—‘—,-{@ ~ THE WEDDING ~ @}-,—‘—
My friend Lily’s wedding was 4pm at the famous historic Greystone Mansion in Beverly Hills. After the graduation brunch (see Part I, below), I rushed home to change, shower, apply “wedding makeup”. The road closure at Hacienda Rd. sent me on a long, slow-moving detour before I was able to get home, and that delay, along with what felt like rush-hour traffic (bumper-to-bumper at 5 mph) on the freeways, caused an otherwise 50 minute drive to be 2.5 hours. When we arrived at Greystone Mansion, the wedding had concluded and the photographers were taking guest/family photos w/the happy couple. The only thing more beautiful and breathtaking than the hilltop estate was the bride, in a Vera Wang-esque strapless princess-skirted wedding gown. I slid right in and mingled, feeling horribly guilty for missing the wedding, and upset because I REALLY wanted to see the ceremony. The bride’s best friend (whom I also know from high school) almost blew my cover a few times. “Hey Cindy!” she greeted me.
“Oh, Deborah! I didn’t even recognize you!” I continued, trying to make conversation, “I heard you got married! Congratulations!” Brownie points for me for remembering, I thought.
“Yeah, I did! My husband’s around here somewhere.” She looked around, and not seeing him, continued, “He’s the one that was up there with me.”
“Up there?”
“Yeah! He was playing the guitar! You know, when I was singing?”
[a beat.] “Oh. That was your husband,” I said thoughtfully, as if suddenly realizing the answer to a question that was burning in my mind as I watched them perform.
About 15 minutes later, I ran into Deborah again. “Hey, do you have a younger sister here?” I asked her. “Cuz I saw someone down there that looks EXACTLY how you looked in high school!” Brownie points for me for remembering and noticing, I thought.
“Yeah! That’s my sister! She was up there with me. Singing.” She looked at me oddly.
“Oh.” I should just stop talking to people.

—‘—,-{@ ~ THE RECEPTION ~ @}-,—‘—
I asked Lily’s dad at the photoshoot, “When’s the reception? The invitations didn’t say.” He said, “Just whenever we’re done here, probably 6, 6:30. It depends how long this takes.” Wow. He booked an entire restaurant for the evening?! Chinese banquet at Mission 261 in the scenic and classy San Gabriel Mission District, the traditional course after course of seafood, shark-fin soup, chicken, delicacies. The table we were assigned to sit at was strangely full, and it looked as if some people there had brought others to the table who aren’t supposed to be there (cuz I can’t imagine that Lily would mingle us young English-speaking peers, and some of us attended HS together, with 75 year old men). So at least 4 of us who were supposed to be at that table went to the “overflow” table at the back of the room. Which was just fine, because our adopted table got served WAY ahead of the original table. I had fun catching up w/an old HS friend and chatting w/her friend about my writing and publications, and about the politics involved in writing Asian American literature. Lily did the customary mid-dinner changes from her wedding gown to traditional Chinese dress to fancy ballroom gown, and after the meal, everyone migrated from the dining hall to a separate ballroom in another part of the restaurant for the games, bouquet/garter tosses, dancing. Open bar thru the whole event. Wonderful turnout, impressive banquet, and I’m sure it was a very lovely wedding ceremony.