Marriage and debt? You bet.
submitted by Jeff Brown
With wedding season upon us, I thought I'd offer some advice to the bride and groom.
Elope!
Trading vows alone in a secret locale saves you the indignity of parading your feelings
before a roomful of people. It's also the cheapest way to get the technicalities behind
you. After all, a wedding is like an extravagant meal: It's over quickly, and later you
feel the same as you would if you'd eaten a bowl of rice. Why go broke?
Unfortunately, when my girlfriend and I decided to wed, my elopement idea blew up on the
launchpad. What followed was horrifying, like walking through a bad neighborhood with
money poking out of your pockets. Even worse, all our
friends became agents for the florists, caterers, limo companies and banquet-hall
operators who were bent on seeing us enter married life under an Everest of debt.
"But it's your "wedding!'''' they'd gasp, as we looked to, well, maximize our
return.
During the planning phase, I was stunned when my intended kept reporting that bakeries
wanted $175 and up for a cake. And this was for a small wedding. ``Gee,'' I said, ``Acme
sells cakes for $8.'' With this, the cake assignment became mine.
No bakery would quote a price by phone, so I found myself in South Philly leafing through
a wedding-cake portfolio _ 8-by-10 glossies in a binder. (Is a little Grand Marnier
between the slices really worth an extra hundred?) I
showed enough interest to get a couple of samples and promised to call later.
Next came an interview with the florist, a woman just off on her own after apprenticing at
a hoity-toity shop in Chestnut Hill. She'd be cheap, we thought. She showed up in jeans
and work boots and talked us out of the display we'd planned for the mantelpiece.
Terrific! Then came her bid _ $650 _ over budget by a factor of 10.
In the end, we found it pays to complain. All my belly aching around the office got me a
line on a beginning caterer who worked cost-plus. The dinner was great, a buffet with some
real food like ham and potatoes. The cake was fine, too. The caterer didn't have any round
pans, so we just passed off the square layers as a cultural thing.
The caterer's bartender agreed to use our liquor, saving us a bundle. She was a little new
to this and annoyed me by plopping the ice into the drinks ``after'' mixing them,
splattering Uncle Charlie. But most people just sipped
wine anyway.
My betrothed and her mother dashed out the morning of the wedding and bought $100 worth of
mums. A bit extravagant, I thought, but they made a nice border by the front walk
afterward.
The ceremony was performed by a judge from downtown. He wouldn't take any money, or even
name a favorite charity, insisting the taxpayers had picked up the tab.
The wedding was in the living room, which caused a bit of a strain, since I had to rush my
rehab projects. But despite all you hear about pre-wedding friction, we had only one real
blowup: The day before, I passed up brunch with
my almost-in-laws so I could paint a radiator.
The morning of the wedding I got up early to do some touch-ups. Then as my bride descended
the stairs in her gown (a nice dress, later recycled for other occasions), I was horrified
to spot a strip of gaffer's tape I'd left on a
living room wall. I ripped it off and stuffed it in my pocket, and the ceremony began.
Now, I won't argue that big wedding's aren't nice. I once went to a doozie that was like a
coronation. Of course, I'm still married and they're not, so their 40-piece orchestra
didn't amortize very well.
Our memories of our modest wedding are happy ones _ a party with just the people we loved.
But our memories of the honeymoon are even better: The thousands we saved on the wedding
we lavished on a yacht in the Caribbean.
message
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