Chris Walker Vs. The Marriage Card

Reluctantly, I’ve been chatting with the couple sitting beside me. They’re nice enough but it’s hard to understand what the man is saying, even though we’re both evidently speaking English. “Maybe you’ll make new friends!” the hostess said when she lead me to my table. Maybe I don’t want to make new friends, I thought; maybe I’ve been bullshitting with strangers and in meetings all day and now I’d prefer to just relax and gather my thoughts alone. Apparently, if you’re eating by yourself in Australia people take great pity on you.

The couple sitting next to me, swilling Corona and Jack and Diets, it’s their one year anniversary today. They’ve know each other over twenty years; they were married to other people prior; each divorced and then they fell in love. They both have their own kids, the youngest of which is three years old. I feign enthusiasm.

Near the end of the meal the woman gets up and leaves. The man, in his purple button-up and black, unbuttoned vest, leans over to me.
“I’ve got a marriage card and it gets me discounts here.”
“Really?” I say, perking up. I’m utterly fascinated. “Your marriage card gets you discounts on meals?”
“Yeah, mate,” he replies in his thick Aussie accent. “It gets you discounts on all sorts of things.”
“Wow. I guess it pays to be married in Australia.”
“Sure; my wife’s just run up to the room to get it.”

Moments later, the woman returns and hands him the card.

“See, mate,” he says, showing me the card. “my marriage card.”
I examine it; it’s a gold Marriott card. Wouldn’t you know it, the restaurant we’re dining in happens to be located inside of a Marriott hotel. I hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol to impair me yet here I was, under the impression that if you got married in Australia the government issued you a card that slashed prices on food throughout the country. Silly American.

Posted: May 10th, 2009 | Author: Chris Walker | Filed under: Travel | No Comments »