Category: default || By jt3y

One of the guys I knew in high school is a line officer now at the Munhall Gardens Volunteer Fire Department. Mike called me Saturday: "I'm up the truck hall. You gotta get up here."

"What's up?"

"Don't ask questions, just get up here."

Mike's "office" is actually an old steel desk at the front of the garage. I found him pacing back and forth in front of the American La France pumper, rubbing his hands together nervously.

"What's so important that I had to drive all the way over here?" I asked.

"You can't tell nobody about this, but I hadda tell someone, or I was gonna explode," Mike said. "I just booked the hall for a wedding on April 8."

"Big deal!"

"For 'Mr. and Mrs. Charles Windsor'!"

"Again, big deal."

"Boy, you're dense. Didn't you used to work for the newspaper?"

"I worked for a bunch of them. Some of them even admit it."

"OK, so don't you read the news? The Windsors? As in future King of England but just now getting re-married Prince Charles? That Charles?"

"So what are you trying to say, that the freaking Prince of Wales is getting married at the Munhall Gardens fire hall?" I said. "Yinz gotta open a garage door once in a while when you run the trucks. The exhaust fumes are getting to your brain."

"He's not getting married at the fire hall, jagoff," Mike said. "He's getting married down at Torkowsky's office in Munhall, probably. I told him St. Matthew's down in Homestead is a 'piscopal church, but it's supposed to be a civil ceremony, 'cause what's-her-face is divorced. Anyway, if I can't get the magistrate to do it, I'll ask the mayor."

I rubbed my eyes. "OK, I'll humor you: Why would Prince Charles want to get married in Munhall?"

"He's P.O.'d at the media in Britain. Didn't you see the news over the weekend? He was skiin', and they kept askin' about his weddin', and he said he was sick of those 'bloody people.' I told the guy at the embassy all Munhall got is the Valley Mirror and they only come out once a week."

"The embassy?"

"The British embassy. Yeah. So listen to this. I come in Friday night to help with the bingo and there's a message on the answering machine. Some funny area code. Well, you can't make long distance calls down here in the truck hall no more, so I had to use the phone in the chief's office."

Mike pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his coat pocket and shook one loose, then fumbled with a Bic lighter. It took his shaky hands several tries to light the cigarette, and when it finally caught, he took a long, deep drag.

"Anyway," Mike said, "I called, guy with a English accent answers, starts askin' all these questions: Is the hall available Friday afternoon? Sure, I said, as long as you're done by 6:30, cause that's when the early birds start arrivin'. He wants to know, do we have a big parking lot? Biggest one in the Valley, I said. Big enough to land a helicopter? he wants to know. Sure, I mean, Life Flight uses our parking lot all the time."

"You still didn't answer my question," I said. "Why Munhall Gardens?"

"Don't you remember?" Mike said. "Like 15 years ago? The Prince came to look around the Mon Valley when the mills were closin' down? Well, it turns out he liked it so much that he wants to come back for a visit. I told the guy from the embassy that we didn't grow tulips like the Prince wanted, but that we built the Waterfront, so we got something done. I'm just sorry Chiodo's closed."

"This whole thing gets dumber and dumber," I said. "How the hell are the Munhall Gardens police gonna handle security?"

"I already talked to the cops. They're cancelin' all of the vacations and callin' in the sheriff. I thought that was pretty funny --- the sheriff protectin' the Prince, like the sheriff of Nottingham, you know? And we got the fire police, and some of those guys are more gung-ho than the Airborne Rangers --- anyone tries to cause trouble, they're liable to get a mouthful of loose teeth."

"I just still can't believe that the Prince of Wales, the future King of England, isn't gettin' married in England," I said. "That doesn't make sense."

"Him and what's her face are flyin' back to England right after the reception for a religious ceremony at one of the castles," Mike said. "That's why they need the helicopter. I guess the Prince's jet is gonna land up at the County Airport."

"If this is a big secret, why do they need a hall for the reception?" I said.

"Well, they wanna have a few witnesses, and like I said, the Prince liked the Mon Valley hospitality years ago," Mike said. "So the guys from the department and their wives are all comin' --- no sweatpants, I told 'em, strictly dress uniforms --- and I invited the Women's Welsh Club and the St. David's Society and the St. Andrew's Society. I asked the guy if I should invite the Ancient Order of Hibernians, too, but he said I better not."

"What are you servin'?" I said.

"They ain't stayin' for dinner, which is a shame," Mike said. "We got a deluxe package with Conrad Catering, you get fried chicken, rigatoni, stuffed cabbage, halushki, cole slaw, potato salad, the whole thing. But we're just gonna get some scones and tea cakes. You think Giant Eagle has them?"

"Better check Sam's Club, you might get a better price."

"Good point," Mike said. "We need a bunch of streamers, too. British colors are red, white and blue, right? So that's OK. You gotta promise me, you're not gonna tell nobody until Friday, right? Don't even write about it on your stupid web thing."

"No one reads my web thing anyway," I said, "but my lips are sealed."

"Boy, this is really gonna put our fire hall on the maps," Mike said. When I left, he was trying to figure out how to fit "WELCOME HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS CHARLES THE PRINCE OF WALES" onto the marquee out front.

Well, as it turns out, I can write about it now, because Mike called me last night and said the deal was off.

"The queen found out and had a conniption fit," Mike said. "So they're going back to their original plans to have the wedding in England. And besides, it looks like it's getting postponed for a day because of the pope's funeral, and I told the embassy we need the hall Saturday for the Krupinskis' wedding anniversary."

"You must be disappointed," I said.

"You don't know the half of it," Mike said. "I even went up to Sam's Club like you said."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I can use up the streamers, but what the hell am I supposed to do with forty cases of scones?"