Forget about the fact that I’m a month late with this blog. That’s only true if we accept an arbitrary assignment calendar that requires me to post something at least once a month (I know – it used to be a lot more often than that). Instead, I will accept that I am a day late, because what I am going to tell you about happened 30 years ago yesterday.

In Florida, we expect a mid-July day to bring temperatures well into the 90′s. That’s not normally the case, though, in Binghamton, New York, where any kind of heat, or sunshine for that matter, is an unusual occurrence. But on July 15, 1979, the thermometer in Binghamton rose to about 95º, meaning it was not the most comfortable day to be dressed in a tuxedo. But I was. And so were a handful of my friends, who were part of the wedding party that day when Sue and I said, “I do.”

There is every likelihood that no one in attendance that day can recall the vows that we spoke, even though we wrote them ourselves. The band was good, but not memorable, although I do give them credit for obeying our instructions not to play “Feelings” or “Joy to the World (Jeremiah was a bullfrog),” at the risk of not getting paid. No, it was the lingering memories of the fine meal that day that no one will ever forget.

Our wedding and reception were held at Morey’s Restaurant, a fine establishment, still in business in Binghamton, and well regarded by everyone. On July 15, 1979, however, they didn’t quite follow the prescribed cooking instructions on the Chicken Cordon Bleu that was served to most of our guests. It was a prepared entree, uncooked but frozen, when it arrived in their kitchen. The directions said something like, “Bake at 350º for 30 minutes, then at 325º for 10 more.” But apparently, perhaps in an effort to save time, the chef guessed that 325º for about half an hour would be fine. It wasn’t.

Everything was fine at the wedding, and the next day, Sue and I headed out for our two-week honeymoon in Maine and New Hampshire. We stopped for dinner at a steakhouse, and I ate way too much, including a very unnecessary dessert. When we got back to our room, officially on our honeymoon night, I didn’t feel very good. There are classic stories of new brides locking themselves in the bathroom on their honeymoon night, but in this case, it was the groom, and it had nothing to do with fear, but everything to do with nausea. As one might, I blamed that night’s dinner. When Sue had the same symptoms a night or two later, we pointed to the lobster dinner we had just feasted on. It made for an interesting start to the honeymoon, for sure.

We sent a post card to Sue’s mother. It said something like, “First day, Al was sick. Third day, Sue was sick. In between, we drove all day. Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.” When that post card was received, it set off some alarms. It seems that several other wedding guests had reported stomach problems, with a few even missing work and seeking emergency room care. Sue’s mom called the local health department to ask what might be the symptoms of food poisoning. They, in turn, became very interested, and started an investigation.

The undercooked Chicken Cordon Bleu was determined to be the cause of distress for approximately 70% of the people at our wedding. The lucky 30% were either served late, or opted to have fish instead (an interesting reversal of the situation in the movie Airplane). Since we were the guests of honor, of course, we were served first. Lucky us.

If you’re wondering whether we filed a lawsuit against Morey’s Restaurant, the answer is no. They were great to work with in all aspects of our planning. They accommodated all of our requests, and we had a really nice wedding on a shoestring budget. OK, people got sick. I know that. But a lawsuit could have required that people come back to Binghamton, reveal how much they lost in earnings, etc., and it did not seem like the right thing to do.

So here we are, 30 years later. We haven’t been back to Morey’s, and we haven’t been back to Maine or New Hampshire either, but I don’t think we’d exclude either if the opportunity presented itself. Supposedly, rain on one’s wedding day is a good omen. I don’t know what might be portended by very hot temperatures outside and insufficient temperatures inside (the oven), but if the end result can be taken as evidence, then after 30 years together, I’d say we did pretty darn well.

P.S. Sue has not eaten Chicken Cordon Bleu since.

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 16th, 2009 at 4:53 pm and is filed under Al. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.