We attended the wedding of a couple of friends this weekend. It was an outdoor ceremony on a storybook perfect day.
The bride wore a summer dress, the groom, a white shirt and jeans. Per dress code guidelines, lots of guests wore shorts and flip flops.
The soon-to-be-wed couple mingled and attended to details, and when the ceremony was underway, they walked across the lawn together toward the "altar" .
The altar was a puzzling structure. It seemed a little...awkward, and I though it was a tall stack of hay bales covered by a shiny fringed cloth...until it blew over.
Definitely not hay bales, but...what was it?
Why was it even there?
No matter. The structure was re-erected and the bride and groom approached the altar, where the minister was waiting.
The minister began with a traditional opening, but when he got to the word marriage, we all shook out an ear because we'd distinctly heard, "maawidge."
Then the groom interrupted the barely-begun ceremony, and both he and his bride-to-be skedaddled behind that altar-contraption-not-hay-bales-thingee. After a few minutes of assorted undergarments flying into the air, the two reappeared in Princess Bride attire--she as Buttercup, he as the Dread Pirate Roberts.
All of us burst into whoops and clapter (=happy clapping). They didn't have to announce what characters they were--we knew immediately. And with that change of costume came a fully formed sense of surviving obstacles and misdirection and Fire Swamps and Rodents of Unusual Size to get to each other.
To be together.
It struck me how neat it is--and powerful--that fictional characters can have such a strong and bonding impact on our real lives. How something as simple as a costume change can bring with it such a flood of understanding and happiness and romance.
Long live The Princess Bride!
And may our friends live happily ever after.