A Nice Day for a Dry Wedding
Before I started dating a man from a Seventh Day Adventist household, I never imagined that such a thing as a “dry wedding” existed. For the most part, I was under the impression that weddings existed for the same reason as social media – so drunk people could embarrass themselves and have it permanently chronicled on digital media – thus, ensuring that no one will ever, ever forget it.
The warning came a couple of nights before: “So I hear this is a dry wedding.”
“Yeah, no alcohol. But I have FLASKS.”
Ahhh, yes. Drinkers can be both creative and very stealthy when it comes to getting their drink on.
After the reception starts, I began to see certain people disappearing to their vehicles for unreasonably long periods of time. But I understand. I mean, how fun can a dry wedding be?
The wedding party makes their grand entrance – dancing and acting silly as the festivities start. Then came dinner. Sparkling grape juice and apple juice adorned each table. The DJ accidentally referred to this as “champagne.” Still, toasts were made. And in addition to a delectable buffet of both American and Asian cuisine, Soft drinks and virgin cocktails were served. But if people are spiking their drinks, I had to wonder, is it really a dry wedding after all?
After dinner, the dancing begins. And people dance. A LOT of them. A collection of mostly Caucasian and Filipino families, ultimately joined together by just two people. There are large groups of people dancing in step to the Electric Slide, among other wedding favorites. Several of the guys had a sort of “dance off”, much to the excitement and amusement of onlookers. The bride is getting table dances from the groomsmen. Non-dancers are forced to partake, laughing as they are manipulated into dancing by their friends, just like life-sized marionettes. The DJ plays “Footloose”, and a man whom my husband described to me as “the most extroverted person I ever met” goes into full Kevin Bacon mode. Totally sober.
Meanwhile, the secret drinkers retreat to their cars. It’s unseasonably chilly out, but it’s warm and festive inside the reception. I began to realize that in the big scheme of things, the closet boozers were being a lot less social that the rest of the group, who were dancing and goofing off, uninhibited and yet in control of the fun. And it’s not as if the drinkers were getting wasted. They were just forced to the outskirts of the event due to the unwanted limitation.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a wedding where people were that close, accepting, and were ready to have fun with anyone and everyone. On a Sunday, no less. Ending at a reasonable time, but not so early as to appear lame and boring. Friendships were forged and rekindled, Facebook profiles exchanged and tearful goodbyes uttered. Little girls with light-up shoes found the strobe reflections on the dance floor an endless source of entertainment.
No one was angry, no one fought or fell down, and no one hit on someone else’s date.
All in all, I have to say it was a beautiful day for a dry wedding.