Worst.Vacation.Ever. Part Seven
My aunt never made it to the wedding or the reception and when the MC (who none of us bothered to inform) called her up to the microphone for her tribute to the bridesmaids – my uncle turned up instead. He explained her absence was from fatigue because’ they had both been working so hard’, but – he explained his presence to be a result of ‘rejuvenation from the music’. Insert eye roll here. He thanked us for our ‘efforts’ and encouraged us to follow in his daughter’s example. By this time I was sufficed to say enjoying my meal of curried goat and it so humbled me I could find no motivation to correct him. Did I mention that one of the bridesmaids, and a groomsman had left by this time? Not that they missed anything. The bride only approached the mic once – where she proceeded to turn her back to the crowd and sing ‘Still the One” by Shania Twain to the groom. Was this the tribute to us? That she sang a song by a Canadian songstress? Oh Kaloo-kalay! Where are my manners? Well at least she wasn’t being ‘partial’ – she didn’t thank her guests either! She didn’t thank my aunt – her parents – the maid of honour – NOONE. The only time she acknowledged any of us was when she summoned me from the upper bridal table to get her some Advil for her headache (my Advil by the way) – I told her it was in the van and returned to my seat. The only time I heard the words ‘thank you’ out of that girl’s mouth was when we were asking for directions in town. She thanked a random stranger for pointing in a certain direction. That is the kind of act that moves her. We stayed until the end of the wedding and went to the guest house where my aunt had reserved a honeymoon suite for the couple and rooms for the rest of us. My uncle tried to tell me which room to sleep in – the one with my grandmother and his younger daughter (and the one year old cousin whose mother had abandoned him). The nerve! I flat out told him I would not be sleeping with his daughter and went to hang with my ‘cooler’ side of the family (giggle) – I really did feel like a 13 year old rebel at this point). The next day we jointly decided to pay our way for another night at the guest house – for our aunt as well. Disappointed that another room wasn’t booked for her the bride scowled her way into the awaiting taxi without a word to any of the bridal party. My irritated grandmother, the little boy and the little sister also got sent off into the van – and all the misery disappeared on the Monday before my Wednesday departure. Hurrah! Fun at last! We’ve got running water, a washing machine – a pool!!!! (That I couldn’t get into) A-AND we had breakfast with toast and eggs!!!!!! Look at me! I’m so-o positive – eh? My last day was sure to be the best day ever. Ever. Except by mid Monday I was calling my husband (roaming charges and all) to see if he could find me an earlier flight home. Request denied. There was no escape route.
