2003-09-13 - 7:22 a.m.
The wedding reception was beautiful. The bride, my cousin, changed into five different dresses at various times during the evening, all custom made and each costing a small fortune. The groom looked the same as always, like a little boy whose parents had forced him to wear a tux. Well, his parents were footing the bill. Apparently it took them four years to save up for it.
Everything was held inside the Convention Center (google search images of Hong Kong's skyline. It's the one that's relatively short, curved, sticks onto the harbour, and is silver. Yes. That one.) They had rented one of the exhibition halls. It was like walking through a castle. The room where we watched the Mid Autumn fireworks and laser show was bigger than the whole of my flat. The dining room was massive, a ballroom converted, with veneer paneling and red carpeted floors. The hallways connecting everything were wider than most people's buildings.
Of course, it was hell walking around with my new cigarette-thin heeled stilettos. I nearly slipped thrice on the polished marble surface. Everyone complimented on how "grown up" I looked, my hair swept back with butterfly clips, blue silk shawl around my shoulders, blue blouse and black dress pants. I felt pretty and prided myself on the makeup job that concealed the telltale signs of teenage years.
Standing on the balcony watching the fireworks, I felt like I was in a movie, where the rich VIP people stand above the pushing sea of people, the wind blowing and glasses of champagne everywhere. There were no glasses of champagne, but when we went inside to the banquet hall, there were glasses of the finest Chilean wine. Mom took a glass for Dad. Dad was at the front, talking to the Important People, so I took a sip. Actually, a few, as the Important People made speech after speech.
It was finally 9 when the food was served. By then, I was starving. And also tipsy. It's very very true that you get drunk way faster when you're hungry. I stood up for the bathroom and the world swayed.
Good thing I was a dancer.
The serving time between each of the twelve courses was quite long, so my other cousin and I passed the time teaching each other how to count to ten, to her in French, to I in Japanese.
The waiter by then had decided I had too much to drink and moved the wine glass towards my mom. He piled my dish with more food than the others'.
We finished at midnight, with me almost falling in the dessert with fatigue. The waiter accidentally spilled red bean paste on my sister's new clothes and the manager offered to dry clean them. Was okay because the clothes weren't all that expensive. I figure the waiter was tired too, because he stood by our table for nearly six hours. Dad didn't bother to yell at him like he usually does for waiters who spill stuff.
When we got home, I was far too stuffed to fall asleep, but I did anyways, the after effects of the wine bearing down on me. I awoke early, headache pounding. And now I'm thirsty. I must go for some water.
