SPIRIT FINGERS . . .

I've been to a million weddings in my time. They've been huge, small, extravagant, tastefully simple, mostly Korean, mostly Caucasian, boring, exciting, dramatic, tedious, messy, well-coordinated. But nothing -- nothing -- in all my wedding attendance experience prepared me for yesterday evening. Lots of the elements -- music, the location, the seating, etc. -- can't really be criticized, for everyone has their own style and budget restrictions. But some things are always funny, as yesterday evening's wedding a la family event will demonstrate:

Predictable Old People: anywhere I accompany my parents, I am often accosted with "How old are you now? Don't you want to get married? I bet you have a secret boyfriend somewhere. Isn't it time to settle down? You can't work forever, you know. I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who might have a single brother in Delaware..." Yesterday was no different, but it's all in how you play the game:

Mr.O: "So any news?"
Me, innocently: "News?"
Mr.O: "Yes, you know, good news?"
Me: "Why yes -- I'm really enjoying my job."
Mr.O: "Yes, but I mean GOOD news."
Me: "Well, I think that's pretty good news. You know, most people don't really enjoy their jobs."
Mr.O: "Yes, but, isn't it time?"
Me: "Time for what?"
Mr.O: "Time for this [gesturing around the wedding reception room]."
Me: "Well, it was supposed to start at 5pm, but I guess they're running late . . ."
Mr.O: "I mean time to start your own household."
Me: "But I like the household I'm in -- why would I want to leave and start my own?!"
Mr.O: "But you have to!"
[And then the family solidarity kicks in.]
Omma: "Oh but we like having her at home."
Mr.O: "Yes, but you're going to want to kick her out sometime."
Appa: "No, not so much."
End of conversation, thank you very much.

Marriage Solicitations: people are pretty bold about telling me "Oh, you're so pretty, you're so successful, you're so smart, I have the perfect candidate for you!" (No really, I'm not just stroking my own ego -- they really say these things to me. Not that I'm not smart, pretty and successful, right?!) The questions don't ruffle me anymore -- I would think they were brain dead if they didn't ask me these things. But last night topped all of the previously bold solicitations:

Mrs.J and Mrs.L: "You're so pretty, you're so successful, you're so smart!"
[I offer a smile and thanks and inch away, towards the shelter of Brother, who wears an annoyingly patronizing grin.]
Mrs.J and Mrs.L, to Omma: "Does she have anyone yet? How can she not have anyone yet? Maybe she has a secret boyfriend!"
[I don't completely understand the fascination with the secret boyfriend.]
Omma: "No, I don't know, and no."
[I nudge Brother, feeling the impending need for some liquid sustenance. Gracious smile still pasted on face.]
Mrs.J: "Well, I have a son, T!"
Mrs.L (not to be outdone): "And I have a son, C!"
[Omma is shocked into silence. She can only smile nervously.]
[Brother and I stare wide-eyed, open-mouthed at each other. WOW. These women have BALLS.]
We turn simultaneously to grab some food from the passing waiter. Anything to keep us from busting out in laughter.
We run away and leave Omma to deal with The Situation.

The Dynamic Duo: the DJs/emcees of the reception were a pair of Korean-American (but more Korean, if you know what I mean) men, probably in their late 20s. They couldn't possibly be into their 30s, but I guess you never know -- anyway, the dyed orange hair made it hard to tell. There was much Korean techno-pop. Almost all of it was completely incomprehensible and excruciatingly loud. At one point, they started playing "Kung-Fu Fighting." How appropriate. There was also a lot of Korean-variety-show-style inflection, screaming and (mis)pronounciation. "And NOW! Da CAKE! CUT-TEENG!" "WEL-COME! BRIDE. AND. GUROOM!" Oh my goodness. There were also two -- yes, I said TWO -- dance routines, given "in honor of the bride and groom." I just don't know how to describe these dance routines. The first one involved top hats and canes and shimmying. The second one involved shimmery afro-style wigs and crooning. I guess two conversations between Brother and I pretty much sum them up:

Brother: "Do you think they choreographed those dance routines?"
Me: "They would have had to. I mean, they were doing the same steps."
Brother: "Yes, but I think I would have enjoyed it more if they had kicked higher. I mean, if you're going to do high-kicks, you should make them really high. And keep your legs straight."

