It was 7 am, the morning after my wedding party that I was awakened by my father’s call. He called straight to the hotel room, and I regretted not notifying the reception of not transferring any calls, but I never expected anyone to actually call. My new wife and I retired to our suite around 1 am, and we were in bed within the hour in order to catch a morning flight out to our honeymoon destination. We put our mobile phones on silent, and the thought that anybody would have the audacity to call never crossed our celebratory simple minds. Nevertheless, it was 7 am and I found myself talking to my father.
My voice was coarse, my ears were ringing from the night of loud music, my head was thumping, partly due to lack of sleep. My father seemed happy when I answered and asked right away “Shoo Baba? Did you pierce the tambourine?” My wife was stirring next to me and I started throwing random words of greeting. He figured I couldn’t answer his invasive partly humorous question and went to the core of the reason he called.
“We enjoyed your wedding, but there were some things we didn’t like, I will tell you about them once you return from your honeymoon. Don’t worry about it much, we shall speak once you return. Have a safe trip and enjoy your time. Your mother wants to speak to you.”
I imagined I would wake up in the vast honeymoon suite with my tender bride by my side. The first morning I ever wake up to a female; we would cuddle in bed for a while, then find our way to the dining room where a complimentary royal breakfast would await us. We’ll chatter the morning away about our wedding and how excited we were about what’s coming up in our lives. We’d finish off our packing to the honeymoon and take a taxi to the airport.
My mother took the receiver, echoed my father’s words and broadcasted that they are coming over to take us to the airport. I pleaded with her not to, and that we can easily arrange ourselves with a taxi, but she would hear none of it. They want to get off on the right foot with my new wife and show her that we are one big happy family. They want to make things easy on their son, so they will come take us.
That was the beginning of a tricky relationship, where my parents would do things for my comfort, and out of compassion for their feelings, I would agree to whatever they are offering. Instead of being comforted, I end up being overwhelmed. However, abiding to their comforting gestures is not always perfect from my behalf, resulting in everybody’s discomfort.
Within the hour, we guzzled down our complimentary breakfast, which I have no recollection of what I ate, and were checked out and standing in front of the hotel waiting for my parent’s car to take us to the airport. My wife was able to find the humor in all of this, and as we waited she gave several scenarios where it could have been worse. At the very least they didn’t wait for us outside the door in the night of our wedding waiting for you to take them the bloody bed sheet as proof of her virginity, an ancient tradition that thankfully has ceased to exist some hundred years ago.
Once in the car, my mother made a few comments that my wife should have been wearing a white suit as all newlyweds do when they fly on their honeymoon. My father awkwardly mentioned that he told me to buy wedding pajama.
My wife had to go through lengthy arguments with her mother before the wedding that it is not only uncomfortable to travel in a white, it was also ridiculous. I had to talk my father through the logic that my new wife will not care what I wear to bed the first night.
In jeans, t-shirts and slippers, we got to the airport, checked in our luggage that didn’t include a wedding pajama, and boarded our flight to our destination. In the plane the lady next to us asked us if we were newlyweds. “Taza!” was what we responded. Fresh! Poor lady must have been confused as to why my wife wasn’t dressed in a white suit.