Post Nuptial Zombie Dance

Welcome, dear friends and readers, to part two of my two part series: Blogging Around a Wedding (2014 edition).

In our previous episode, we discussed all the excitement that goes into trying to pull off a wedding day without a hitch [wait, someone is now handing me a note — yes, that is actually technically a really bad way of putting that. Back to your regularly scheduled programming]. I thought I was tired yesterday when I wrote that.

Oh, how young and foolhardy I was back in yon yesterday. Oh, how naïve and optimistic that young man was.

Now I am older, wiser. Now I know better: it’s always worse the day of.

Wait, do not take that wrong. I don’t mean ‘worse’ to say the actual wedding, because that was great. Once the train left the station, it rolled along quite smoothly, taking Stephen and Carmen on the express line to marital bliss. (Perhaps we should have warned them that the track is occasionally bumpy, and it can be difficult to tell when you have actually arrived at that station. Oops?)

Even though I had practically no responsibility in this affair other than just showing up and wearing the right clothes (a more difficult prospect than it sounds, because for some reason all the tuxedoes look alike), I felt like I had the weight of the world hanging on my shoulders.

Makes me think with some sympathy toward the people who had to run the thing.

I confess I had my moments of doubt, when I figured there was no way that we could stick to the schedule as laid out beforehand. When I thought that my head my implode from sinus pressure buildup due to pictures outside. When it seemed my mother might kill her newly wed son to get out of dancing with him for thirty seconds. When one of the guests was nearly lit on fire. (Okay, that last one might have been a slight exaggeration, but there were flames, there was smoke, and someone did get burned. It seems like a fair extrapolation of that line of causality.)

It has been about three and a half years since my wedding, the most recent wedding in which I played a front runner, so I was feeling a little out of practice. Lucky for me, the part of groomsman is played primarily by doing what people tell you to do. Following instructions? Hey, I’m pretty great at that. Hearing instructions? Another story entirely. I don’t know what it is about the acoustics of that place, but I could hardly understand a word anyone said to me. Even outside, where a decent majority of photographs were captured, the wind ensured difficulty in issuance of instructions.

(Hopefully soon I will be able to prove to you that we did for the most part succeed in capturing some decent photos at the wedding. If they look half as fun as it seemed they must, then Stephen and Carmen will have a great wedding album to share with people and with which to embarrass future children. (“Oh man, mom and dad, I can’t believe you made them wear tuxes! Didn’t you know that leather trench coats and neon Mohawks were all the rage? Pssh, old people.”))

(((In all seriousness, though, why do science fiction films so often portray future fashion as so outlandish? I can buy the idea that some people will dress weird in the future, but some people dress weird now. I think that those costume designers fail to appreciate the fact that most people, when given the option, will probably tend to dress in an overall conservative way.)))

I also got a chance to see some friends who have been just distant enough that I have been bad about staying in close contact. Something about weddings (and funerals, now that I think about it) seems to help remind us of the friends we have and the friends we miss. Life lesson ahoy?

So, basically, all tangents aside, it was a pretty good wedding. No serious injuries, no arson investigation, no strangled in laws (or strangling in laws).

I have, however, tried to make it expressly clear that my other two siblings need to get on with the marriage thing. I’d like to put those behind me and look forward to at least a couple decades of peace, up until any children I have will no doubt make me break out my dusty old suit jacket.

And now… bed time.

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