Table Full of Drinks

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• October 10, 2024

My mom’s side of the family (The George’s) are known for our particularly legendary weddings… at least in our own minds. We’re a bunch of drinking and dancing fools. I have big families on both my mom and dads side, and a large network of friends, so much so, that my friend Katrina has said she “never met anyone who goes to more weddings or has more cousins.”

The last George wedding (though I am one of four unmarried cousins, including my brother so hopefully not THE last) took place in Virginia for my cousin Ed and his wonderful wife, Jenny. It was at a place that looked like it was a historic plantation, which served as great material for all of us, who are relentless, and sometimes brutal, jokesters. Like all our family parties, there was plenty of dancing and drinking and mockery of all things, including (if not especially) each other.

When the bar at the venue said the bar would close an hour before the party ended, all my family was as appalled even though we were all pretty drunk as is. Bobby, my cousin Brittany’s husband, decided to continuously order drinks and fill our table with various concoctions so to quench our thirsts when the bar cut us off.

[Bobby, creating a personal ‘bar’ at one of the cousins tables]

Brittany is one of my closest cousins. We grew inseparable, and when we were separate, we were pen pals. Years ago, Brittany, Bobby and a friend of ours went to Iceland together.

[Me and Brittany as small children… and us at her bachelorette party]

[The Iceland crew!]

Because of how tight I was with Brittany, I used to be extra critical of anyone she dated. I wasn’t sure anyone would be good enough for her. But when we met Bobby, we all loved him immediately. Bobby is NYPD, also from a large (not quite as crazy) family. This is how much my family loves Bobby. When they were dating and would come over, my entire family (including my parents) had a running gag where we would literally push Brittany aside to hug Bobby. Even at her younger sister, Amanda’s, wedding, my entire family chanted his name when he was introduced, and in both Brittany’s speech (who was maid of honor) and my Uncle’s speech, they joked about Amanda having a husband everyone favored to their bride.

[Various dancing pictures from Amanda’s wedding, plus Bobby and Brittany when they entered when half the venue chanted his name]

My mother, when trying to guide my brother into being a better man, or specifically a better man towards women, uses Bobby as the prime example. Though this annoys my brother, he too agrees there are few better men around. In short, Bobby is a sweet and fun guy, on top of this he is hard working and an excellent husband and father. So much so, I blame my own singleness on Brittany and Bobby’s relationship because I want something “just as great.”

Back to Ed’s wedding where Bobby was hoarding a bunch of drinks at the table. At first we applauded him as a genius until we started tasting the drinks. I’d pick up one, sip it, “what the fuck is this? This is gross.”

“Well, try another, we have plenty,” he said.

So I would, only to have the same reaction. Each drink seemed to be worse than the last. “You couldn’t have just gotten a vodka soda?” They were mostly (if I remember, though I was hammered) liquor mixed with something sweet like ginger ale, coke or sprite. Blech! While I appreciated the sentiment, I complained about his horrid judgement on a decent elixir.

I was just in Virginia visiting my Virginia cousins and my Uncle. I was lamenting to my Uncle tales of dating, and how I didn’t think New York (or specifically New York City) was a good place to meet anyone decent. My Uncle is divorced, and between is ex-wife and current flame, he had his own tales of crazies. Though he admitted it is likely worse for women (he is a former cop with no shortage of tales of how awful men can be). He had one story of going on a date with a rather attractive woman who, in a first date, asked him if he was a millionaire (he’s not). She said, “do you think I’m beautiful.” He said yes. Then she said, “so I deserve to be with a millionaire.”

“How come I don’t have that entitlement,” I butted in. “Why don’t I walk around like with the attitude that I should be a trophy wife.”

He then said to her that if she were to marry a millionaire and then got in a car accident and her looks were ruined, he would have every right to divorce her since she wasn’t pretty anymore and therefore was not worthy of the millionaire, by her own logic. He said this really shocked her. Probably no one had ever spoken to her with a dose of reality and hint of mean sarcasm before (though my entire family is notorious for doing so). He didn’t see her after that.

The George’s can be a vain bunch (we have, on more than one occasion, nicknamed ourselves “the gorgeous Georges,” haha). But whatever standard we hold ourselves to in the mirror, we have a deeper standard when it comes to personality and especially humor. Looks are, of course, temporary. One doesn’t simply want to be with someone pretty or handsome, but you want someone, who, when the open bar is about to close, fills a table full of drinks— even if the drinks aren’t very good. It’s the thought that counts.