tiger selects somnolent sommelier, sees Jupiter in Cyprus wedding
“… and drive, Dan!” Marjorie interrupts. “Tom said your driving took years off of his life.”
“That’s only because he had his eyes open,” I replied.
While we waited for them to arrive by sedate and boring airport transfer, the family that had already arrived assembled for dinner. A Cypriot waiter was able to inject excitement into what had been planned as a casual meal.
“You want to taste the wine?” He asked incredulously.
“But of course!” I replied. “And this?” I thought after tasting the ‘international’ offering, “This ‘wine’ has the subtle aroma of decaying gruyere cheese, the body of a desiccated Iguana and a light pink color totally inappropriate for a ‘cabernet’.”
“Non!” Lionel, Nastaran’s husband, told the waiter far more succinctly. “Bring the other one.”
“I’ve opened this one.”
“Yes, but I don’t like this one. We asked for a full-bodied wine and you delivered anorexic fluid.”
“Who is going to pay for the open bottle?”
“No one. We want the other red wine. You can take your bad ‘red wine’ back.”
“There are too many people. Who is going to pay for the open bottle of wine?”
“No one will pay. We. Do. Not. Want. That. Wine.”
“How many rooms do we have at this table?” The waiter persisted.
“We have people at the table,” i replied. “It doesn’t matter how many rooms.”
“I must charge a room. Which one will pay for the wine?”
“That doesn’t matter either.”
“I will keep track of who drinks how many glasses. Then I will charge each room appropriately.”
I sighed.
“But I’m not staying at this hotel,” Saphura noted. “And I don’t like either of these wines. Can you bring me a glass of the local Chardonnay?”
“No.” The waiter replied. “You are not at this hotel.”
“I will pay for the glass in cash.”
“That’s not fair,” the waiter continued. “I already poured red wine for you, so you should pay your share of that bottle.”
“I didn’t like the wine. No one liked that wine. That’s why the bottle is still full.”
“It’s not full because I poured some for you. Who is going to pay for it?”
“I will pay for that wine,” I replied. “Now please take it away and pour it down the kitchen drain.”
“You shouldn’t pay for the wine that she ordered,” the waiter replied, pointing.
“No one ordered that wine. Can you just bring me a Diet Coke?”
“Hrumph!” The waiter replied. Then, a few minutes later, he returned with a couple of bottles of the wine that I think we liked. He filled everyone’s glass to the brim (even pouring this new wine on top of unfinished glasses of a different wine). “This is on the house,” he announced.
“No, it’s on top of my Chardonnay.” Saphura observed.
“Now you have a rosė,” the waiter said before delivering another glass of Chardonnay.
The next morning we decided to begin thinking about a plan to consider a potential excursion toward the downtown area of Limassol. The trip involved a bus and coordinated movement of many people. (While we were planning and assembling, Layla walked the 8 miles into the city center.) In Limassol, we had lunch and played in the playground.
Family continued to arrive the following day. David’s flight from Germany was cancelled because of striking municipal workers. Fortuitously, he and Laurie were rerouted via London and (serendipity!) they ended up on the same airplane as Mitra and Stefan. The entire Martin family contingent arrived in time for the Rehearsal Dinner.
Wendy, Sandi, David, Marjorie, Dan (and Tiger)
On the walk to the venue, young Tiger saw a very bright star and,,,
“Look! It’s Jupiter!” He claimed. (Accurately)
Then it seemed like there were thousands of children (from about two years old to 14 years old) at the rehearsal dinner — and they all liked singing ‘Wheels on the Bus’, as directed by Tiger.
Wedding Day weather was beautiful. The wind died down and the sun came up. Tiger and I, on the way to the swimming pool, noticed a steady stream of ladies heading to the hair salon. The venue, a winery in the hills, had been chosen by Darius and Christiane, eh, Christiane and Darius. It was an excellent choice.
While we waited for the festivities to begin, young Tiger resplendent in his vest and bow tie (both installed with significant difficulty) was reluctant to practice his portion of the entrance.
“He’s supposed to carry balloons up the aisle,” Nazy explained.
“So?” I asked.
“He doesn’t want to go up the aisle with the balloons.”
“I’ll carry him up the aisle and he can hold the balloons.”
“He doesn’t want to do that either. I think wants to walk down the aisle with Christiane.”
“That slot is taken.”
The wedding was perfect. The bride was beautiful, the groom was handsome, everyone was happy. The party was festive, the dancing energized. We are happy to have Christiane join our family, Darius is happy to join Christiane’s family and, importantly, everyone in both the Issa and Martin families welcome the union. We all agreed that we’re all great people.
More about the wedding and the end-of-wedding excursion to Beirut in the next issue of The Weekly Letter.
For last week's letter, click here
The Wedding Party