Who wants to get married? Anyone? I'm
throwing myself away. I'm in need of a bit of a fix up, and I have
even less to offer financially now, other than my own lack of
self-sufficiency. My liver feels 20 years older than the rest of my
body, and I'm 10 times dumber than what I was before this carnival
week began. But, I'm a lot more open minded towards a rite of passage
that I thought had lost all meaning once a divorce became simpler
than operating a touch screen phone.
Knowing Trevor, I should have set my
expectations for his wedding higher than my bigotry. I knew God
wasn't invited, but I feared superstitious rituals were still a
necessary part of the occasion. And while some were observed, the
formalities of the day turned out to be a perfect expression of these
two unconventional characters and their enviable union.
Starting the ceremony in the late
afternoon gave Trevor most of the day to nervously shit himself to
near dehydration. A hot Hobart sun was adding to this, and to the red
snouts too much booze had left us Bucks party participants with. The
garden setting by the pool was shadowed by the iconic Cascade brewery
building as it peered through the trees while Mt. Wellington bore
witness from the heights beyond. Dashing, dapper and dressed to
impress, Trevor and his 3 grooms looked worth marrying in a
complimentary contrast of sharp black suits and Chuck Taylor hi-top
boots. As for the bride, if she doesn't look good on the day, it
would be safe to say that her heart can't really be in it. Abbie
looked so stunning, she left no doubt there is no other place she
wants to be than by Trevor's side.
I didn't pick Trevor as a blubbery sort
of bloke, but not even the heat could stop his tears from flowing
freely as his breaking voice repeated his vows. Normally going to
water whenever I see someone else turn on the taps, I was surprised I
maintained my composure better than some others around me. Rings were
exchanged, kisses were shared, a piece of paper was signed and
everything was deemed legitimate to the various exclamations of
pride, blessing and admiration of all present.
While the bridal party struck various
poses for immortality and posterity, the rest of us struck an all too
familiar pose with beer in hand. Possibly not the best way to counter
all the profuse sweating we had suffered in suits and ties on a
sunny, Summers day. Trevor's father Hans ripped his tie off with such
speed I thought a ritualistic burning was going to follow just as
quickly. I considered doing likewise but thought the effort involved
in getting it on in the first place warranted more time in its
stranglehold.
Allocated seating and a large meal was
deemed to be at odds with the Bacchanalian revelry expected at the
reception. Finger food and free beer (for those not footing the final
bill) was offered in the brewery's museum instead. Unfortunately, the
first turkey to carry out a platter believed that vegetarians would
be forced to make do with the tomato relish, asparagus and biscuit
combo offered in this first round. Stuffing in so many that my piss
will smell funny for a month, my delight in seeing further platters
cater kindly to my sort was tempered by my inability to fit anything
else in other than beer.
Next came the part I dread most at any
gathering of celebratory significance; the speeches. Aside from
fearing I may be implicated or incriminated in any way, I often feel
anxious for the people expected to speak publicly when its the last
thing most people like to do. Thankfully, the tales told by the
brides father, the bridesmaid and the best man never ventured into
territory untravelled by all except a select few. The highlight of my
evening came when it was Trevor's turn to speak. 'Speak' is actually
a misnomer because the tears came before any words did. My rock
steady composure wavered when Trevor stepped away from the mike to
throw out a few fresh air kicks and the odd shimmy in an effort to
say something without sounding like his balls were dropping. A close
friends daughter stood up from her front row seat on the floor and
gave him a hug of support that drew my first tears and a collective
sigh of adoration from the crowd. Thanking his sister for her love
and support and recalling Hans' first declaration of pride reduced me
to quiet sobs as I was reminded of the love and respect I hold for my
own family members.
After working through his four
'post-it's worth of notes in triple the time it would have taken when
he rehearsed it, Trevor's speech was done and all gathered were every
bit as emotional as he was. The only solution was to crank up the
tunes and get everyone groovin'. The claustrophobia of my clothes
further hampered my ability to move rhythmically with any
co-ordination so I sought sanctuary in the gardens now bathed in the
light of a full moon.
From there I was still able to enjoy a
few of Trevor's friends put the band out of work with their own
musical homage's. I missed the bouquet being tossed and felt my
present interest in all things matrimonial would have seen me pull an
'Up there Cazaly' on some unsuspecting hopeful. Thank-you's and
good-byes were made by the newly weds and they headed off to enjoy
the consummation they had been allowed to practice in the sound proof
rooms of the house we shared. The crowds dwindled away, all probably
seeking ways to end their night in a similar manner.
With hardly any more experience with
weddings than Bucks party's, I thought the entire event had gone off
without a hitch. At least, a hitch that was of any concern to someone
not intimately involved with the planning or unfolding of
proceedings. If the flawlessness of the day is any indication of what
lays ahead for these two, their love will always be the envy of
everyone lucky enough to share that special day with them.
