Happily Ever After

Me standing with my brother at the wedding site

Never have I been caught up in such a large, elaborate, destined for disaster wedding. And never have I seen anything allotted as such turn out to be in its own over the top, elegant, affectionate way successful.  Ingredients for chaos included (but were not limited to): the convergence of two east coast families, 12 bridesmaids, 6 groomsmen, 4 flower girls, 250 guests, open bars, hiking in high heels, 2 days in the mountains and one ski lift carrying all of us up to the fairy tale scene. Sound like a cheesy Rom-Com yet?

I was along for the ride the whole time, feeling like an insider reporter. Watching to see how crazy my family could get and how happy they could get. I’d been to a bachelorette party, menhdi women empowerment night, a massage, a facial, a bridal party, an engagement party…and found myself dropped off at the beginning of the weekend at my aunt’s house for another episode. I love this side of my family unquestioningly, but never cease to be amazed when they run late. No, they redefine late. The bride (my cousin) and the rest of the family (including myself in a car with my other cousin and another bridesmaid) were an hour late to the rehearsal. I suppose grand entrances are more noticeable when they are late. More suspense maybe?
So we burst into the town of Copper Mountain where our story takes place. We scurried up with irritable, hungry bridesmaids (who were on time) to the part of the mountain where the wedding would take place.  More ingredients: a sick ring bearer, a wedding planner insisting the number of bridesmaids requires us to stand in the dirt, a cowboy with a pipe who hasn’t memorized part of what’s needed to marry the couple. When moving in to our condo, we found boxes of party favor counter parts, unassembled. I love what my aunt had to say. When more would come up, she’d insist on having a sense of humor. “Happy times,” another of my aunts said. It was hard to imagine 250 sticky muffins and fraying ribbon as happy times.

But they were, of course. The next morning as bridesmaids clustered to get their hair and make up done, I finished the favors. But I had my Cinderella moment when a makeup appointment was open and I was freed from chores to prepare for the ball. We surrounded my cousin Jenee to fix her make up crisis, we sighed at her beautiful hair, we raced her to the lift before the approaching groom and groomsmen would see. The day was supposed to be cloudy, but miraculously it was clear. The cowboy remembered the lines and make a joke. None of us bridesmaids tripped, and we spitefully stayed on the concrete. My brother and step brother looked like body guards more than ushers, standing with crossed arms and dark sunglasses on each side of the seats. One of the flower girls, a one year old, stopped in the middle of the aisle, suddenly perplexed at the situation. But she, just like the entirety of the wedding, just needed a nudge and a little time to regain her eager step.

Then began the trials of the bridal party. We walked down a hill, our heels sinking into the ground, for forest pictures. We then were left in a room for the first hour of the reception, choreographing a dramatic entrance to the song “Fancy.” However more were eager to practice our second task—a nerf gun war with the groomsmen. The bridesmaids stowed away ammunition in our surprisingly accommodating dresses (except when one fell out during the reception, before other guests knew of our plans). Someone asked an employee while we were waiting in the room “What would we have to do to get us some vodka in here?” A characteristic line of the two days there.

And the reception. Guests danced with the same fervor of a high school social, with an infused belief in true love. My dad accompanied my cousin as she sang Moon River for Jenee and her dad, as warm light and warm-hearted people flowed in and out from the mountain balcony. The champagne and words shared were sweet, a photo booth confirmed our cheesy happiness, and there was no end in sight. I even suckered my brother into a slow dance, which began what would become a long night of dance offs for him. Afraid for my feet and face with his crazy flying elbows and sliding shoes, I passed him off to the middle of the dance floor-- his rightful place.  The best moments were surrounding the bride and groom as they danced and kissed in the middle of us all, immune to the odd perfection around them, thinking only of their perfection in the middle of it all.

A wedding is an interesting cultural phenomenon. Especially big weddings. Yes, plenty rolled their eyes at the detail after detail, person after person added to the list. But people were plucked from every which direction, from their dream lives or average lives, and placed in a setting to experience the same happiness. To mix together lives. Whether everyone was the happy drunk of a weekend off from work or teary eyed from the vows and bright mountain sun, it was a jigsaw completeness. So we got a Rom-Com. My cousin got her fairy tale ending. Everyone else had each other, with the glimmer of stars and champagne and disco lights and togetherness in their eyes.