Jun 5, 2015 3 min read

Last Saturday, I went to a wonderful wedding. Since it’s only June, it might be too early to call it the “wedding of the year,” but it was certainly up there as one of the best parties I’ve ever attended, even though it had a shaky start.

Just like in the movies, there was a tense moment in the church. Right before the exchange of the rings, the bride, my cousin, got up and disappeared. The bridal party, the priest and the altar boys all followed, leaving a room full of people all dressed up for a wedding without a wedding. We sat there for a few long moments. I’m pretty sure some people thought she ran away, but if you ever saw the two of them together you would know they were meant to be. I had no doubts.

One minute after the altar emptied, the murmurs started. As a lapsed Catholic myself, I was wondering if this was some new ritual to which I wasn’t privy. Maybe they updated the ceremony to include a rousing game of hide-and-seek, except no one yelled, “Ollie Ollie oxen free!”

The truth began to dawn on me. I surmised that Andrea forgot to eat that day. I surmised correctly, which was good because I don’t do a lot of surmising. I ponder. I wonder. I even speculate, but I do very little surmising.

It turns out that a bundle of raw emotion, a few sleepless nights, an empty stomach and a ridiculously warm church are the prime ingredients for a bridal fainting spell.

She managed to muster up the energy to finish the ceremony. A few “With this rings” later, they were married. We gave them a standing ovation.

Then, the bride was carted out on a stretcher. I know! Surely, you’re thinking, “Whatty what now?!?”

Since we already cleared our schedules for the day, we went off to the reception, assuming there was still going to be one. We stood around for a while, hoping the bridal party was going to show. It was another odd moment, but the bride finally arrived with her entourage, with nary a paramedic in sight. Champagne corks popped in effervescent joy.

The rest of the evening was fantastic.

Side note: I feel obligated to mention the cookie table. It’s a Pittsburgh tradition! Back in the day, families couldn’t afford wedding cakes, so the aunts would all get together and bake cookies. Nowadays, the tradition stands, even though there is a wedding cake, and money no longer seems to be an issue (I just mentioned the champagne). There were an estimated 3,700 cookies at four long tables; chocolate chip cookies, nut rolls, cream cakes, candied fruit, biscotti, baklava, pignoli (pine nut) cookies, buckeyes, chocolate spice cookies, thumbprints, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum. My cousin Maria boasted, “Yeah, there’s a lot, but there were five thousand at my wedding!”

My family really, really likes cookies.

But I digress, like I do. Later in the evening, our beautiful bride reminded us, “You can plan every detail of your wedding, and things might go wrong, but all you really need is love.”