THE SINGLE GREATEST WEDDING THAT EVER WAS OR SHALL BE

Alright. It's been a while. Sorry to everyone who has been waiting. All two of you can rest easy now that there is more meaningless inteligence-sucking drivel to read from me.
This post is about two friends of mine. One with whom I worked and her (now) husband. This is the tale of their wedding day. If by some slim chance this post meets their eyes, I want them to know it is out of love and respect for you both. And also out of the laughter I withheld during your blessed ceremony.
To protect the innocent we will not name names. They shall be referred to simply as Jack and Jill. Note also that some things will be slightly blown out of proportion for comedy........but not much.

ACT I: THE PROGRAM AND THE FORESHADOW

As a friend of Jill's, of course I was going to attend her wedding. I knew Jack a bit too. Nice guy. Off beat. but, of course, so was Jill. I attended with another co-worker and her boyfriend, and my girlfriend at the time (as my marriage to another woman may suggest, we are no longer seeing one another).
We sit. We mingle. We watch the pre-festivical (that's a new word) slide-show. It's the same slide show that alot of couples these days feature. It offers a rare peek into the entire life span of the betrothed. Polaroids of todlers and awkward pre-teens go whizing by the screen as you listen to "their" music. It's always cute, it's always effective, and makes for good fodder. The notable difference in this slide show from others I've seen is that it featured the most horrible and irritating punk/metal/rap/hard-core/ear-bursting/suicide-inducing/call-the-cops-on-your-party/no-seriously-make-it-stop music ever. And also a couple of tracks from the "Carpenters." Great mixing of styles.
The close of the slide show ended with some very loud angryish sounding song with the screaming refrain of: "DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE!!!!!!" And then in the midst of the collective concious rubble the crowd shared, the delicate tones of the piano began.
We take a minuet. We start mingling again. We listen to the softer, live pre-show music. We wait. We recuperate.
I open the program. I'm looking at names, and song titles and musicians, and then I read the title of the "piece" set aside for the entrance of the bride. Tribal Drums? I internally inquired. Yes, it said Tribal Drums. I mean as in a title not a componant. Just then the pastor spoke. "Rise." The musicians put down there guitars and stepped away from the keyboard and approached the assorted hand drum display. I thought they were just for looks..........I was wrong.

ACT II: ENTRANCE OF THE CHIEFTAN'S DAUGHTER

Now, most girls have an image in there mind about when they enter their own wedding ceremony. That gentle, sweet, once in a lifetime moment that can't be described or forgotten. Some picture a grand archaic looking sanctuary. Others have in mind a small, quaint chapel. Some might picture themselves in an unorthodox setting like the beach or a spontaneous, "shot-gun" feel like a justice of the peace. Still others invision rocketing into marriage with spunk and a wild, care free spirit like in Vegas with Father Presley officiating. They're all different, and whether they admit it or not, every girl has known exactly what it was supposed to be like from the time they wore patened leather on their feet.
As the drum beats began it was apparent that Jill imagined a bonfire and the smell of buffaloe blood as the meat from yesterdays kill roasts. While many girls pick up their ideas from, say, "Sleeping Beauty" or "Cinderella." As they watch they invision themselves as the melodramatic royal beauties themselves. Jill obviously watched the wedding scene in "Dances with Wolves" and thought "I am Stands With a Fist."
Understandable. Every girl wants to be a princess waiting for their own "Prince Charming". Jill just wanted to be an Indian Princes waiting for "Brave Walks Very Fancy."
Had this been for a show or concert of somekind the drums would have been very effective, and entertaining, perhaps even exhilerating. But, being that we just watched a girl in a classic white wedding gown march down the church aisle to the percusive tones of dried skins being beaten in honor of the god of war, I chose different adjectives. Here are a few of them: Unerving, Uncomfortable, Inappropriate, Random, and an honerary adjective: Huh??