And later, on the way home . . .
Brother: "Hey, remember those dance routines?"
Me: "What dance routines?"
Brother: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DANCE ROUTINES!?!?!? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY FORGET THE DANCE ROUTINES?!?!?!"
Me: "Oh yeah. THOSE dance routines."
Silence.
Brother: "Yeah. What was up with them?"

Table Manners: Once again, Brother has trouble with the simple act of cutting his food. We both get filet mignon, with sides of baby potatoes, baby carrots, asparagus and beets. Quite tasty, actually, except Brother missed out on the full baby carrot experience. His knife skills not being completely up to par, he manages to fling two ends of his baby carrots off his plate, making them bounce off my chair and slide across the dance floor. I am mid-bite, unable to completely comprehend what just happened. Thoughts running through my head: "Don't laugh, you have food in your mouth." "Did Brother really just fling food at me?" "What just bounced off my chair?" "OMG, I hope no one saw." "Now he has to go GET it." "Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh." Well, I swallowed my food, turned bug-eyed to stare at Brother, and nearly fell out of my chair laughing. Thankfully, Brother had enough wits about him to slide his chair gracefully a few feet out onto the dance floor, stick out his leg and corral in the chunks of lost baby carrot, hustling them back under our table. Jeez. Can't take us anywhere.

Grandma Does "YMCA": Poor Grandma. Someone's granny didn't quite have the stamina to get on the dance floor and shake her bad self to The Village People. So she quite contentedly perched in her chair, smiled ever-so-peacefully at the ruckus on the dance floor, and started elegantly waving her arms back and forth, very generally forming the letters "Y," "M," "C," and "A." Completely off rhythm, of course. And having no real idea of what she was doing. Appa, Brother and I couldn't stop staring. We also couldn't understand the serene expression on her face. She had clearly gone Zen.

Bongo Drums: We never caught onto exactly why a DJ with a full CD and sound system needed a set of 4 bongo drums. But they were there, and DJ#1 played them throughout the night. He was totally into it, too -- full-body gyrations, head-thrown back in musical ecstasy, lip-to-mike crooning. Sadly, the best part was not DJ#1 going buck-wild on his bongos. Oh, NO. It was later -- with just ten minutes left of dance time. Only ten more minutes of eardrum-popping Korean boy-band tunes. People are going nuts on the dance floor and both the DJs are out there, pumping up the crowd, thereby leaving their precious bongos unattended. I had previously bet Brother $10 to get up in front of everyone and start pounding on the bongos for one full minute. Little we knew that some people would do it for FREE. Tall Old Man, approximately 55 years old, balding with remaining hair in a neat U-shape. Still wearing his suit jacket and tie. Stands up, goes up to the unattended bongos, and starts playing them. Off-beat. Not really paying attention to the music. Not even really swaying or otherwise emoting. Just bongo-ing very attentively. A few minutes later, Short Old Man, full head of hair, slightly cheesy and outdated gray suit, stands up. Joins T.O.M. at the bongos. T.O.M. and S.O.M. drum amiably together for about 45 seconds. S.O.M. sits back down. T.O.M. leaves, apparently to take five, because a few moments later, he's back. Drumming attentively and off-beat once more. Omma, Appa, Brother and I staring from our seats, mouths completely hanging open, making no effort to shut them. Do we laugh? Do we cry? Do we go up and join T.O.M.? Sometimes, we don't need to make our own entertainment -- strangers do it for us all the time.

Okay, so it was all jaw-gapingly astonishing, but on a serious note: it was really lovely to see some old friends again, and to be given the opportunity to remember how much we loved them (and love them still), how much fun we had back in the day, and how important are the ties of friendship. J and G and their parents -- eternally part of our family . . .