Despite the barrage of near misses and “oops, we don’t have a…” and “shit, where’s the…”, we pulled it together in time.
I am upstairs, putting on my beautiful red wedding dress with a sheer orange/red/yellow veil. I’m waiting, I’m pacing, I’m rewriting my vows all while putting on my make up and pulling my hair into something presentable. Where’s Andy? My family comes upstairs to greet me and see me before the wedding. Yes, it’s great to see you, and thank you, yes I designed the dress myself, and Anna made it…but what’s going on? Where’s Andy?
There’s movement downstairs and I hear people running up and down the stairs. I throw open the door and catch Doc and Sam on the way down. “What’s going on? Are we starting soon?”
“Your grandfather stabbed Andy!” Sam screams. “Yeah right: Real funny guys. Just let me know when we’re going to get started. I want to get married already!”
Doc and Sam sneak downstairs and leave me waiting, pacing, smoking and rewriting my vows.
So where’s Andy?
For the wedding, Andy wore a leather vest that I made dyed black and decorated with Celtic knots over a button up shirt, above simple grey slacks complete with a silver dagger. It was the last part that made all the commotion.
My grandfather likes to tell stories, entertain and draw attention. Anyone who knows him or has met him knows this. We all love him for it, but this time it didn’t work out like he planned. While talking to Andy on the front stone steps, he dramatically relieved Andy of his dagger, dragging the blade across his tongue in a very Dracula sort of way (as I’m told), and moved to replace it back in its sheath….but its dark….and he…uh…misses and is aiming for the belt and not the sheath. Andy notices, but has little time to stop it. Before anyone can see what’s happening or stop it, grandpa sticks the dagger 5 inches into Andy’s leg (as you would if you were inserting a dagger into a sheath…it has to go all the way…echem…ouch). Grandpa hadn’t noticed what had happened, and as he was walking away, he smiled when
Andy yelled out “You fucking stabbed me!” Apparently he didn’t believe it either.
Luckily, we just happened to have a bonafide Nurse on hand who helped temporarily bandage his leg for the evening, but before she arrived, Andy’s brothers and groomsmen were frantically trying to stop the blood and save the pants. Someone told him he should go to the hospital. “Fuck all that! I’m not going to the Hospital! I’m getting married.”
Without me knowing anything about it, and while trying to keep all the “crazy crazy” from the rest of the guests, Andy got bandaged up and set out to walk down the aisle. I’ve seen the footage of him walking down the aisle. He didn’t even limp. I know it’s no one’s hope for their husband-to-be to get stabbed before the wedding, but I have a strange pride and respect for him walking down the aisle with such poise and strength despite it all.
I didn’t notice he was hurt. He was out of sorts, and on the wrong side of the alter, but I just thought that he must be in as much of a fog as I was.
I didn’t notice anything was wrong until we were back in the house after the ceremony, when he staggered slightly, at which point I immediately asked “What’s wrong?” I didn’t get the full scoop until later, but I was less than pleased.
Needless to say, there was no retaliation of any sorts, in fact, here’s a picture where Andy is explaining to grandpa what had actually happened on the stairs…and they don’t look like they’re going to be at each other’s throats anytime soon. The general agreement was that it’d make on hell of a story…which it has.
Despite the stabbing, it was a fantastic evening. There were toasts we’ll never forget, music that probably woke up all of Laurel Canyon and booze and food a flowin’.
After the ceremony, I was in a fog, everything a blur, and with the added trouble of everyone being in costume, I couldn’t keep up with who was walking up to me. I just wanted to find Andy, sit down and try to gather myself...and have a cigarette. Through all the people I ran into and the stories to tell and the fog to walk through, I got to the food just in time to see it being cleaned up, but we lived the night out long, lounging outside until the wee hours, and reviving the depleting alcohol with trips to the store more than a few times.
I have a difficult time describing our wedding. I was vibrating with energy and at the same time, lacking the ability to walk, talk or discern what the hell was going on. I was….there isn’t a word for the feeling I had when we exchanged vows. I couldn’t stop smiling, and when we were pronounced husband and wife, I didn’t want to stop kissing Andy. I felt like we had just come out of a great battle and were now reaping the celebration, tossing the booze and laughing it up. Like any other great victory, you celebrate with food, booze, laughter, music and yes…sex. With or without the battle wound, Andy and I had no intention of ending the night without consummating our marriage. …echem…
It was unconventional (so much so that I even had a relative refuse to come due to the temptation of the devil), it was an adventure, it was perilous, but when you look at it, it was like any other wedding: there were vows, there were speeches, there was food, drink, music, celebration and love….it was just done a touch differently.
Being that I was in such a fog, people keep telling me parts of the wedding that I missed. Don’t stop now. I want to know everything that happened.
Once we can get something to convert the VHS, we’ll put together a little video of the wedding too.
PICTURES OF THE WEDDING HERE
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