My most memorable wedding experience (other than my own) included the following epic ingredients: a beautiful lakeside terrace battered by gale force winds; the groom’s hippy friends smoking pre-nuptial weed in the corner; a cultural disconnect between the bride’s estranged East Indian and Jewish family members; and strafing helicopters.
The Jewish grandmother kicked things off with a rendition of “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof. She was accompanied by an East Indian teenager on electric guitar. But with the wind absolutely ripping off the lake they could not actually hear one another. So she sang mournfully while he played unrelated minor chords, completely out of time with her. They finished the song about 20 seconds apart.
The Jewish family members nodded in cultural solidarity. The East Indian contingent was respectful, but wary. The hippies gazed into space, fully baked and lost in the deep meaning of the song.
Then came the wedding vows. The bride first shared some thoughtful verses, barely audible above the wind. Then the groom produced a piece of paper and read the following:
“Wherever I am, there’s always Pooh,
There’s always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
“Where are you going today?” says Pooh:
“Well, that’s very odd ‘cos I was too.
Let’s go together,” says Pooh, says he.
“Let’s go together,” says Pooh.”
The Jewish contingent sat in shocked disbelief. The baffled East Indians mouthed the words “Pooh?” to one another in a futile attempt to understand what was being said. Several hippies wept, moved by the timeless wisdom of Winnie the Pooh and by the effect of narcotics.
Several helicopters from the nearby festival grounds then began to buzz the terrace like a scene from Apocalypse Now. Chairs were scattered. The wedding officiant had to yell above the roar as they passed overhead. The men holding the corner poles of the Jewish wedding canopy hung on for dear life. Finally, the rings were exchanged and love won the day.
It was later discovered that the young ring bearer had head lice, which he passed on to the entire wedding party.
This story is dedicated to Glen and Mark, whom we met last week at a lovely family wedding.
[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]