Writing Assignment 5 Draft 1

I leave my home, and the instant my journey begins men grapple over me, fighting to help me into the car, I love the extra attention these burly men lather on me, their guttural grunts excite me to my core. Once we arrive to the wedding both men fight over who has the pleasure to help me out of the car, the smaller man watches on the sidelines as his buddy escorts me into the reception hall, until he grabs my outer wraps, and stores them in the coat room. I lay in wait until I choose to be unveiled, unrolled and presented; front and center, dominating the scene, deep brown, waxed, and beautiful.  The men leave, and I sit alone, waiting for the guests to arrive.

Their presence become apparent at first by the swish-swish of their dresses and the clatter of coat hangers, dropped by clumsy hosts.  As this vast hall fills with friends and family of the bride and groom, they stand around me admiring my gorgeous exterior awkwardly chattering until the two guests of honor sweep into room. The man, with long broad heavy steps, and his new wife, with short unstable steps, unaccustomed to her tall heels stand tentatively on me. After a few uncomfortable but gracious words the party kicks off, and I regain my rightful spot as the center of attention at first only joined by the newlyweds, but the other guests acknowledge me as well.

The dancing and the revelries continue late into the night, and I remain the most important facet of the room. Until, as if a monsoon swept them away, everyone leaves, and I sit unattended and unloved as the young couple stands in front of a large table cutting and sharing food. This one act of insolence is the turning point of the night, and the night only progressively gets worse.

It starts with the clumsy eaters, propelled by children yearning to get their time with me, who spill their food and drink on me, the acidic soda and champagne eats away at my varnish and my beauty. Next are the clumsy dancers encouraged by an open bar and a multitude of single women yearning for their soul mate. The scuffs their shoes make mar my surface and irk me. I just want to go back to my cool warehouse, and spend some time decompressing.

I have never been happier then when the party finally winds down. The entire family seems to make a point of standing and walking across me as they leave. And my two heroes finally come back and rescue me from the empty expanse.  They are late, as usual. The take no time to remove the scuff marks or clean off the sticky marks of spilled soda and beer. I’m roughly shoved into my case, and back into the van, and it seems as if the two meatheads driving hit every pothole and every speed bump at full throttle.  Finally I’m unloaded and home.