Dining Out

Last Saturday was the Air National Guard's Dining out at the Hyatt.
Months ago, Tim bought us some tickets. The hotel offered a discounted room price for the airmen, so we decided to make an evening of it.

Formal attire was required, so I wore a black evening gown a lady at church gave me. Tim was required to wear his Blues a certain way. Some of the older men (especially those higher up in the guard) had snazzy "mess dress" covered in metals and ribbons.

At the mixer, I was able to meet some of those "snazzy" older men who were Tim's supervisors. I shook hands with a lot of people, received some charming compliments, smiled a lot, and forgot a million names.

We met up with the Colliates, a couple from our church, and all decided to get our portraits taken before the dinner since I forgot my camera, and the hall was crowded, and we weren't buying drinks. (While in line, I recognized a couple from Halstead. I couldn't remember their names, but I'm sure they would know Eden or Dale, or even Paul.) Tim and I were excited to find that the two background options for the photos were extremely cheesy! We chose the blue-swirly background with a fake, wrought-iron fence, a wooden chest stacked with fake books in front of us, with an American flag off to the side. When we get the pictures in the mail, I'll be sure to post them.

The dinner itself reminded me somewhat of the Feast our school used to have. It took place in a huge ballroom, and there were over 500 guests. Over salad, we watched traditional ceremonies and then made several toasts. We were entertained by the banter of two officials on opposite sides of the room with microphones. They explained a strict, silly set of dining rules, and then explained the consequences.

A giant jayhawk-shaped drink dispenser was wheeled to one end of the room. Various people got reported for breaking rules, and each had to follow a silly procedure while toasting with the bird's drink. No one was allowed to clap, but we were given spoons which we used to bang on the table to show approval. Clapping would get you sent to the bird, or "Grog" as they called it. Other offenses I noticed that night were: bringing alcohol from the mixer into the ballroom, bringing in the hat with the uniform, leaving the room (even to go to the bathroom) and wearing the wrong ribbons. Only airmen went to the Grog, and higher officials at that. The only exception was a confused girl who was called up for no reason. Her boyfriend then got a mike and proposed to her. She looked truly surprised, which I found refreshing, and everyone was so excited, a few people even started clapping...

The silliness ended when dinner was served. Waiters squeezed around the tables with huge trays, and everyone chatted over grilled chicken and steak. I whispered in Tim's ear which silverware to use when, and he reminded me who people were, and that I had some food on my face. When I cleaned my plate and it got whisked away, I traded my apple-pie cake for Tim's dessert, which had sat on its fancy plate the whole meal. It was possibly the richest and tastiest chocolate cake I had ever had!

A speaker gave us a talk about the economy for a while, while I watched a few tables over where a slightly tipsy woman grow greener and greener till a few gentlemen escorted her out. Her eyes were big, and her cheeks were puffed out as she held her fist against her mouth. I wondered whether or not she threw up in the hall while I heard about China's quest for African resources.

Soon, the chaplain came and gave his benediction, and then the dance floor was opened, playing music for slow dancing, swing dancing, and jazzy dancing. The lights were dimmed and tables emptied as everyone got up to visit. Our evening ended overlooking Wichita from our 11th floor hotel room with a McDonald's drink and a good book.