don't call it a wedding

Jaime and I have been asked numerous times why we decided to get married.  At first I wasn’t sure how to answer the question, aside from the obvious: love.  It was some months later when Jaime hypothesized that perhaps the driving factor in our decision was the move to Los Angeles.

Just six months earlier we were proclaiming that we wouldn’t be marrying for years and yet here we were jumping right into the water without even checking its depth.  I tend to agree with Jaime, in Seattle life was easy, there were always friends and family nearby and though we lived together it was not uncommon for us to do things separately.  Once we got to LA all that changed.

Nearly every waking moment not spent at work was spent together.  We relied and depended on each other in ways we never had to before.  Whatever the little voice in our heads that was telling us not to get married had in six short months been silenced.

Initially we decided not to announce our engagement until May when we would be talking a trip home to Seattle.  By the next day however Jaime had told all her friends, family, and practically anyone who would listen to her.  I should have known that she couldn’t keep a secret.  This is the girl who has to do birthday shopping last minute because if she doesn’t the temptation to give the gifts early is too great.

I resisted that temptation, not only because it felt tacky to tell people over the phone. (See daily observation #002) but because I wasn’t sure how my parents would take the news.  They are practical people and with the economy teetering on the edge of implosion, our unsteady employment situation, and the financial commitment a wedding poses, I expected them to be less than thrilled.

To combat any potential negative reaction they might have, I decided to have as much of the wedding planned as possible before we told them.  This way we could go to them with an actual cost analysis and prove to them that in fact it was feasible.  I won’t lie however, at the time even I didn’t think a wedding was feasible.

The two biggest expenses were the Wedding Venue (and all the charges that accrues) and Jaime’s dress.  Almost immediately she began searching for the dress.

We weren’t having a traditional wedding, so I helped her choose the dress or at least the style online.  I did what to be surprised on the day of the wedding and not see her in it till then.  I don’t remember exactly how many weeks she searched but it didn’t seem like many before she headed out on a Saturday afternoon with Annika to do some dress shopping in person.

A few hours later I got a call saying that she’d found the dress.  She bought it and that was that, check dress off the list.  Now to find a venue for the ceremony and reception.

The wedding was to be held in Seattle, this is where our search began.  It became apparent immediately that our initial plans of holding the reception in my parents back yard would not work.  Early liberal estimates had the guest list at well over one hundred, even if we managed to cut that down as low as eighty it would still be maxing out available space.  So we began to search for other options.

The first lesson we learned (if you’re planning on holding your own wedding write this down and remember it) don’t call it a wedding.  As soon as you say that magic word the price of just about everything doubles or even triples.  Say “these flowers are for a party. We’ll be throwing a party.  This is a birthday cake.”

The next lesson we learned is that while it is entirely possible to find an affordable space for the reception, they force you to use their catering service which is severely overpriced and often, less than stellar food.

We’d called over a dozen places and didn’t even have anything on a short list.  We couldn’t afford any of them.  In a moment of desperation we called Cornish, our alma mater hoping to use Raisebeck theater, but even they turned us down.

By the way, did you know that in order to throw a party at a state park you have to pay.  $200 per hour, even if you’re only going to be there ten minutes it’s still $200.  Even what seemed like the cheapest option wasn’t even cheap.

The last place Jaime called was Ivar’s Salmon house (the nice restaurant at the north end of Lake Union not their fast food stand).  It seemed like a long shot but we loved the restaurant, it provided a wonderful view of the city right on the water, and boasted a beautifully remodeled banquet room.

As it turns out there was no deposit required for the room, the only requirement was that you spent at least $1500 on their delicious food.  For no fewer than seventy people this would not be a problem.

Here we were, a month into our engagement, we had a date, a dress, and a venue.  Though I’d still yet to present.  Jaime with her ring and ask the most important question of all. 

posted by: brian snider

familiar faces in an unfamiliar city

My wife Jaime grew up in Burien Washington, a small town just southwest of Seattle.  It’s the kind of place that they modeled Dawson’s Creek after.  Even now eight years after it went off the air, people still act like they are on that show.  I dislike Burien with the snobbish attitude of someone who spent the first fourteen years of their life in farm country.

