the next wave of weddings is beginning to ripple like fart water in a bath tub. now the 'second time arounds', and 'perpetually phobic of settling down' are finally compiling their own registries at target.
and so to detroit, for a formerly commitment averse's bridal baptism. or rather; a swedish-mexican-roman-catholic affair that was quite possibly longer than the first harry potter film. *
as with long haul flights, ceremonies that exceed the time it takes to read 'harry potter and the goblet of fire', should at least put the junior bridesmaids to work and have them pass out a few concessions. and considering you get two bags of pretzels flying from louisville to chicago, the volume and quantity of communion at these events needs to be reviewed.
in light of these supersized ceremonies, there is a largely untapped market to "rent a screaming infant". very few pew mates will ask to see evidence of a dirty nappy when your little poopsie is reaching the decibels only babies can achieve upon an aeroplane's initial descent from 30,000 feet. either that, or the muttering officiant in the pulpit needs to be replaced by the oxy-clean guy.
furthermore, guests have already spent more hours than airfare waiting for; a delayed 737/ $15 banana cucumber scone at the au bon pain in terminal 3/a cigarette scented pt cruiser at the alamo desk, and so killing time in a city that has embraced the dictum "bullets are the new body piercing", while the bride and groom drive to various scenic bridges/cupid fountains/weather patterns that have left a rainbow, to shoot several memory sticks of sepia toned olan mills moments is just churlish. meanwhile, your jetlagged friends have navigated the stinky pt cruiser through armageddon twice in order to find the type of chain restaurant that nails grandfather clocks, unicycles and football helmets to the wall, all to sit and nurse $15 drinks the colour of antifreeze, while dressed in freshly dry cleaned ann taylor loft for 5 hours.
finally, no one under the age of 68 enjoys sugared almonds in a net bag- even if they are colour matched to your bridesmaids' shoes. and no one 69-plus has enough natural tooth to aid in the mastication and digestion of pastel covered hardware. candles are always the more considerate option, because if they don't melt all over the interior surface of your suitcase while sitting on the luggage cart at gate D12, they are easily stored in kitchen cupboards behind the bread machine and smiley face waffle maker.
and for those who don't want to spend the ceremony-reception limbo sitting at the bar in TGI friday's, stalking a mariachi band warming up in the car park provides an alternative diversion.
* for nuptuals set in the motor city, there were disappointingly few crack pipe centre pieces.