So, the wedding was actually kinda fun–maybe not for those who’d been through weddings a billion times before, but for me, it was almost novel. I suppose that’s partially ’cause I’m a homo (we haven’t gotten the wedding thing down just yet) and partially because I come from a family with serious population-decline issues. I mean, as a kid, I went to funerals several times a year, but never weddings.
On the “pro” side, I got to see my dad and brothers for an extended period of time, which is pretty rare these days. I also got to see my mom, whom I haven’t seen since she emerged from rehab back in April. (She’s doing well, apparently, though she’s aged some.) I had the opportunity to chat a good bit with an aunt I haven’t seen since I hit puberty. The bridesmaids dresses were a nice coffee color, and their bouquets included orange and magenta, which gave off this high-80s, Denny’s Restaurant feel–in a good way. And the cut of the tuxes was moderately flattering.
On the “con” side, the wedding was Baptist. Like, really Baptist. Southern Baptist. As in, both the wedding and the reception were held at First Baptist Church. The service was God this and Jesus that and subservience to your husband and blah, blah, blah. There was no alcohol in sight, which even my father mentioned–and he’s a teetotaller if ever there was one. (Although, as host of the previous night’s equally hooch-free rehearsal dinner, dad had no room to complain.) There was a wee bit of piano music, but nothing serious, and forget about the chicken dance. Oh, and to top everything off, I got cornered by another aunt whom I hadn’t seen since before puberty who wanted a complete update on the status of New Orleans, but all I could think about was “Damn, auntie, I want the number of your plastic surgeon!”
Anyway, for the handful of you who were actually curious about all that, here’s a couple of photos:
That’s me, my dad, and my three brothers. I asked someone to use my camera for this shot, and in each pic, someone different was blinking. You already know what I look like, so I figured I’d take the hit.
Bride, groom, bridesmaids, and groomsmen. (My #2 brother and I aren’t in the pic because we were mere ushers.) I thought it was kinda cool and unusual
and sweet that my brother tapped both my dad and my #4 brother to serve as Best Man–um, Best Men. But then, I’m an old softie.
The happy couple, departing the reception after we’d tried unsuccessfully to pelt them with rose petals. It was pretty, though.
Two interesting things. First, that’s not the groom’s SUV–he owns a truck, and a nice one at that, but the bride preferred leaving in something slightly more conventional…. And second, the couple elected to go to Key West for their honeymoon. They were there
for all of 24 hours before they were forced to evacuate in the face of Wilma. Considering they both got hit hard from Katrina, it all seems slightly inauspicious. But then, my powers of clairvoyance aren’t what they used to be.
The mister and misses–by far, the thinnest people in the whole place.
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