I can fully admit that my distain for Burien is completely irrational.  The reason I hate going there is because every visit is never complete without Jaime exclaiming in a bar, or a store, or just walking down the street,

“I went to high school with that person.”

We would be sitting at a table in a restaurant and after a few minutes Jaime will disengage from our conversation and her gaze will drift over my shoulder.  Though I already know the answer I ask anyway.

“Did you go to high school with that person?”

She will shift in her chair to get a better view and reply,

“Yeah.  I did.”

There is one bar in particular that I have sworn off completely, not because it’s not a good or fun place to hang out, but because every night it is like one big high school reunion.

This might all have to do with a tinge of jealousy.  I am not in close contact with hardly anyone from High school and even fewer from junior high or elementary.  In the eight years that Jaime and I have been together, she has met maybe five people from my past.  When passing through my home town I will often point someone out I went to high school with but hardly even know.  Jaime on the other hand has had the same best friends since elementary school.  They are unusually close and could make anyone wish that they had friendships like their.

College was a difficult time for many in Burien, as they were forced to build friendships outside of their hometown.  Jaime was the first to date someone who they didn’t go to school with, and in return I was treated like an intruding alien.

When we moved to Los Angeles I expected these run-ins to end.  With the exception of two college friends, we knew no one.  I assumed that it was up to us to make new friends who we could run into.  At least those were my expectations.

Within the first week while walking down the street in our neighborhood, we ran into Joy, a college acquaintance who graduated the year before us.  We spotted Yolanda, another college acquaintance driving in a car behind us on Sunset boulevard.  Jaime and I stared inquisitively at a girl in the bank trying to determine if she went to our college as well.  It turns out she did.  An actual college friend worked as a buyer for Intelligensia coffee.

It seems that Cornish College alumni and drop outs were crawling all over LA popping out of cracks in walls and loose plumbing knobs, like the sugar ants who eventually infested my apartment.  Eventually the question changed to, “Did we go to college with that person?”

There would be similar incidents over the next three years, at restaurants, stores, and street corners.  At one point Jaime and I spent days trying to figure out how we knew a woman we’d spotted jogging past the Silverlake dog park.  Her face was so familiar that I could actually hear her voice and vaguely recall interactions we’d had.  Ultimately it was decided that she worked in the admissions office at Cornish.  We accepted this as truth until a week or so later when we sat down to breakfast at the Mustard Seed (our favorite breakfast spot in Los Feliz) where we realized that she was our waitress.

Gradually we made friends with locals as we became locals ourselves and the sea of faces became more familiar.  Friends moved to the city and friends visited, we would discuss people we knew mutually who’d crossed our paths and the strange incidents surrounding the likely hood of those run ins occurring in LA.

On a Saturday in September, a month before we moved back to Seattle, Jamie attended a Law School forum at the Biltmore hotel.  I went with her, mainly to hold stuff while she discussed the law programs with the various school representatives.  If there was ever a place that I expected not to see anyone we knew, this would have been it.

While waiting in line to meet with a prelaw advisor Jaime glanced over at a nearby booth, I could feel her gaze rise over my shoulder and she went silent.  

“I think I know that girl.  I think we went to high school together.”  I laughed realizing how long it had been since I’d heard her say that.  “I think that’s Lisa.”  She continued.

I assumed that Jaime was mistaken, that she was taking this game way too far.  She continued to analyze the girl for a time before determining that;

“Yes, it is definitely Lisa.”

We got out of line and skeptically walked up to her.  There was a pause for a moment of recognition before her face lit up and she smiled.  I couldn’t believe it.  1,100 miles from Burien and Jaime still managed to find someone she went to school with.

I realize now that nowhere is safe.  In any city, of any country, at any moment Jaime’s gaze could rise above my shoulder and become fixed on someone.  I will refuse to say anything and soon she will adjust in her seat and exclaim,

“I went to high school with that person.”