Wedding time! Carrie is bent double as she exits the car, still suffering her sex sprain. She tells Stanford that the official story is that she's sore from trapezing, but it was the best man that done her in. Oh my, what is Carrie wearing? A purple dirndl thing, with her hair in pale blonde braids wrapped around dark brown roots. Very unfortunate-looking. I'm flashing back to Madonna's "Bedtime Stories" era; remember the over-tweezed brows and gold tooth? Remember that pic of her in the Heidi dress with the crook? Carrie looks a little bit better than that. At least she isn't holding a crook.
Here comes the uncomfortable part: Howie the best man approaches Carrie, tells her she "looks HOT," then tells her he's got a hotel room with a huge tub and king-size bed, and they can have breakfast together in the morning if they aren't "doing other things." Yeah. Carrie says, "We'll see." He freezes, and says he knows that "'we'll see' means 'see ya.'" Carrie clumsily explains that she thought that since he was only in town for a week, that last night was just supposed to be...fun? "A one-night sort of thing?" Oh, Carrie, you ignorant slut. Can you never be blunt? Just say the sex sucked and you never want to see him again in order to reduce the chances of having such awful sex again. Jesus. Isn't there a chapter in Our Bodies, Ourselves about communicating with your partner? Bookmark it. Read it later. And never have such unsatisfying sex again, Ms. Sex Columnist. Anyway. Carrie lets the guy down dishonestly and not so gently, and then he gets upset. "If I had known you were just using me, I wouldn't have made LOVE to you like that!" Carrie squinches up her face like, whaaa?
And now, the wedding ceremony. Everyone kvells. I'm kvelling too. As the rabbi goes on about what a gift and responsibility it is to marry someone, Carrie smiles at Char and Harry. Then she locks eyes with Howie, who mouths matter-of-factly, "Fuck you." Ooh! Shocking. At a wedding, during the ceremony, no less.
Harry and Char give each other sips of wine from a chalice. Some spills on Char's beautiful dress, right over her breast, and she bugs out. Harry just smiles.
Harry slips the ring on Char's finger, and Sam yanks at her pearl bracelet (from last night's party) in frustration, breaking it. Millions of tiny pearls go everywhere. Mir, Sam, and Carrie bend over to scoop them all up, a Sisyphean task if ever there were one, and Carrie's face contorts into a grimace. "Ow! Back spasm," she explains. Harry and his groomsmen bend over to pick up pearls, too. Harry's yarmulke falls right off his head with a plop.