For all the little annoyances of comic cons, the socially awkward advances, the hygene issues, the Klingons, they all pale in comparison to the estrogen fueled nightmare that is Wedding Fair.
Every year the Westin Bayshore Hotel plays host to this expo of marital frenzy and this year we decided to go and collect business cards and brochures from over a hundred local companies in order to finalise plans for our upcoming big day. So for the ridiculous entry fee of twenty five bucks per head we get the privilege of attending a day long commercial for over-priced crap wrapped in tulle. We also get to fill out dozens of prize ballots inlcuding the whopper grand prize of an $87,000 wedding package, which is aparently the main reason to attend these shows.
After buying the tickets we fill out all the forms and ballots and make our way to the entrance where the door staff hustle the "bride" aka me to a separate line where they take my ticket and slap a large sticker on my chest, dead center between the boobs that says BRIDE on it. Oh great.
Once inside we are treated to one hell of a scene. You hear about bridezillas, you see the TLC shows and gawk at these crazy women who just seem to have come from another planet and wonder how the hell there can be nutjobs like this out there but it's such a shock when you see them in real life. And not just one, but dozenss of them. Everywhere. These women were unbelievable! Ian was knocked around constantly by women racing from ballot box to ballot box. I had so many women deke in lines ahead of me, shove their way to a brochure, wedge between myself and whoever I was chatting with, and oh god, the second it became known that the cupcakes at the Cupcakes booth could be taken as the show was coming to a close (despite the employees saying they were really stale) that table was set upon like vultures to a freshly deceased corpse and picked clean within minutes.
A few people asked me when the big day was and when I said it was in May there seemed to be this unanimous horror in their responses: "Wow! That's so soon!" One mentioned their wedding wasn't until next year. It's fickin' January! How much of a control freak do you need to be over one day!?
It took me a while to figure out the freaky vibe of the place and then it made total sense: of course, it was high school. Multiplied by about a thousand. Combine every vote for class president, audition for a part in the big play, preparations for grad night and a whole bunch of parent/teacher meetings and you get the emotional regression, hormonally charged mania and seething competition of brides looking for a deal.
The said brides all glared fiercely, looking each other up and down, making quick, harsh judgements while their maids of honour hovered ready to get her back should someone pull a switchblade and start a rumble. The mothers all had that worried furrow in their brows wondering how they were going to pay for it all, The grooms, what few there were, hung around the Canadian Tire booth looking at lawn mowers and plasma screen tvs.
We collected the information we wanted and got out of there asap.
Ugh.
Give me San Diego on Saturday any day.
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