Sticky Pews, Unseen Clues, and Matt-Trimony

Next Thursday March 22nd I depart from Dayton Intl. Airport to fly into Reagan Intl. Airport. Now flying is not something I like to do at all, so what is so important that I will get on a jet and fly? My nephew is getting married that weekend. Well, that and through the generosity of one of my brothers I have a free ticket. And then there’s the whole reception thing with free food and alcohol, as well as the chance to spend some time in the nation’s capital cavorting and carousing with the guys. Okay maybe my nephew’s nuptials are secondary, but they’re a “strong” secondary…no, really.

Anyway, I began to think about the time that I got married. For many reasons it didn’t work out, but the worse thing is that we failed to see the omens that screamed, “Don’t Do It!!”

First of all, the priest that we liked and was going to marry us, was transferred a week before the wedding. It left us to work things out with a complete stranger. Okay maybe this isn’t a major thing but it is the beginning of a trend.

A week later, the night before the big day, we had rehearsal. One of the bridesmaids was walking across the street to the church and was hit by a car. That’s right, wham bam thank ya ma’am. St. Raphael was throwing us a sign because she was lying there on the sidewalk in front of his church with a grimace on her face and a bruised hip.

The following day was wedding day. The air was thick, humid, and hot. When I walked out the door in the morning I could only describe the feeling as having my face buried firmly in Orson Welles’ armpit while languishing in the wet stench of a Louisiana bayou. The funny thing was that we moved the wedding up from August to May to avoid the heat. God had other plans.

During the ceremony a sitcom moment developed. My lovely bride realized that she had left my ring in the basement of the church and it was locked because people had left purses, make-up, clothing, etc. down there. Her brother made like a cat burglar and found a way into the basement, retrieving the ring just in time for the exchange. He’s a good guy, but to this day I have never forgiven him for that.

As we proceeded out of the church, another sign of the Apocalypse occurred. Due to the heat, the varnish from the ancient church pews had stuck to the back of everyone’s finest frockery, leaving them stained…It was Satan’s Stain…a portend of matrimony gone seriously wrong. Our wedding was the last one in that church prior to the installation of air conditioning. Coincidence? I don’t fricking think so.

During the reception everyone was drinking, dancing, and having a great time, when all of a sudden a titanic thunderstorm developed cutting off power for a good thirty minutes. God had spoken and yet we failed to listen. The Almighty also felt compelled to warn us during our honeymoon.

The second night of our honeymoon was interrupted by a tornado in the area. We spent an hour or two in the basement of the hotel and the bar was closed!! The damn bar was closed. Divine Intervention? Damn straight. Unfortunately we didn’t see the signs until it was too late. Much too late.

I didn’t have much success other than helping to produce one heckuva kid, but I congratulate those of you who have managed to persevere in this particular institution. I also hope that my nephew has a long happy marriage, and I’ll be thinking about that the whole flight because marriage is much like flying in an airplane. You never know if you’ll make a safe landing or explode into a giant fireball in transit.

I’ll see you all tomorrow. Cheers!!