Savage Wedding

So I sat in honored place beside my family at round table during a certain wedding ceremony. A native american man approached our table and greeted my mother with kindness, as she was across the table from him and the two could not reach out to one another without a break in form. As thoughts of artifice and propriety brought a smile to my face, I reached out and shook the blocky, be-charmed hand at the end of the indian's half extended arm. He wasn't looking at me, and I hate being the attendant and not the rightful subject of introduction. "After all, I'm not a pet anymore", was the mantra which won out these days, despite the awkward counter-expectations built up in my mother mind's; to be carried on sweetly unto her end.
A side glance from the man revealed he had not expected my hand. As if pantomiming, he recoiled animatedly, then added insults in his native tongue. I stood up and punched the man square in the face.