Arizona, Here I Come...

Or to be more precise, Arizona, there I went. I spent the past weekend in Phoenix, AZ. An old friend of mine was getting married and with the flight between LA and Phoenix taking a little over an hour, I pretty much had to go. I had been a bit hesitant about going, truth be told. I’m not a huge fan of weddings and while I have known the bride for many many years, I didn't’t really know very many other people who would be there.

But I went, because that’s the kind of friend I am—selfless, caring, and utterly spineless.

Overall the weekend was alright. Not spectacular, but not Spanish Inquisition either. Well, at least not wholly Spanish Inquisition. Friday night was spent trying desperately to avoid those people who have lost the ability to discuss anything other than their spouses and/or children. Then Saturday before lunch I found myself being interrogated by the bride’s soon-to-be-sister-in-law. In an effort to take pity on poor, unmarried me, she asked me what sort of man I’d like to meet. Before I could give her some vague answer, she started asking me about how religious I am (since that is THE most important thing). I was honest; I told her that while at one point in my life I had been, I am no longer what is called “frum”. That was a huge mistake. I was then bombarded with questions about why I am no longer observant, because apparently that is everyone’s business. I was fairly evasive, but this devolved into a conversation about the importance of keeping kosher and keeping Shabbos, and how even if I don’t want to do other things, I MUST do these two, because “they have long lasting consequences”. I just found myself nodding till I thought my head was going to fall off and escaped as soon as I could.

Side Note: This is why for years I have resisted letting people know my religious status. I don’t want to be lectured, and I don’t need to be lectured. I made this decision after a lot of thought and I am much much happier because of it. Whatever my relationship with religion is, it is personal and private and since other people can’t seem to respect that, I should just keep my mouth shut as I have in the past.

Saturday night was more manageable; the bride and all her friends watched “Shrek 2”. It’s an OK movie. Cute with some amusing pop culture reference, but nothing earth shattering. Sunday I spent most of the morning watching old movies (nothing beats “Some like it Hot”) and eventually got ready for the wedding. The wedding itself was rather lovely. As much as I hate weddings, this one was tolerable. The band played some great old music not just the usual whiney Jewish far; the food was excellent and the booze was plentiful and potent. Thankfully I was not a bridesmaid and so I could disappear into the background for most of the event.


The highlight of the entire trip was the ride to the airport that night. My flight was at 10 pm, and as such I had to leave the wedding early. I was taking a cab with 3 other guests who had flights the same time as mine. Of course no one got their act together on time and I got to the airport 10 minutes before my flight was to leave. After trying to run around the airport in a suit and high heels, I hitched a ride on the special people cart. It has always been a dream of mine to be able to ride on that cart, lights flashing, other passengers wondering why I am getting this preferential treatment. I got to the gate, ran onboard and found that I then had to wait 20 minutes for some connecting passengers. A brilliant example of hurry up and wait.


This weekend also showed me that I am infinitely capable of making small talk with people I have little or no interest in. The number of inane conversations I held just to get through the day was remarkable. I am not sure if this is a talent or a curse. While not everyone was a soul-sucking pod person, this weekend went far in reaffirming my desire never to attend another wedding again.

Of course, the Devil does love to make me eat my words…