Creampuff Gets Her Wings - Part the Ninth

In which Creampuff's friend actually says "I do". I think.

I was skeptical when Jecr told us that she and Roch would be married at Belfast City Hall. This is because I grew up in Edmonton. We have a new city hall in Edmonton now, but the city hall of my youth was, let’s face it, ugly. If memory serves, Edmonton's old city hall looked like the '70's had taken a shit downtown and then someone nailed doors on it. Thus, to my hick mind, a "city hall" wedding was something to be avoided and I thought it odd that Jecr would have chosen such a place for her nuptials. What I realized, as we hopped out of that almost-not-paid for cab and beetled into the building minutes before the wedding was to begin, is that BELFAST City Hall - is HOT. I mean, just look at it. It’s like a frikkin’ palace. Of COURSE non-denominational history buffs Jecr and Roch would want to be married here! It was a GORGEOUS building.

We entered the palace of municipal affairs and I nearly tripped over my dress, then bashed into Caho as I stared up at the marble columns, the plush red carpets and the shiny brass items that twinkled in the entry way. My clumsiness wasn't the only thing that attracted attention as we made our way through the main lobby. School children on a class trip gazed at our shiny dresses and flapping wings with open mouths and even the desk clerk got in on the action.

“Where are YOU from?” he called out to us as we passed by.

“Canada!”, we replied.

He gestured to our wings.  “Yeh couldn’t jest take a plane?”   

By this time, the rest of the folks had caught up to us and Jeba, much to my relief, handed me the ring I was supposed to be in charge of. Having nowhere to put it, and deciding that no one wanted to see me root around in my cleavage to retrieve it at the crucial moment, (that kind of shenanigan could wait until the reception) I decided to wear Roch's wedding ring. It promptly got stuck on my thumb, which was swollen to twice its usual size in all the excitement. I subtly worried at the ring as we entered the Justice of the Peace's ready room to receive our intructions.

The JP was a spritely, bearded fellow whose twinkling eyes and gentle manner would have put anyone at ease. He greeted the party warmly and outlined each person's part in the ceremony, telling us when we would enter, where we would all stand, who would do what when, the exchange of rings, the signing of the register and so on. Unfortunately, he told us all of this in a melodic voice so low and thickly accented that I couldn’t understand a single thing he was saying. The only part I really caught was that both the stereo playing the processional and the door to the chamber worked with a remote control (fancy!), so when the JP hit the remote, the door would swing open and that was our cue.  Though I AM a hick, I hate looking like one, so I hoped that everyone else knew what the hell the JP was talking about.

Caho, Roch's gorgeously coiffed sister Kach (the third winged bridesmaid), Jecr, her father and I gathered outside the door to the chamber, forming and reforming our line (we knew that Jecr and her dad, Dacr, should go last, but that was it) and adjusting our wings. Jecr looked radiant. The ring was still stuck on my thumb. Suddenly, the doors swung open as if by magic! Momentarily forgetting that Jecr’s father was there with us, in his “giving away the bride” capacity, I said in a stage whisper: “Let’s fly this bitch!”  “Indeed,” said Jecr's father and motioned that I should go ahead. I managed not to bash into the door and actually made it into the room. Walking in to Prokofiev, I heard Caho stifling a laugh behind me as my wings bobbed gently back and forth, the bells tinkling gaily.

Much of the actual ceremony is a blur. I remember we all made it in without incident. I remember the groom was beaming and the bride was glowing. I remember Caho, Kach and I all shed a subtle tear or two. I remember I stepped on the mother of the bride's foot. I remember that I managed to pop Roch's ring off my thumb just before it was time for Jecr to give it to him. I remember that when the JP asked Roch's best man Anch for Jecr's ring, Anch confidently pulled a box of Kodak film out of his pocket and looked at it in terror. Before anyone’s pants could fill completely with craps of fear, he reached quickly into the OTHER pocket and pulled out the ring. Smooth.

Then it was time to sign the register. As chief bridesmaid, I got to be a witness. When it was my turn to sign my name, the JP handed me a fountain pen, which is NOT THE SAME AS A REGULAR PEN.  There is a trick to a fountain pen. I do not know the trick.  I started to sign the book and the ink just wouldn’t come.  I shook it gently. I tried holding it at a different angle. Nothing. I looked at the nib, like that’s going to help. EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT ME. Of course, this is completely untrue – most people were looking at the happy, glowing couple – but all the same, a deep blush formed on my chest, neck and cheeks before I gave up being a delicate flower and basically gouged my name into the register, transferring the impression of my signature several pages deep.  If people who got married in the weeks after Jecr were to rub a pencil lightly over their marriage license, there my name would be. Roro.  The third, ghost-like fountain-pen-tard witness to their love.

And then Jecr and Roch were married! There was kissing! There were bubbles, because confetti was not allowed! There was classical music to exit to and pictures taken in the Belfast City Hall! At my urging, Jeba managed to snap a photo of Jecr's new sister-in-law, Kach, before she whipped off her bridesmaid wings and refused to put them back on. She was a very sweet girl, but the young lady had had her hair done professionally.  She was waaaay to cool for long term wings. As for me - I wasn't sure I'd ever take mine off.

Comments

[HB]

Great stuff, and as usual your stories make me laugh:-) But this time there was a litte snippet that was kind of sad:

"If people who got married in the weeks after Jecr were to rub a pencil lightly over their marriage license, there my name would be. Roro. The third, ghost-like fountain-pen-tard witness to their love."

Well, sad is the wrong word, I think. Moving, is better perhaps. Bittersweet? The best Norwegian word is "vemodig", and I'm not happy with any of the English translations for that word ("sad, melancholy, mournful"). Anyway. Whatever it is, it's beautifully written! Those lines made a vivid image in my head. It reminded me of Sarah Waters' writing style.

[roro]

HB - you make me swoon with your compliments! I love that the fountain pen passage struck you as vemodig. You have made my day.

You've also reminded me that I still have to buy The Night Watch. Have you read it yet? Or has work on your thesis barred you from all "reading for pleasure"?

[Chezza]

Wow. Just...wow. I concur with your first admirer. The lyrical wit and charm in the words "fountain pen-tard" has floored me and I can accomplish nothing further for the rest of today. (Looking loooooongingly out the window at the sunshine dappling the giant poster in Times Square of P. Diddy...)

Joet here on the 20th floor has expressed admiration for your description of E-town's city hall.

[Heather]

You're an excellent writer, I enjoyed the series and am glad the snickers incident didn't end badly.

[roro]

Chezza - I knew you would understand about the pen. I hope P. Diddy got you through the afternoon. And I also hope Joet never actually saw the E-town city hall - we may have to start a support group.

And Heather, thanks!! I hope the series had inspired some more kicky ideas for your own wedding. Perhaps wings on the dogs? They'd look sweet . . .

[HB]

I've read The Night Watch, and I liked it very much. I just haven't blogged about it, but I will, in June!

[frcr]

Speech! Speeeeech!!