Opie turns to Jax and asks, "You got -- you got the rings?" "What?" asks Jax, all wide-eyed, before grinning, and he and Opie crack up. Awww! Then Opie turns to Lyla and she vows to be "a faithful and loving wife and old lady." Opie tenderly promises, "With this ring, I vow my love. I promise always to cherish [pause] and protect you." (Hands up, everyone who suspects Donna was on his mind right here.) Jax prods quietly, "What else?" Opie rolls his eyes, then recites, "And treat you as good as my leather, and ride you as much as my Harley." Everyone in SAMCRO chants this last part along with him. It's quaint. Anyway, Opie and Lyla are now hitched, and the revels commence.
No expense was spared for the reception -- live band, lots of rented tables and catering, party lights strung up and a dance floor put down. Even Unser's having a good time. Jax has slipped away, and he's wrapping up some business with Bobby Elvis, Chibs and Juice. They're in the back of the erstwhile "wedding shit" truck, and Jax tells them, "If you get even a hint of a tail, abort." Chibs assents, and Juice says, "Drink heavily for us." Happy drives the truck away.
Back at the reception, Lyla's sort of dancing by herself on the floor (and showing more life than that stripper at the Jellybean, I may add), and Clay's conferring with Alvarez at a table. In his own inimitable fashion, Clay thanks Alvarez for putting in a good word with his hombres on the inside and thus keeping SAMCRO alive while they did their time. Alvarez smiles and says he's only protecting his interests. Then he adds, "Talked to our man yesterday. How's it look for tomorrow?" Clay gives him the heads-up on the new sheriff, then adds that they'll all be safe "once we're inside." Alvarez is skeptical, but then his lady -- clad in a fetching leather minidress -- comes over and implores him to dance, so off he goes to keep the domestic peace. Clay blows his cigar smoke into the stargazer lilies on each table. With every subsequent detail I notice at this shindig, I become more and more convinced that indeed, SAMCRO should consider the wedding planning racket. There's enough shakedowns in that business to keep them all in clover through retirement, and just about the same level of murderous mayhem -- and it's all nice and legal.
Also, I should add, this wingding is totally in keeping with my family's experience with biker celebrations. I have a cousin who married into a biker family, so the whole MC came to the wedding and reception (it was one of those in-a-friend's-backyard deals) and people are still talking about that party 23 years later. I believe they're still talking about how my sweet Irish Catholic grandmother approached one man who was a walking explosion of hair wrapped in leather and inscribed with all manner of impolite tattoos, then sweetly asked him, "May I see your pig, please?" "Hog, ma'am," was all he said before showing her his ride.