot in the corner up front so we got to watch as the brides circled around progressively more tipsy from the free mimosas on hand as well as the vodka shot vendor as the afternoon wore on. The Chase Park Plaza Hotel
ballroom buzzed with florists, gown retailers, linen vendors, catering companies, DJ booths, bridal consultants and photographers. At one point I pulled on a hangnail on my right hand and released a torrent of unstoppable blood. Visions of Saturday Night Live’s Dan Akroid playing Julia Child with her blood spurting finger danced in my head as I tried to avoid hand contact with any of the patrons.
Offending Potential Customers at the Bridal Show Chase Park Plaza
I also discovered it is not as easy to avoid offending people in such a setting as one might think. Darby asked a very youthful bride-to-be whether her slightly younger companions were her sisters to which the bride flared up and responded, “I’m going to be their STEPMOTHER!” Sorry, my bad. At another point, I approached two older well-groomed men wearing matching grey sweaters and asked, “So, when is the date?” The horrified fathers of the bride separated immediately and never came back. I was just trying to be politically correct! It was fun tormenting tall adults and bleeding on them while wearing lesbian sneakers instead of hanging out with bored demanding midgets for an afternoon.