Page 71

“This is incredible!” Barbi calls out over the cacophony of voices, her eyes shining with exhilaration. Our new friends keep the liquor flowing and Barbi and I do our best to catch up to them.
“Isn’t it?” I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
As we drink and dance, our bodies move in sync to the music. I can’t help but marvel at the way Barbi so effortlessly embraces this unexpected turn of events. Her ability to find joy in the present is nothing short of inspiring. And as we laugh and sing alongside our newfound friends, I want nothing more than to protect and nurture her indomitable spirit.
“Hey, guys!” one of the brides shouts, clapping her hands to get our attention. “Almost time for our Elvis-themed wedding ceremony. It’s gonna be so much fun. You should join us.”
“Wh-what?” Barbi stammers, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Come on.” I lean over, my voice low and persuasive. It’s my turn to embrace spontaneity. “Let’s do it.”
“Really?” Uncertainty flickers across her face, but as she looks into my eyes, searching for reassurance, her resolve strengthens. A smile plays at the corners of her lips. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
“Whoop! Whoop!” The five sets of brides and grooms shout and jump as we all move out of the karaoke bar and into a party bus. The only sober person is the driver because the rest of us pop more champagne, make grander and grander toasts, and the excitement builds.
The bus arrives at a tacky chapel decked out in all the kitschy glamour of a 1950’s Las Vegas wedding, with bright pink and blue lights, glittering streamers, and neon signs celebrating love.
We all file out of the party bus and enter the chapel. The air’s heavy with the scent of flowers and the unmistakable tang of cigar smoke and booze. The officiant, a fake Elvis decked out in a white jumpsuit with rhinestone-studded lapels, grins as he adjusts his fake sideburns.
“Well, well, well, looks like we’ve gotta whole lotta lovin’ goin’ on tonight,” he drawls in a thick Southern accent. “Are y’all ready to tie the knot?”
The brides and grooms laugh and cheer, the atmosphere electric with anticipation, as they line up. The aisle is narrow, allowing only two couples side-by-side. They shift their positions several times, looking nervous as hell, while Barbi and I hang toward the back.
Barbi’s hand shakes in mine, but she looks at me with a smile equal parts joy and disbelief. I’m right there with her. How did we highjack a wedding?
Elvis music plays, and we all sway and sing to the corny toon, celebrating the moment. The couple standing in the back gesture to Barbi and me to join them, looking a bit out of sorts, with the off-balanced symmetry. With a shrug, we join them, evening things out.
Fake Elvis launches into his spiel, his voice booming through the chapel. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate these unions of mighty fine couples. You may not have known each other five minutes ago, but in the eyes of Elvis, that’s all it takes.”
As he speaks, I can’t help but glance at the others gathered around. This is nothing like how I would want my wedding, but it is definitely unique. These brides and grooms are an amazing group of friends to pull off this crazy group wedding. It’s clear they’re longtime friends and they’re united in this absurd, yet wonderful moment.
But Barbi and I aren’t the only strangers here. A pair of elderly tourists peek into the chapel, holding hands with giddy smiles on their faces. A couple of tattooed bikers, their leather jackets adorned with patches declaring their love, follow on their heels.
The brides and grooms think the newcomers are cool and ask them to file on in behind us. We make room for the new arrivals, bunching up closer to the fake Elvis’s stage.
Fake Elvis takes a pause, waiting for the new arrivals to gather around.
“Well, well, well, looks like we got some more lovebirds joining us tonight.” Fake Elvis gestures toward the elderly tourists and the biker couple. “C’mon down, folks. Let’s make this a wedding to remember.”
The tourists and the bikers exchange glances, smiles growing wider on their faces when they realize they won’t have to wait for this wedding to end before starting theirs.
“Now, I don’t know ‘bout y’all, but I think it’s high time we made these marriages official,” Fake Elvis continues. “Let’s get to it.” He turns to us and winks, then launches into his spiel once again.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate love in all its forms. Whether you’ve known each other for five minutes or fifty years, the love that brings you together is what matters most.”
He pauses for effect, then continues.
“Now, who has rings?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.
Amidst the laughter and cheers of the crowd, one of the brides steps forward with a tray of cheap cardboard rings sprayed with gold paint. She passes the tray around. Everyone takes a ring, when it gets to us, Barbi shakes her head and pushes it away.
I reach over her and take two of the rings. “Come on, where’s your spirit of adventure?” I hand her one as the rest of the rings are handed out.
“We’re not getting married!”
“Barbi, it’s not real. Like Elvis up there, it’s all fake and just for fun.”
“Just for fun?”