a refill on my coffee. I do want more, but I decline because I have to meet Jessica in the lobby to help her go over some last minute wedding details with the wedding planner from the resort.
As I make my way up the stairs and into the lobby, I see Jessica waiting patiently in an overstuffed chair and flipping through a magazine. When she sees me, her eyes light up before she pounces up from her seat, “Oh Megan, I was wondering where you were! I am so glad you are with me for this.”
“Aren’t we just finalizing the dinner menu?” I ask.
“Well that, and some other things. This is a really big deal.” Jessica moans tugging on my arm, “Everything needs to be perfect. You know I can’t handle anything going wrong or any unnecessary imperfections.”
“Everything is going to be fine.” I assure her, “We already know from eating here that the food is fabulous.”
Jessica smiles, “I did pick a good resort.”
“The best,” I smile back.
Jessica’s eyes dart away from me, and she waves over at a short and skinny bald man. He sees her arms flailing and gives her an over-the-top smile. His nose is long and skinny, and his cheekbones are really high and defined.
“Megan this is Jose, the wedding planner for the resort. Jose this is Megan, my maid-of-honor” She beams between the two of us.
He extends his bony hand, and I notice his crooked teeth through his plastered grin. We shake, and I tell him how nice it is to meet him. He nods and looks back to Jessica, “Okee, right this way ladies,” and waves us down a hallway jetting out from the lobby and into his office.
My whole morning and early afternoon is spent listening to Jose and Jessica talk about every single detail of the wedding. They nit-pick every item and act out the ceremony three times. We go over the flowers. We discuss decorations. We even praise Jessica on her great choice of selecting the color turquoise for the bridesmaid’s dresses.
Then Jose gives us a run-down of what will be happening behind the scenes during the ceremony and reception. Things like where the photographer will be, what the DJ will be playing during dinner, and then what he will play later for the dance portion. Jose even goes as far as telling us how many waiters will be serving each table, and the exact time each dinner course is expected to arrive.
Finally we start our discussion on the food, and that becomes a small nightmare. First Jessica thinks she wants fish. Then she remembers her Uncle Gary has a fish allergy. Then she decides on beef tenderloin, but turns pouty and decides beef is too typical of a wedding. Then she waffles between a stuffed breast of chicken or Veal Roulade (I have no clue what that is), but then she decides neither will do. At this point, she looks to me for advice, but I am so confused and exhausted from listening to her and Jose talk, that my day just went from living the Vida loca to wanting to rip my hair out.
I try my best to give some suggestions. I recommend pork tenderloin or maybe some other type of chicken. But flamboyant Jose and the flick of his wrist immediately shut me down. Jessica tells me to think outside the box, and I tell her I am trying. For the next thirty minutes, I let her and Jose carryon without me. I sit staring off into space until I hear them finally come up with a main dish. They of course think it will be out of this world, but I would argue that it is a little over the top. Jose repeats their finalized menu, and Jessica vibrates in her chair.
“Every guest will get a piece of fillet mignon and a piece of chicken Kiev, plus a side of lobster tail.” Jose exclaims, “Minus Uncle Gary of course on the lobster.”
“It’s perfect.” Jessica squeals, “What do you think Megan?”
“I think it will be the best dinner anyone has ever had, not to mention the most expensive.” I smile.
“I know!” Jessica shouts, “Everything is going to be done with such class. Just like how it should be.”
Jessica and Jose hug as she thanks him a million times over.
When we finally leave Jose’s office, we cruise our way through the lobby before Jessica asks, “You hungry?”
“After all that food talk who wouldn’t be?” I say as we step