Complete boredom overtook me as I looked at my biology homework. Not only was the material hard to comprehend but I was being forced to understand it in a cramped, dimly lit, fast moving area; namely a car. It was my father’s genius idea to accept the invitation to his third cousin twice removed’s wedding reception. Now this would be of no concern to me but the party was in Delaware, on a Tuesday night, in the middle of midterm week. For any teenager this would cause mild discomfort, for a freshman scholar it required full blown panic attacks and hyperventilating.

I gave up trying to study and simply concentrated on remembering all the facts I remembered about single-celled organisms and their systems. After what seemed like hours we arrived at a quaint Asian style restaurant. Other than almost tripping on my skirt and falling on black ice I was able to successfully get out of the van. The restaurant itself was nothing remarkable. After passing by a serene min-waterfall with a pond in the reception area, the inside held Buddha statues and had lots of plants scattered around. The party area was scarcely decorated and the tables were close together. The only ornate furniture was at the front of the room. Two thrones colored silver and red sat next to each other in front of a low table. In most Bengali weddings this was common; the thrones were of course for the newly wed bride and groom.

I picked a seat close to the discrete radiators that lined the walls and sat down for a long night of fake smiling and awkward conversation. Guests started to slowly stream in. The “aunties” were all adorned with bright swaths of silk, gold, and henna. Many of the men had simply worn their good suit. Let the mingling begin.

The only thing on my mind at this point was the food. Honestly I think the only reason my family even comes to half of these weddings is because of the food. And let me tell you the food does not disappoint. Usually there is a buffet system, with 3 courses included: the appetizer, the main course and dessert. This wedding was no exception. Food was everywhere. Heaps and heaps of it expanding five extremely long tables. Steaming dumplings, spicy soup, delectable shrimp, and crispy samosas, almost every Asian style dish was there. I have been known to eat a lot in my family and I do confess I love food. Honestly if it were legal I would marry food.

Seeing almost all my favorite dishes under one roof was insane. Quickly grabbing a large plate I started making my way around, not caring that etiquette called for me to be picky. I piled everything from shrimp buns to brown rice onto my plate. When I walked back to our table my mom looked at my plate and rolled her eyes. I ignored her as well as my teasing brother and began to eat. I can’t even properly describe the emotion I felt while taking that first bite. It was like my taste buds were having a party in my mouth. After finishing my plate full of food I looked around. People were still eating slowly talking in between bites. I looked pleadingly across the table at my younger brother. He sighed and got up to fill up another plate. Though I don’t care about how much is on my plate I always feel awkward getting seconds. Having a younger brother who knows my preferences comes in handy at a time like this.

My brother comes back with two plates piled high and I dive my fork into my guilty pleasure. Not caring about the stunned expressions of the family next to us.