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FROM THE MARGINS: RULES GO OUT THE WINDOW
By Patrick Azadian
Glendale News Press, CA
Aug. 28, 2006
Long before the movie "The Wedding Crashers" hit the silver screen,
my friend and I decided to crash an Armenian wedding. At the time,
my office was conveniently located across from the Royal Palace
banquet hall.
As we casually stepped into the lobby, a Russian security guard
greeted us.
He asked us which side of the family we belonged to. "We are Armen's
friends," I said. The guard was not impressed and inquired about
Armen's last name.
"Armen Sarkissian," I said, and followed it up with a question to
distract him. "Can you call him out for us?" I asked.
Within seconds we were being escorted out to the front door.
Meanwhile, I had a chance to squeeze in a few words to save face:
"Armen's going to be very disappointed; he was looking forward to
seeing us."
I could hear the Russian mumble: "Da, da..." advertisement
Recently, after seeing "The Wedding Crashers" on cable, I received
an invitation to a local Armenian wedding. This was my opportunity
to test the "crasher's rule book" in a real-life situation.
I lived close enough to the hall to be able to walk there. MGM
Banquet Hall is right around the corner from my apartment. The name
MGM (associated with Kirk Krikorian, the Armenian version of Donald
Trump) is a common name for many Armenian establishments. Apparently,
it's a source of pride by association.
As I stepped into the hall, the mother of the groom was personally
greeting all guests. She immediately identified me as a potential
outcast and asked about my wedding credentials. Thankfully, they
already had a table card in my name.
I realized there would be little room for improvisation for potential
crashers.
Rule No. 2 of the rule book, which suggests never using your real name,
seemed obsolete.
To meet any women at these weddings, the process should start with some
kind of eye contact. Rule No. 13 states, "bridesmaids are desperate:
console them." Well, not at an Armenian wedding.
First, because the bridesmaids are not desperate; they know exactly
to whom they will be married, even if the guy has no idea.
And second, making eye contact is considered a health hazard. Most
girls are taken at young age. Focusing your eyes on the floral
centerpiece is highly recommended, no matter what the rum and coke
are telling you to do.
Making that ill-advised eye contact may be enough to cause you to
hit the pavement hard.
Rule No. 11 states that "sensitive is good." Rule No. 53 is similar
in spirit. During the ceremony it's suggested to get choked up. The
logic is for girls to think you're sensitive.
As large segments of the Armenian community remain homophobic, it is
dangerous to show any signs of emotion as a man. As a matter of fact,
being sensitive, managing to be slim after high school or wearing a
pink shirt can eliminate you from the competition for all the wrong
reasons. This is no place for softies.
Rule No. 58: "The Ferrari is in the shop." Whether the Ferrari is
actually at the shop or not, regardless of income level, the right
car is a basic requirement, not an advantage. Keep your dignity;
don't brag about what's not at the shop.
Rule No. 108 recommends knowing your swing and salsa steps. Girls
supposedly love to get twisted around.
Standing a the edge of the dance floor, I realized all the years of
salsa lessons in an effort to meet my own version of Eva Mendes had
gone to waste.
My money would have been better spent taking up "kazachok" (A
Russian/Ukrainian folk dance in which high kicks are made from a
squatting position). The dance is a firm favorite at Armenian weddings.
At the expense of sounding like an ingrate, at some point I realized
I was not having much fun. No disrespect to the hosts, the wedding
was great; but it's not easy when you don't know anyone, and staring
is not an option.
And although by this time I had decided the crasher's rule book was a
total waste, Rule No. 12 sounded quite reasonable: "When it stops being
fun, breaking something is recommended." I had my eyes on the pair
of large porcelain lions (symbolizing MGM) near the dance floor, but
I could not reach them without bringing too much attention upon myself.
I left quietly with my tail between my legs.
By Patrick Azadian
Glendale News Press, CA
Aug. 28, 2006
Long before the movie "The Wedding Crashers" hit the silver screen,
my friend and I decided to crash an Armenian wedding. At the time,
my office was conveniently located across from the Royal Palace
banquet hall.
As we casually stepped into the lobby, a Russian security guard
greeted us.
He asked us which side of the family we belonged to. "We are Armen's
friends," I said. The guard was not impressed and inquired about
Armen's last name.
"Armen Sarkissian," I said, and followed it up with a question to
distract him. "Can you call him out for us?" I asked.
Within seconds we were being escorted out to the front door.
Meanwhile, I had a chance to squeeze in a few words to save face:
"Armen's going to be very disappointed; he was looking forward to
seeing us."
I could hear the Russian mumble: "Da, da..." advertisement
Recently, after seeing "The Wedding Crashers" on cable, I received
an invitation to a local Armenian wedding. This was my opportunity
to test the "crasher's rule book" in a real-life situation.
I lived close enough to the hall to be able to walk there. MGM
Banquet Hall is right around the corner from my apartment. The name
MGM (associated with Kirk Krikorian, the Armenian version of Donald
Trump) is a common name for many Armenian establishments. Apparently,
it's a source of pride by association.
As I stepped into the hall, the mother of the groom was personally
greeting all guests. She immediately identified me as a potential
outcast and asked about my wedding credentials. Thankfully, they
already had a table card in my name.
I realized there would be little room for improvisation for potential
crashers.
Rule No. 2 of the rule book, which suggests never using your real name,
seemed obsolete.
To meet any women at these weddings, the process should start with some
kind of eye contact. Rule No. 13 states, "bridesmaids are desperate:
console them." Well, not at an Armenian wedding.
First, because the bridesmaids are not desperate; they know exactly
to whom they will be married, even if the guy has no idea.
And second, making eye contact is considered a health hazard. Most
girls are taken at young age. Focusing your eyes on the floral
centerpiece is highly recommended, no matter what the rum and coke
are telling you to do.
Making that ill-advised eye contact may be enough to cause you to
hit the pavement hard.
Rule No. 11 states that "sensitive is good." Rule No. 53 is similar
in spirit. During the ceremony it's suggested to get choked up. The
logic is for girls to think you're sensitive.
As large segments of the Armenian community remain homophobic, it is
dangerous to show any signs of emotion as a man. As a matter of fact,
being sensitive, managing to be slim after high school or wearing a
pink shirt can eliminate you from the competition for all the wrong
reasons. This is no place for softies.
Rule No. 58: "The Ferrari is in the shop." Whether the Ferrari is
actually at the shop or not, regardless of income level, the right
car is a basic requirement, not an advantage. Keep your dignity;
don't brag about what's not at the shop.
Rule No. 108 recommends knowing your swing and salsa steps. Girls
supposedly love to get twisted around.
Standing a the edge of the dance floor, I realized all the years of
salsa lessons in an effort to meet my own version of Eva Mendes had
gone to waste.
My money would have been better spent taking up "kazachok" (A
Russian/Ukrainian folk dance in which high kicks are made from a
squatting position). The dance is a firm favorite at Armenian weddings.
At the expense of sounding like an ingrate, at some point I realized
I was not having much fun. No disrespect to the hosts, the wedding
was great; but it's not easy when you don't know anyone, and staring
is not an option.
And although by this time I had decided the crasher's rule book was a
total waste, Rule No. 12 sounded quite reasonable: "When it stops being
fun, breaking something is recommended." I had my eyes on the pair
of large porcelain lions (symbolizing MGM) near the dance floor, but
I could not reach them without bringing too much attention upon myself.
I left quietly with my tail between my legs.