This past weekend I partook in a doozie of a bridal trade
show. I’ll admit I wasn’t amused by the idea. I seemed to have a mental block
on the whole thing and kept putting off plans for my booth’s décor and didn’t
take a vase inventory until the day before. That’s a risky a move Big Lu. This
bridal show had over one hundred vendors in tow. Everything from florists to
caterers, limos and drivers, venues, bridal gowns, hotels, dance floors, cakes,
photo booths, travel agents, and even a plastic surgeon to help you fill out
your wedding dress, if you know what I mean. And then there was me. The grumpy
florist, a lone giggler in a sea of extravagance and up-talk. Naturally I made
Ellen come with me. She can relate to those with visions of luxury and she’s
much better at handling trendy women.
On Friday I picked up my flowers and made my showpiece
arrangement. On Saturday Mom and I drove parts of my display to the auditorium
where we hung my embarrassingly large sign and did a trial run of the table
setting I had drawn up in my mind having only just established my vase
inventory. On Sunday morning Ellen came over at 9:30 complaining about the rain
outside and reminding me she could be in bed sleeping. “Thank you for your
input.” I told her and then we loaded my big arrangement into my car. Ellen
rode with a dozen tiny vases on a crate in her lap. I drove the car like the
whole thing was made of glass and Ellen shrieked at every clink of every vase.
“Don’t worry.” I told her, “It sounds worse than it is. Flowers and vases are
tougher than you think. I do this all the time!” With that, a red light turned
green, I tapped the gas, and my big beautiful arrangement did a face-plant in
the back of my car. Ellen gasped. I sighed and my shoulders slowly inched up to
the bottoms of my ears. “Pull over! We’ll fix it!” Ellen shouted but I decided
the damage was done and we may as well the drive the remaining four blocks to
the venue. When I popped it back upright, my arrangement looked like someone
had sat on it and I quietly fumed while Ellen unloaded the car with her hasty
little steps. I was short with Ellen for three minutes before I realized a
quick fix and then I was embarrassed for having been so angsty about it. Once
my mood recovered, Ellen went back to being burdened by the existence of the
bridal show.
The show itself went very well. There were 800 people milling around, sampling cakes, and having their hair brushed by professionals. Ellen and I chatted with lots of newly engaged couples and Ellen was great about dispensing information about Lux & Union. I was more interested in watching the men make their way down the aisles of girly crap. Some looked truly frightened. Others kept their eyes on the ground. One guy stared as his hands and said, "Oh yeah, really pretty" in response to anything his fiancé said.
At one point, as I finished telling a bride why she can't have Spring flowers at her Fall wedding, I looked over and noticed Ellen was gone. I found her a few minutes later, under our display table eating wedding cake samples and key lime pie.
Across the aisle from us was a fella named Coleman who works for a tuxedo rental company. Coleman and I became fast friends. He thought Ellen and I were very silly gals and he would wander over to our table anytime he wasn't busy with potential clients. Coleman stole the show that day. Coleman made a point of shaking hands with every bride. "Who's getting married?" he'd say to gaggle of girls. They'd all point at the bride and he'd look her straight in the eyes, shake her hand, and congratulate her. He had a way with the ladies. A lovable flirt with big, warm eyes, Coleman wooed and delighted everyone that walked by. Now when fellas came by, Coleman sprung into action. "You there! Hey you! You getting married?" and some petrified fella would nod his head. Coleman would hurdle over tables and shimmy past strollers to extend his hand the the groom. "My name is Coleman..." he would say and then launch into a comedy routine of a sales pitch. People stopped to listen to him even though they had no use for a tuxedo. The vendors on either side of me would inch closer to catch a bit of his banter. I would listen to him in-between my own weak-pitches and once I overheard him say, "We've got every size from midget to Shaquille O'Neal."
When he was done he would come back over to our table. I would imitate his spiel, Ellen would say something sassy, and then he would pull his hat down over his face and belly laugh. We fed him cupcakes and talked about life and saw pictures of his three beautiful little girls. People like Coleman with their great personalities and great attitudes are such refreshing people to come upon. They make you hopeful somehow and excited to see what becomes of them. Coleman wants to own his own business someday and I reckon when he finds out what it's going to be, he's going to steal that show too.
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