Sunday, November 21, 2010

Get The Wed Out: Part One

Recently I attended a wedding. I consider it to have been quite significant for more reasons than the fact that it was my first in several years and only the second I've been involved in since I became old enough to form permanent memories. This was not the first wedding of people I've known out in LA, but it was the first I attended, and it involved a bride and groom who I count as two of my very best friends. Lastly, as both bride and groom are and have been prominent members of the improv comedy community which has been such a large part of my life, I was keenly aware of how much meaning there was in the thing for all the smart and funny people who comprise said community.  For all those reasons, of course I had to write about the thing.

I had been aware of the wedding being in the offing for months and months, and yet isn't it always the way that it sneaks up on you at the last second anyway? It was especially to be credited for its stealth in my case, as I was living with the groom in the two months preceding. There I was attempting to furnish a sympathetic ear as a thousand pernicious details had to be dealt with, none of which seemed to get ironed out with great ease. I had always been a big fan of the Steve Martin version of 'Father Of The Bride' (and lament having never seen the original), and while I'm not prepared to say that no weddings unfold like that, I can say that this one didn't really. That's not to say it wasn't wonderful and notable, or I wouldn't have written a word about it. Let me start from the beginning, or at least from my beginning.

I had only ever known the bride and groom as a couple, meeting first the former in improv classes (she being the teacher) and seeing also the latter performing in shows. I had for a while been aware of early planning in the areas of time and place for the ceremony. With the event being so far down the road, it was largely academic from my perspective. We might as well have been discussing the plans for my own wedding, and if I've never said so, I'm chronically single. It gradually became more real and serious, as does the situation faced by a lobster in a pot of water. I became entangled in the thing when I moved in with the groom to what would be the couple's first home together. I had suddenly needed a place, and they needed a seat warmer of sorts before the bride could move in.

From that vantage point, I was witness to some of the little headaches that were so comical in the aforementioned film. Seeing the humor in them was a challenge. Gradually, problems were solved and the day drew nearer. Invitations went out, and my services as an usher were requested. It began to dawn on me that I would have to get some things of my own done, rather than just watching from afar like it was a tv show. Just what would I wear when the day came? I'm not habitually a suit-wearer, but figured this would be a sartorial scenario not handled well by my standard irreverent t-shirt and ripped-up jeans. I own one suit, and thanked my lucky stars that I had acquired it and gotten in the habit of wearing it. I suppose the anxiety was largely imagined, but I felt concerns nonetheless of whether it would be adequate. It proved to be. Tomorrow, I'll get into the late stages of planning!

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