Up until Columbus Day weekend I’d managed to make it through life without attending any weddings. I don’t have anything against weddings, it’s just that nobody’s ever invited me to one. My cousin Andrea broke my streak by inviting me to her wedding. Now I know that while some people aren’t marriage material, I’m not even wedding guest material.
    I awoke the morning of the ceremony feeling less than vibrant, because the previous night was dedicated to celebrating my birthday. Sharing my incapacitating hangover that day was my friend Steve, who had attended my party. I asked Steve, who was groggily extricating himself from the couch, if he wanted to go to a wedding. I knew this was a bad idea almost as soon as he agreed to go, but I was being selfish. Steve can always be counted on to get rowdy at a party, and worrying that he might distribute unfinished wine bottles to people on the dance floor (he did) or hit on one of my cousins (he did) would help take my mind off of a wedding-and-birthday-precipitated awareness my own loneliness and mortality.
    The ceremony itself was blessedly short. But by the time everyone was shuffling out of the church, I wanted to climb onto the balcony and stuff the organist into one of the pipes. I’ve now confirmed that the duration of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” is the maximum amount of time that anyone should be subjected to organ music. “This is like being jabbed in the brain with a rusty ice pick” observed Steve.
    I wasn’t sure what to expect at the reception. My idea of wedding receptions was informed by TV, movies and popular myth, and so I thought that there would probably be some type of wacky hijinks involving lost film (see: Chandler and Monica’s wedding on Friends), followed by somebody falling in the cake (see: Guns ’N’ Roses, “November Rain” video) and people arrhythmically fumbling their way through the Electric Slide (see: The Biggest Wedding Stereotype I Can Think Of). None of that happened, but then again no former lover busted into the church and demanded that the wedding be stopped at the last minute, either. Such an unconventional ceremony.
    At this point I’d like to make a digression. If  Vince McMahon is reading this, the wedding gave me a surefire idea to rekindle interest in professional wrestling. I call it “WWE UnBridled.” Muscle-bound women in wedding dresses putting each other in sleeper holds—I would watch this.
    There were only a couple of uncomfortable moments at the reception. My brother and I were originally seated at a table with a spiky-haired, corduroy suit­wearing Johnny Depp ringer who looked like he got lost on his way to the GQ party. We moved to an adjacent table because it had an extra space for the invitationless Steve. Later, my brother commented, “I’m glad we didn’t have to sit with Edward Scissorhands,” just as Scissors himself walked past. From the dirty look he shot us, he definitely heard.
    Two other awkward moments were Steve-related. In that party twilight when the bar has closed but the dance floor is still packed, Steve bribed one of the waitresses to let him into the cooler in the kitchen. He returned with three 12-packs and began wandering around the dance floor, handing out beer to the still-thirsty crowd. The groom spotted this, grabbed the beer out of Steve’s hands and returned it to the kitchen. I assume he thought that Steve stole the beer, but let the record show that when you spend $80 tipping at an open bar, as Steve did, the wait staff is unusually accommodating to your requests.
    Soon after that, a bridesmaid was trying to convince us to adjourn to the bar. I had the feeling that this party had reached its apex, so I declined. She then asked, “Are you guys together?” I suppose that’s a fair enough question when you bring a guy to a wedding, but Steve answered it by grabbing her face and laying a long kiss on her lips. When she came up for air, she stammered “Oh... oh my” while I cursed myself for not bringing a camera to this event.
    At the end of the night, Andrea concluded “I may be biased, but I think this was a fun wedding.” I agree, but I have a few ideas on how to improve upon it if I ever get married. I’m going to have to find a girl with some money, though, because getting Guns ’N’ Roses to play at my wedding won’t be cheap. *