My car has parking sensors, which for a terrible driver like myself, are a godsend. Looking over my shoulder to spot a rogue bollard post or mailbox has become a thing of the past, as I stare out the windshield listening for a series of German beeps.
You might be wondering why the fuck I’m rambling on about automobile technology right now. We had just arrived at a mansion overlooking vineyards for a wedding we were catering. Catering is easy money, and if you’re a new restaurant, no matter how successful, you really need money. I was backing my car out of the sweeping driveway, weaving in and out between rental vans and SUV’s, listening to those short beeps when I felt the gash, and the scraping of steel. The planter was less than a foot tall - too short to get picked up by technology, but just tall enough to sideswipe a car helmed by a careless driver. I should have taken that as a celestial warning sign to drive back to the restaurant, abandoning The Chef and two other cooks.
If you’re the person who's been building your dream wedding on Pinterest for the last five years, stop reading. Look away.
I’m here to smash all your dreams.
Just don’t do it. Don’t be the bridezilla hinging your entire life on your wedding day – life has more to offer than you running around being an absurd bitch. You’re worth more than making everyone present in the service industry secretly hate you. Don’t expect that you’ll receive the same dining experience as a restaurant when your caterers are working in a makeshift kitchen… one set up outside the front porch since none of the appliances could fit through the alleyway to the backyard. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it's really, really hard. Folding plastic tables are our countertops, meaning a group of hunchbacks are plating your food by the end of the night. Chances are there’s not enough electrical outlets, so we’re left with just a six burner range and a hot box for the entire evening, while the convection oven is used as storage.
If you do however, decide not to heed my warning, do this - make sure everything else goes wrong. Make sure your allegedly gluten free kids are extra bratty, and your guests are late. Realize your idea of making everyone walk ten minutes uphill to the ceremony is a rational one, so your wedding gets pushed a half hour behind, and so you can buy your caterers more time to make a giant vat of risotto on a rickety Imperial range. (Just don’t ever have your unmonitored kids throw pillows at us just as we’re walking in with said vat of risotto.)
If you're reading, you're invited to my wedding. The in-n-out truck will be happily handing out Double Doubles to everyone.