PNW Day 8: It's My Special Day, Damnit

There's an article in some wedding industry magazine about how service providers can spot an "alternabride". This is an important ID to make, because alternabrides don't spend nearly as much money as their fairytale-struck sisters. The alternabride is "more interested in the success of the marriage than the success of the wedding." How dare she! Doesn't she realize she has an entire market segment to support?

vic and knox threw a wedding ceremony as "alterna" as it gets. When your union is not technically legal in your state of residence, some boundaries are going to be crossed. That's all for the better; it was one of the most heartfelt weddings I've witnessed. When there is no marriage tradition in your identity group, when when there is barely a legal framework for it, when constitutional amendments are proposed to stop it; this marriage was intentional, determinate, and hard-fought. The grooms choked up, the audience teared, and I'd like to think that everyone left with a new understanding of the institution.

While signing the kattubah, welcoming host nerdseyeview plucked out a Death Cab for Cutie song on her ukulele. It's a touching love tune which contains a rejection of the restrictions of Catholicism at its center. I wonder how intentional the choice was. Note the umbrella: We were misted by a bit of rain during the ceremony. The hardened locals either raised umbrellas or didn't seem to notice. Perhaps prolonged exposure to Seattle turns you into an amphibian or slug. I'll check folks for slime trails next time.

vic spent much of the week practicing his "vogue", going so far as to find the appropriate videos and reverse-engineer some of the choreography. (Knowing that this was coming, I tried much the same thing and gave up quickly.) I'm sure that "i do" was vic's high point, but vogueing on his wedding day has to have been a close second place. It's a bit strange to be dancing when it's light out. I want the cover of darkness to hide my insecurities. And maybe a smoke machine. And a burqa.

Mazel tov, boys!