Virgo Gets Married

August 2, 2005

Despite Virgo's wedding being held just two hours north of the city, I didn't feel like making the drive in my suit. I convinced Deborah not to wear her dress either. "We'll just find a place to change when we get there," I said.

The place we found turned out to be a McDonald's a half mile the church. Deborah used the bathroom to put on her dress and touch up her makeup, while I changed, surfer-style, in the parking lot. I used the reflection in the tinted rear window of my Jeep to tie my tie as people stared at me from inside the restaurant. When Deborah finally stepped out in her fancy dress, we hopped in the car and rushed to the church, right on time.

We sat in the rear and waited for the ceremony to begin. I noticed Brian fidgeting on the altar, and pointed him out to Deborah. "That's the groom."

"How <i>old</i> is he?" Deborah asked.

"I dunno. Twenty-seven or so."

"He looks young."

"Wait until you see Virgo," I said.

And a moment later, there she was, poised in the doorway.

"Oh my god. She looks twelve."

Beautiful, looking like a princess in the dress she designed for herself. I struggled with my camera and snapped too late as she passed our pew. "Fuck, I missed it," I whispered. (Yes, it's true, I swore in church.)

I saw the moment in real life, though, and since that's what I was there for, I put my camera away.

Deborah seemed surprised. "Aren't you going to take any more pictures?" she asked.

I looked at all the other cameras and shrugged. "It's okay, it looks like a pretty well-documented event without me."

I hardly knew anyone, aside from the bride and groom, and Deborah didn't even know them, so we mingled awkwardly, smiling and nodding to random strangers, as we waited for a caravan leading to the reception to form.

I didn't have directions to the reception, but it was easy enough to fall in line and follow along with the other cars. When we passed several bright orange and yellow chairs arranged in the corner of an empty gravel parking lot, however, I couldn't resist dropping from the line to take a photo.

"What the hell is that all about?" I wondered.

After that, we were on our own.

The reception was held at a vineyard, which, after our pit stop, turned out to be easy find. Just follow the green road signs with the grapes on them.

The party was in a converted barn, and we were directed upstairs for some more awkward mingling. After a few minutes, Deborah spotted the waitress with the plate of shrimp--there's one at every wedding--and we proceeded to follow her around until the guests of honor arrived.

During the night, Deborah became slightly obsessed with one particular couple. She kept referring to them as "The New Wave duo". The party had quite an assortment of outfits and haircuts, so I couldn't be sure which couple she meant. When I noticed one of Virgo's ex-boyfriends standing near the bar, I pointed him out. "Hey, there's your New wave friend."

The guy was wearing a Nehru suit, and his hair was slicked up, short, and spiky. He was standing with his girlfriend, who had a two-tone Debby Harry hairstyle.

"No," Deborah corrected me. "That's not the new wave duo. Those guys are from the future."

She scanned around the room and found the new wave couple. "That's them, over there," she said.

"Those guys?" I scoffed. "Those guys aren't New Wave. They're rockabilly."

"Ah, you're right," she laughed.

"Well, it's that 80's era rockabilly revival, so I can see why you might've been confused."

After dinner, Deborah kicked off her shoes and suggested we take a stroll around the vineyard. We found a nice spot behind the barn next to a small pond, under the peach trees, and sat there until dusk. That's when the swarms of bugs chased us inside.

"It must be time for cake, anyway," I said as we headed back to the barn.

"Cake! Of course! I almost forgot."

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I hadn't been able to talk to Virgo the entire night. When we finally caught each other, it was impossible to carry on a conversation without being interrupted by this relative or that one. Virgo looked utterly discombobulated. "Has it been this way for you all night?" I asked.

"Oh my god. Yes! It hasn't stopped. I've been talking the entire time. I'm ready to pass out."

We managed to talk a little longer, but when a group of relatives lined up to say good night, I bowed out and let her do her thing.

I found Deborah sitting alone, eating cake. "What do you think?" I asked. "You almost ready to go?"

"It's up to you."

"Yeah, I guess our job is done here."