For those of you who are married then you know what it’s like to tell your spouse’s parents that you’re engaged. And for those of you who aren’t, all I can say is “Good Luck”.
My now wife Heather and I had only known each other for about 5 months when we announced to her mom and dad that we were getting engaged. To say that the news came as a shock to them is an epic understatement. Not only did it happen fast but she was only 19 years old when she dropped that bombshell on them. It was the night before she was to fly home to Wisconsin for Christmas. I remember being in the room with her when she made the phone call. I must admit, I had absolutely no intention of getting on the phone, I was just an frightened bystander. As soon as she had delivered the joyful news, in fact before she was done, her father announced “GET THE BOY HERE.” No way to dodge this bullet, so I arranged a quick flight to the midwest. I got a good deal, a bereavement deal. The airline asked me who had died. When I told them it was me, they actually laughed and helped me get a flight out.
I had a couple of days before my execution, I mean before meeting the parents, so I thought It would be a good idea to do some quick Christmas shopping for the future fam. I hit the mall and tried my best to find gifts I really thought they’d like. Dad got a bunch of old-school candy and Mom got soaps and lotions from Crabtree & Evelyn. So armed with two giant gift baskets complete with big ribbons and bows I made the trip from Salt Lake City to Milwaukee. Heather was there at the airport to greet me. As she drove to her home I was blown away by the homes I saw bordering Lake Michigan. They were magnificent and made the house I grew up in look like a back yard shed. She assured me that everything would be fine. Mhmm.
I want to say that the meeting started out wonderfully, I want to say that but I really don’t think I can. What happened next was the adventure of a lifetime—one that would leave me questioning everything I thought I knew about love, family, medicine, and bathroom scales.
As I stepped across the threshold, I was greeted immediately by mom and dad. The gift baskets were presented, a couple of general pleasantries were exchanged and her father, under his breath, pronounced me a “Brown Noser.” Nobody else heard it but I did. I definitely heard it.
Next in line was her brother. A man with the steely gaze of a CIA interrogator and the wit of a stand-up comedian on a caffeine high. With a barrage of questions that would make the Spanish Inquisition blush, he grilled me like a bratwurst at a summer barbecue. When he was satisfied I was broken he left me sitting in the living room sweating more than a polar bear in a sauna.
For some reason I thought the worst was behind me. It wasn’t. I was blindsided by her mother. A woman who I was told was very proper and a stickler for etiquette. Which she certainly was, what I wasn’t told though is that she was also master prankster. So there I was sitting in the kitchen with mom in hard, straight-backed wooden chairs. She didn’t necessarily beat me down with hard questions, we just chatted. About 5-minutes in though I heard a little rumble. I knew it wasn’t me but I thought no way was that her. Then it happened again, and again, and again. I was mortified. As our conversation wrapped up she let me in on the gag. She had placed a whoopee cushion on her own chair and strategically moved so it would, well you know. After that experience I was feeling like things may actually be okay. The night wound down without incident and I went to bed.
Next morning I got cleaned up and dressed for breakfast. Heather, her mom, sisters her brother were all there. It was a lovely morning. I suddenly remembered I had a couple of more things for the family and excused myself to go upstairs to the room I was staying in to retrieve them. Just when I thought things couldn't get any more surreal, they did. I opened the door and there was my future father-in-law standing in my room, naked as a newborn baby and weighing himself on a bathroom scale that had no business being anywhere but the bathroom. To top it all off he bellowed “good morning John” and stuck his arm out in an invitation to shake his hand. There went the lovely morning.
Amidst the chaos and confusion, there was a glimmer of hope. Heather’s sisters, bless their hearts, were normal and nice, offering me a lifeline of sanity in an otherwise insane world. Yet even as I basked in the warmth of their kindness, I couldn't shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.
And drop it did, in the form of a sudden illness that struck me down like a bolt of lightning from the heavens above. As I lay in bed, delirious and feverish, my future bride-to-be attempted to nurse me back to health with a cocktail of Robitussin, Tylenol, and NyQuil. Little did she know, her mother had similar plans. Unbeknownst to anyone else in the family, she gave me a little something extra from her personal medicine cabinet—a couple of doses of Xanax. I slept for 17 hours straight, dreaming of a future filled with love, laughter, and the occasional whoopee cushion.
Once I was better and cleared to fly, it was time to head back to Salt Lake. As Heather and I sat on the plane back to Salt Lake, she turned to me with a very concerned look on her face and asked me, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Without missing a beat I replied, “I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
So there you have it—how I met my future in-laws. It was a bit nerve-wracking but also one of the greatest experiences of my life.
