From: Hangover Ash
To: MrJumbo@aol.com
Dear Doug,

Read this--make your additions/changes--then maybe pass it on to Sosna, Sian, etc. before it goes out. Several people wanted to hear about the wedding:

Faruk
  and Anjariitta, Willem,
Suzanne.


For all you who missed the big day--here's the report:

Well, it began most promisingly with a delightful bachelorette party at a Korean restaurant in NYC. Present were: Myself, Ellis, Sian, Sosna,

the bride,

  

Lisa,

and other assorted non-I-Housers, like Anna's cousins and future sister-in-law. Small gifts were given to the Gross bride-to-be--all of an unseemly, and therefore most acceptable nature. These included lingerie, Kama Sutra-esque oils, lotions, etc. Should she not have a good time on her honeymoon, hey, it sure as hell ain't our fault. After feasting, assorted deviants and riff-raffs (that would be I Housers for the most part) made their way to the I House, for more boozing. As usual, the place was closed down by us, and as we scattered into the dawn, all we could think about was that we had to be up in four hours to attend the wedding picnic in Connecticut. Out of the kindness of our hearts, Tom and myself agreed to drive Lisa and her two cousins up to Connecticut. You can imagine how favorably impressed they were with Lisa's friend (me--the one with the hangover), when I proceeded to demand that Tom stop the car because I, uh, felt sick, and, uh, well... you can guess...

So, the picnic. Present were

myself,

Tom,

 

Amanda, Doug, Sian, Ellis... What a great time! We stuffed ourselves on burgers, were regaled with stories by Cary's amazing uncle, Don--at whose equally amazing home the wedding was held. Doug brought with him an alcoholic concoction that looked suspiciously like Windex. After feasting, we all ended up at the Stamford Sheraton (where everyone stayed). Not a bad place, with its pool, whirlpool, etc. Ellis' bathroom came with its own TV. But of course, we mostly hung around the hotel bar sucking back libations (till invariably we were kicked out). Anna, who had planned on late-night banter and socializing in her bridal suite, suddenly began to complain of exhaustion (a euphemism--I believe--for terror), and disappeared early for her last night of peaceful slumber as a single girl. Doug, Tom and Hangover Ash enjoyed a fine cigar in the lounge and--in case the cigar smoking strikes you as non-plebeian--finished up everybody's leftover drinks.

Amanda devised a great plan: We should all, once a year, get together at some not-too-expensive, but moderately elegant hotel, as a kind of reunion. Festivities would entail the usual: drinking, eating, yapping, wreaking hotel havoc, leaving for home blurry-eyed. Wouldn't that be great?

The wedding: Well, let me tell you, Anna looked beautiful. As Tom put it, "Like Gene Kelly"--till someone politely pointed out he meant Grace Kelly, not Gene. Most of us huddled together in "Uncle" Don's house--due less to feeling cold or in need of each other than the godawful fear that we might knock down the Rembrandt hanging on the wall, or topple over one of his pieces of pre-Columbian art. Don, by the way--as Sosna can attest to--is a very cool guy/artist/businessman. Very unassuming, despite owning a huge house on a huge ocean. The wedding was held on his private pier, under a tent, and both groom and bride were both attractively formal and spontaneous in their delivery. (Cary, instead of repeating a Hebrew saying verbatim, took liberties so that the phrase's opening came out "Hooray!"; Anna said "I do" with dramatic relish. Even the rabbi commented on these little additions with an air of satisfaction.)

Note: Cary and Anna's wedding announcement was in Sunday's NYT, for anyone interested. Needless to say, several of us, after reading the entry, wondered what the hell we were doing there amidst such socialites.

After the ceremony, dinner was enjoyed by all--and of course dancing. Lisa (who looked very striking in an elegant sundress) gave a wonderful speech (in which the I-House group was lauded? chastised? as being "that bad influence" on Anna; of course, we all applauded exuberantly, as if we had just received dollops of praise). Sian's photo was snapped more than several times by complete strangers due to her cutting-edge hat: a black number, wide as a bicycle wheel, its rim lined with downy pink feathers. (Some people, however, were not as taken with the muppet-like matching purse). Doug, in his typical fashion, kicked his way--not to mention several people--across the dance floor. We, smartly, had been placed right next to the dance floor. Though Anna informs us it was because she thought we would get people dancing, our suspicions are it had something to do with our decibel level, and that sitting close to the band might drown us out. It proved difficult to extricate Amanda from her seat, as sundry desserts were available--all of them chocolate.

So, there it is. Bride and groom went to Puerto Rico for their honeymoon, and I'm sure upon their return, they'll have complaints to make about the above. Till then, that's everything that happened. For all those who missed--condolences. It was a most excellent time.