ACT III: THE VOICE, THE VOLLEY, AND THE VOWS

How do you follow that? I mean the entrance was so far out of the realm of reality or tradition or rational, it was entirely unrelatable. There is no way anybody could connect to this as a moment. I understand they were trying to be original and do there own thing and display who they were as individuals and a couple and other such nonsense. I get it. But if this displayed their personality than it left only one question for me: Who are these people?
Anyway. Advancing the story. In a continuing effort to conceal any identities to talk about the next person I will just use a variation on the former name used and call her Shmill. Shmill was a close friend of the couple. I knew her periferaly. Shmill was also the chosen singer for the asigned "tender moment" of the show.
On the program it listed "Close to You" as the tender moment song. I was more than a little anxious about a Carpenters song, especially THAT Carpenters song being sung. We'd already heard one of their songs during the slide show, which was also ill-placed, but after the rain dance wedding marchI feared the corpse of Caren Carpenter may sue for the frivolous application of her work.
Well, Caren could rest easy. It turned out to be another song with the same title. Even though I'd like to stop and make fun of someone writing a song anytime post 1975 and titleing it "Close to You," the song isn't the story. The story is Shmill.
In Smill's eyes, this was no mere wedding. This was not just a tendor moment for some selfish bride and groom to exploit. This was her time. She was a star and the whole sactuary was going to know when they saw her sing this song that wasn't originally by the Carpenters.
She milked that lousy song for more than it was worth. All the little faciel expressions and the Celine Dionesk hand motions. Girl was feelin' it. She made eye contact with Jack and Jill and with the audience and with the preacher and with the band members and with the sound guy and with the grandparents of both parties. She even made that face that sunday school teachers make when they're explaing stuff to kids. You know the look. That wide eyed, over-excited, exagerated pronunciation thing that they do. Like she was telling a story. A story of love.
Shmill may have been able to pull this off if she also brought it with the singing. But she did not bring it. She left it home. She hasn't ever even taken it out of the box. She borrowed it from a friend that had it, and forgot about it.
Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda. The vows. Jack is basically weeping at this point. There's something just very uncomfortable and awkward about watching a guy who normally dresses very punk and listens to, well, music that refrains in DIE, DIE, DIE to be Captain Wimpersalot at his own wedding. From spiked collar to a minor sob. But what makes it look even worse is that Jill looks mildly bored and maybe even a little embarased by her teary groom. The role reversal on stage probably lent itself to some assumptions on their future.
"Jill do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded Jack as long as you bo....."
"Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"
The first quote would be from the pastor. The second quote would be from the film camera owned by the fat lady who apparently can't count, sitting on the opposite end of the sactuary from me.
Now, I've done stupid things. Everyone has done something stupid. So I'm willing to let it slide. The problem was her next choice.
If this mis-hap had befallen you, what would your course of action be? Probably to bury it under you shirt or maybe sit on it. No matter the method, you would most likely choose some kind of sound stiffling option followed by burying your head because you're officialy "that person." Well, that's not what she did.
She chose to do what you do when you trip in public. You know, you trip. You look stupid. Everyone saw it and you know it so you face everyone and wave your hands in the air for no reason and look like an idiot and say something like: "I'm an idiot." There's no sense in covering it up, so you wollow in it.
That's what she did with this. As everyone turns to look for the source of the noise, as that's currently more entertaining, she puts a goofy smile, raises her camera high into the air, giving it more volume, and waves it around while laughing wildly so as to incite us to join in the jockularity. We didn't.
At this point I'm just waiting for the next thing. I've loosened up quite a bit and I'v decided to just enjoy it for what it is: the best free show/train wreck ever attended or even attempted.
Rather than stopping the ceremony temporarily to let everyone enjoy the embarasment of camera lady, they try to speak over it, which of course, doesn't really work.
Finally, the paster pronounces Jill and Weepy McWeeperton man and wife. This is the part where Jack pulls out his mouth spray to freshen up and to bring some levity to the ceremony. He obviously had not anticipated the level of comedy that was going to be already present. The mouth spray thing looked totally bush league. The kiss, however, did not.
As I was sitting there, I thought to myself, "you know, this weddings got it all. Bad music of both the live and tracked variety. A generaly embarasing lack of direction. A fat lady with a loud camera.In fact the only thing I think it's missing is a little butt pumping." I spoke to soon.
As Jill went in to demolish Jacks face, she grabbed a good percentage of his feeble hind quarters to balence herself. There was tongue, there was passion, and then there was the butt pump. Not just a grab or a squeeze. A pulsated rhythm of continual choking of his cheek like she was trying to work some kind of machine. Really, the entire scene or tableau, if you will, was just endearing. Especially behind the pulpit and in front of the crucifix.
If God actually were into the whole lightning striking you down thing, He would have had at least a baker's dozen chances to show His stuff.

EPILOGUE:

So the two were one. They're married. They have two children. They love each other. They're great folks. They also had the most terrible, wonderful, deliciously frightening wedding ceremony that has ever been or shall be.
And if your wondering; no, the picture at the top is not Jack and Jill believe it or not.