Wow. So the bridal expo was, surprisingly, not as painful as we’d anticipated. You know what else I hadn’t anticipated? Free food and drinks. One of the first vendors we stumbled across happened to be a bartender. His entire exhibit was a table full of various bottles of booze, and a bucket of ice. What’s that now? You’d like to make us cocktails? I thought you’d never ask.
Fortified with Crown Royal, we wandered further into the jungle of proffered sangria, pasta nibbles, empanadas, cupcakes, crostini, cheese and nut plates, and bacon-stuffed mushrooms. As we passed a booth a lady called out, “Want some champagne?” Ummm… yes? She reeled us in like a couple of gaping fish. OK, we will smile and nod at your winery wedding venue pitch in exchange for a bubbly beverage, thankyouverymuch.
AND YET. And yet. It ended up being more than just a free grab for whatever we could cram down our gullets. I walked out of there with a real appreciation for having been able to talk to real vendors—photographers, caterers—and get a sense of them as people. A lot of vendor relationships, I think, can be forged in the first few moments of speaking with them. Of the photographers I encountered, one seemed sneaky, one looked genuinely terrified, and another appeared incredibly geeky, awkward, and honest. Guess which one I would revisit?
It was the same thing with the caterers. I immediately disliked one guy in particular—predictably, I heard later from a venue coordinator that she had to fire his company a mere three weeks before her wedding. The flip side of that coin is is the caterer that the beau and I both really like. He was funny, easygoing, and knowledgeable about area venues, right down to the name of each venue’s coordinator. We definitely want to meet again with him.
It wouldn’t have been a bridal expo, though, without the trappings of the industry. For starters, we were given a giant hot pink paper bag to carry collateral in; the beau looked particularly sharp with it dangling from his hand. Everywhere—everywhere—was plastered with smarmy soft-focus images of beaming brides in white dresses and veils. Too many exhibitors seemed to talk only to me; a photobooth rental representative waxed enthusiastic about “my big day!” until I reminded her it was my fiance’s, too, and the head of a catering company locked onto my eyes and delivered me a personalized five-minute pitch while the poor beau stood wordlessly by my side. Also, I witnessed an outburst from a disgruntled expo attendee who was shouting at what was ostensibly her mother and her future groom, “but I’M the BRIDE!!!!” Gah.
I would totally go back again for those cupcakes, though.
