2007-07-09 - 7:04 p.m.
We had our wedding ceremony starting at 6. Not quite magic hour but getting there � the sun was pretty low and the rays were starting to slant. It was outdoors, between two wings of a building. There were over 60 guests � which we thought was an impressive number to come all the way to Las Vegas. We thought we were being smart by having it Memorial Day weekend, as it gives people an extra day to get home. But actually it turns out that people make plans for Memorial Day like years in advance, so some invitees were booked.
I won�t go into details about the ceremony, because some of it I don�t remember very well. I mean, I was really nervous through most of it. I was so aware that I was doing something Important, probably the most important thing I�ll ever do. There was a videographer there filming it. I guess I can catch the DVD to remind myself. I do remember the minister (I�m Jewish and Nya�s American Buddhist, so he didn�t use the J.C. name, although I think he was some sort of Protestant) was a very calming guy (and my friend Max paid the guy as a wedding present, so props to him!).
There was the entrance procession, of course. First our families, then me, then the woman herself. They did play canned music but it was surprisingly un-Vegas/cheesy. It was remarkably restrained (as was the whole ceremony, now that I think about it). Nya looked so beautiful in her ivory outfit (she�s not really a flowing wedding dress kind of girl and went with a tux � think Marlene Dietrich). When she came down the aisle, I felt this combination of amazement and disbelief. How did I get so lucky? It�s a good thing I�m in a wheelchair; otherwise everyone would have been able to see my knees knocking.
There was a very moving ritual where we gave roses to our mothers to thank them for all they�d done in our lives. Nya�s mom actually seemed quite touched, which I didn�t expect. I had thought that she disapproved of her daughter marrying a crip, that she wanted no part in what we were doing. But in fact she was indeed involved. She and her husband had bought comedy club tickets for our whole party the night before. She had spent the hours before the wedding with Nya, doing her hair and make up.
I had thought that Nya�s mother would be the unhappy camper at our wedding. In fact, it turned out to be my parents. Let me give you this: they chewed gum through most of the ceremony. (That hurt a lot. Were they bored? I certainly hope not.) My mom in particular seemed dissatisfied and almost angry through the reception too, walking around a lot (and always on her own, never with my father) and sometimes harrumphing.
Now, I�m not discounting the fact that she held (and worked extra jobs to pay for) a later reception for us near her house (about which I�ll write later). But it almost seemed as if she were stoically tolerating this Vegas business to get to the thing in Westchester. Mom, I wanted to say. This is the real deal; we�re not just joking around here. Enjoy yourself, please! Was she happy to be given a rose at the ceremony? I certainly hope so, but I don�t really know.
I do remember the gaffe I made right before the ring exchange. I was all nervous fumbly and dropped the ring when I was about to give it to her.
�Shit,� I muttered out loud.
Nya looked at me in mock-disgust. �Watch your language!� she said.
I guess I had interjected humor into a solemn occasion. The guests in the audience at least were amused and laughed.
Our rings were crafted from material from a rather gaudy pinky ring my grandfather gave me many years ago. Hers is white gold with the small diamonds from the ring inlaid around it. Mine is plain yellow gold. I�m afraid I don�t remember the vows we pledged when exchanging rings. But several guests commented later that my voice was so earnest when I said mine that it broke their heart. With the exchange of rings, by the power invested in the minister by the state of Nevada, we were pronounced man and wife. Wow. Double-wow!
After the whole picture-taking rigmarole, we went in to the reception. It was again a surprisingly un-tacky/Vegas space. It was almost classy-ish-esque-like. Good deal. We had rented it online sight unseen, just the virtual tour. How did people ever arrange destination weddings before the Internet? We had our own little table, but everyone else had open seating (it was buffet-style food). Which is great because we didn�t have to work out some complex seating arrangement (okay X and Y hate each other, but Z is related to X and friends with Y�).
We had bought a bunch of fuzzy dice and goofy drink cups, with the intention of handing out prizes to guests. Ate the most at Liberace lunch, drank the most at the comedy club, most likely to relocate to Vegas after this weekend, etc. I wanted to give one for �came the furthest to be here�, but there were many people from equidistant New York. So I decided to switch it to �person who sacrificed the most to be here�.
This was going to go to a poor graduate student friend of mine and Nya�s both. (I had originally met her at CTY at 15, then gone to her junior prom with her. A few years later, Nya quite independently met her in Charlottesville, VA, where she was going to college and Nya�s father was living.) But my sister protested that she was a poor grad student too, poorer in fact because she paid high rent to live in Manhattan.
I decided to change it to �person going the furthest from the wedding� (my sister�s boyfriend, flying to a job in Bahrain after!). I figured that might appease her. But we wouldn�t announce prize-winners or anything else on the mike. Instead it would be used by our best man and maid of honor (as I said, respectively my sister and Nya�s best friend) to toast (and roast) us.
