Weddings these days, they’re all the same.
Sure, they differ based on where they’re happening (Church, Hotel, Temple, Country Club, Beachfront Property, Green Lush Hills, Las Vegas Chapel), but the events are pretty much carbon-copy. There’s the Priest or Rabbi or Local Official asking the two people about to be married to say nice things about each other, a few speeches from friends and family, some candle lighting, some songs, the speech by the officiating individual about how much he knows the two people and how good they are for each other, the rings, the kiss, the walk down the aisle. The snacks and drinks, the introduction of the wedding party, the first dance, the thank you’s, the meal, the cake, the goodbyes.
Seriously, I have been to so many weddings over the past few years that the common elements between all of them run together. That is, except for one wedding I went to a few years back.
It was the wedding of my good college friend and his Phillipino bride. The wedding itself was going along smoothly, adhering to all the typical elements you’d expect from a wedding. The meal was just about to be served and the bride and groom were ushered up to the front of the room. They stood, together, as family members said nice things about them.
And then, it was time for the traditional “good luck in life” moment.
This was, of course, a moment that whisks by quickly in most wedding days, but today it was different. The bride’s parents emerged, embracing their daughter and new son-in-law, and talked about how it was important to guarantee their happy future. In an attempt to do so, they would now present their “good luck ceremony.”
Right out of a Quentin Tarantino movie, four short Phillipino men emerged wielding long sticks. They whipped them back and forth in front of their faces and a fifth man brought out a cage — filled with one dove. The father of the bride explained that the dove was to land on the shoulder of either the bride and the groom — once it did, the good luck would be guaranteed forever.
And with that the dove was let loose. Noticing the men wielding the long stiff sticks, the dove did what any smart dove would do — it promptly flew into the rafters and nowhere near the bride and groom.
Things were tense. Was this couple not to be guaranteed good luck?
The four men with the sticks looked angry. They started swinging their sticks at the dove, trying to urge it to land on the shoulders of our loving trio. They whacked the sticks on the rafters, swinging and slamming them, causing the nervous dove to flee from beam to beam. They chased the peaceful creature. Trying to hit it, trying to coax it closer to it’s pre-determined destination.
The dove wasn’t having it. It flew to the edge of the room and into the air-conditioning duct.
The men with the sticks banged their sticks loudly against the metal grating. Loud noises reverberating throughout the room. Guests at the tables looked at each other, sharing glances that spoke louder than the words everyone was thinking — What are we having for dinner? Did I ask for the chicken or the dove?
The dove never was caught. And thus, it never landed on anyone’s shoulders. Good luck, well, wasn’t available for the new couple that day. But what was available, was the funniest, most random wedding scene I have ever seen to this day. Men with sticks trying to attack the bird of peace.
Beats dancing to the Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.” anyday.
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