After waking up way too early, and then spending several hours vegging out and doing not much of anything, this blog began her only day to go do stuff in Beachwood/Shaker Heights/Cleveland. Sadly, it didn't seem like there was much to do. So, we did what all Yidden do in such situations...we ate. This turned out to be the only truly negative experience of the weekend.
The food was fine, but, as is often the case in kosher restaurants here in the Midwest, the service was not. Appetizers arrived after the entrees, drinks and parts of orders were forgotten. But all this would have simply been forgotten had it not been for the sushi. It took forever, and one of the individuals at the table got very angry about this. His response was to verbally lash out at the server, who immediately got defensive, because, well, she'd just been the recipient of a verbal lashing. Turns out she's not even a server, but a cook asked to fill in due to a staff shortage. Now, whether or not she was at fault (which I do not believe she was, as it also turned out that the sushi chef is known for being temperamental and slow), or whether she should have responded as she did (or even at all), I was horribly embarrassed to be sitting there. No one should ever be treated the way that woman was treated. You don't speak to people like that...ever. It's just not menschlich. I have a real issue with rude Yidden. I'd prefer they took their kippot off before opening their mouths.
Moving on, I left the restaurant to go two doors down for a manicure, where Becky was waiting for me. We both chose pretty shades of pink to match our wedding outfits, and then sat down for what is quite possibly the worst manicure either of us has ever received. Becky even filed and shaped her own nails, because the manicurist did such a poor job of it. It was quite the experience.
Between the restaurant and the manicure, neither one of us was overflowing with simcha when we got back to the hotel. But during the process of getting ready (which I will not explain here, lest I reveal the feminine secrets of why it takes us so long to get ready for big events. Or small events. Or anything that has the slightest potential to turn into an event), we regained our good cheer.
The wedding was beautiful. There's really not much more to say. The best part was just watching Yosef and Tova look at each other, and seeing how obviously bashert they are.
There was one really funny mix up, which I'm happy to say revolved around me. After the chuppah, I went back inside and found my table card. Table 7. I figured that some of my other friends, like Becky and Velvel, would also be at my table, since we'd all requested mixed seating. Yet Becky was at Table 18. And then she told me that there wasn't going to be any mixed seating, so we were both quite puzzled as to why I'd be put at a different table from her. Going back into the main room, I realized it was even stranger than I'd thought...Table 7 was on the men's side! Table 18 was on the women's side, and was were every single woman from the shabbaton was placed. I guess since I drink bourbon and like sports, I rate high enough to sit with the boys. (Note: we resolved the issue by simply making room for one more chair at Table 18. The guys at Table 7 weren't my type, anyway)