Marry Me A Lot
RevClint makes his way through a squeaky set of gates as the processional starts in. Ryan's father and grandmother are first down the aisle, followed by the dawn of a new ice age it takes so long. In fairness, the aisle is sixty miles long. Chris attends Ryan's other grandmother. Wait. Are they showing this ceremony is real time? Wow. That will allow me to recap it in real time! Trista's grandmother and uncle walk down the aisle. Trista's maternal grandparents walk down the aisle. People, this is television! I wonder what's going on over on the other ch...ah! Fleiss has put a shock mechanism on my television remote. I can't change the channel. No wonder the ratings were so high. I love how Ryan is interviewed by Charlie every time they cut into the Groomal Suite, but suddenly Trista is suddenly all tweaked out and camera shy. Trista's dad and FakeMom process. Trista's mom walks down the aisle next, with which one of Trista's other close relatives befitting the escorting of the mother of the bride down the aisle? "Trista's mother, Rosanne Rehn, now being escorted to her seat by Trista's lifelong friend, Andy Goldenberg." ANDY GOLDENBERG? The mother of the bride, people, and she walked in hours after the stepmother of the bride. And she got totally Goldenberged. I can't believe they Goldenberged the birth mom. Fuck all.
Ryan enters, escorted by his parents, to the strains (and I mean "straaaaaaaains") of Pachelbel's Canon In D. Contractually obligated to do so, everyone mentions the helicopters all faux-surprised. Don't play this song at my wedding. Don't play this song at my funeral. Don't play this song ever. ["But Blues Traveler's 'Hook' is okay, right?" -- Wing Chun]
Ryan makes it to the end of the aisle, turning and facing back down it like people at weddings do. The bridesmaids enter, a symphony of pink. I still dig me some Cindy. Tiny flower girls in adorable pink dresses! The ring bearer in a tiny fire engine! That poor little boy. Scarred and mocked forever. My brother played a glockenspiel solo in the third-grade orchestra concert and we still make fun of him constantly, mercilessly, fifteen years later. This is going to be murder. (A glockenspiel is kind of like a xylophone. By the way.)
The music changes abruptly to "Here Comes the Bride." And, well, here comes the bride. And the moment might be considered by some shocking or beautiful, but those people were all there at the event or those who designed that which is shocking and beautiful, but we're been living inside the craw of the planners for the past three weeks, draining any possible dramatic impact entirely away from this moment. Other than that, it's grand, baby. Trista makes her way down the steps and down the aisle, her step ginger and her hair, well, Gilligan's Island's Ginger. It's a little buoyant, wouldn't you say? She processes with her father down the aisle, the helicopters adding nothing but, as my grandmother would say if I had married Ryan, "a whole lot of ruckus."