My sister went first. She said that when she was at Saint Ann�s, three years below me and four below Nya, Nya was the coolest girl at school and everyone looked up to her. (I certainly did.) She also said that, as her older brother, she had always looked up to me. Aw. It made her very happy that two heroes of hers were now spending the rest of their lives together. (Hey, I was pretty happy about that, too�)
Then Nya�s friend spoke. He read several pages of speech and when he was done with each one, he�d toss it on the floor with a dramatic flair. I found it quite an impressive delivery! He talked about how Nya had been his best friend for years (although their friendship sadly didn�t seem to last through the next day, but I�ll write about that later) and he was rather miffed that I�d taken her away from him, even if it meant her happiness.
He said that Nya had taught him everything he knows about comedy and he was very glad that she was pursuing its study in Chicago. He noted that he wondered, like everyone, how we had sex with me as a crip (the answer: amazingly!), but assumed we were very satisfied, judging from the smiles on our faces and the way we looked at each other (this of course prompted a great deal of harrumphing from my parents).
We didn�t want the DJ playing the usual wedding songs (�Celebrate� by Kool & the Gang � a particular fear of mine, �Dancing in September�. �Macarena�, you know the drill), so we got a bunch of music we wanted to hear. We asked him to play some of those and similar songs of his choosing. I guess we picked mostly songs from the late-80s/early-90s and songs that were meaningful to us for various reasons.
The DJ did a pretty good job. Sadly, he didn�t get to Blondie�s �Atomic�. But he did play the Psychedelic Furs� �All That Money Wants�, Public Image Limited�s �Rise�, Deee-Lite�s �Groove Is in the Heart�, Soft Cell�s �Tainted Love�, and New Order�s �Temptation�. Also �Night Train� by James Brown, cause he�s undeniably cool, and �I Put a Spell on You� by Screamin� Jay Hawkins, cause he had like 75 illegitimate kids and you can�t argue with that.
For true Las Vegas style, we got indoor fireworks. Yes, indoor fireworks. Several tables had innocuous, if odd, looking centerpieces, like a bunch of strange-shaped candles. At a pause in the dinner, there was an announcement to stand clear. Then the �candles� went off as fireworks with a whoosh and a bang. Roman candle-like flares streaked up and there were loud explosions.
Our guests oohed and aahed in amazement (if nothing else, they were certainly surprised). Fortunately neither of us had invited any shell-shocked relatives who might have run away screaming, thinking they were under bombardment. Personally, I was a little disappointed in the performance. I had expected a more elaborate display and I didn�t feel the thing had gone on terribly long, considering the extra money we�d paid for it.
But our guests certainly enjoyed it. Several came up to me afterwards and said that our indoor fireworks were the most Las Vegas part of their weekend. Well, except for maybe Liberace� Annoyingly, despite the fact that the catering hall set up indoor fireworks, they wouldn�t let us use the many sparklers we�d gotten for the guests indoors. We asked them to only light them outside, which meant that every time I went outside for some air I was showered in sparks by someone else out there.
I�m sure you�re all wondering about how we did our first dance together. Firstly, as I mentioned, we switched our song at the last minute from �Flight 180� to �Things Are What You Make of Them� � much more meaningful to us. (We did play �Flight 180� and danced to it, but later on.) As I mentioned, I had gotten an oversized wheelchair which looked like a giant throne but supported a great deal of weight (I guess it was for especially heavy people with disabilities).
When they played our wedding song, Nya got onto my chair and sat in my lap. She was facing sideways towards the joystick and she used it to guide us in a slow pattern through the song. It felt exactly right. A number of guests said we had the most romantic dance they�d ever seen. Certainly, it was the most romantic dance I�ve ever been involved in myself. Through it all, we both kept thinking a thought that often brings a smile these days: �Hey, look over there! That�s Nya!� �That�s Geoff!�
The love of my life in high school; the love of my life now and forever. The first time I understood what beauty was; the beauty I wake up next to every morning now. How did this happen? How did I get so lucky? If you had said back in the day that in the future I�d have MS, Nya would be a recovering alcoholic, and we�d be married� Well, I would have told you to quit hogging the bowl. But now I�m married to Nya! This is real! Yay!
But perhaps my favorite part of the reception was Nya�s dance with her father. They did it to Bob Dylan�s �Just Like Tom Thumb�s Blues; they used to dance to that when Nya was little. This song is so tied to its time, an era that has (for better or for worse) passed on. Similarly most of the songs we played are a product of their time, an era that has (whether we like it or not) also passed on.
It was touching to be reminded that time moves forward inexorably. The songs of our youth (like the places we heard them � anyone remember Mars Bar?) are faded now. But our love remains. Indeed, it has been reborn for a new era. And it will continue to go on as time passes. When today�s hottest fashions and music are as retro as the Lindy-hop, we will still love each other.
And that�s how I married my high school girlfriend.
� 2007 Geoff Gladstone
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