Maurice, King of the Dance Floor
No, I did not make up this appellation. Read on to learn how I was thus coronated!
Well, today's the big day! Christopher Gray's getting hitched (I almost typed "kitched", which in a whole 'nother matter).
The usual wakeup, feeding and grooming attended to, I decided I wanted to get a card to go with the wedding present. Fortunately, a big mall is mere blocks away from the hotel, so I strolled off in search of it. Between my bed and mass consumerism stands the State Capital building of Rhode Island. How instrusive!
After checking a few stores, I bought a calligraphy pen and a box of lime green stationary paper, and a line green ribbon...lime to symbolize the limes of the delicious margarita recipe I wrote with it (see entry for Monday the 19th). Oh, I also bought a piece of paper with an old map of Paris on it, as that's where Chris & Lee's honeymoon is to take place. Yes, you would not normally associate Paris with Margaritas, but this ain't your traditional couple nor your traditional wedding.
After a brief stop at the hotel to change, it was off to the Manning Chapel at "RizDEE". I won't get into excessive detail about the wedding, but in short it was a modified Jewish ceremony, with a chuppa, the Metropolitan Klezmer band, and the traditional wine-glass stomping to bring it to a close. Lee survived a near down-the-aisle makeup distaster from an overeager aunt wearing a Tammy Faye of lipstick, and the guests laughed as Chris Corrigan's yarmulke refused to stay on his head as he did a reading. Christopher looked dashing in his vintage suit and orange shirt, and Lee was quite the blushing bride. I was all smiles. I've never see Christopher so happy, and it was so sweet watching him dab at his eyes throughout the proceedings. When he got the ring on, he held his hand up to the audience and pointed at it and silently went "YEAH!" much to everyone's delight.
I didn't realize how many guests there were until we all lined up for a group shot.
As the photographer shot the family and wedding party photos I got the car and headed for the reception. As has been the case this entire trip I had a really hard time finding the place, and went round and round until I finally spotted it. I like New England, but oy! will I be glad to get back to driving in California!
The reception was held at a club called the Hi Hat. The food was amazing, the bar was open (and I got the biggest Godfather I've ever seen), and the crowd was a delight. The Metropolitan Klezmer played for the first part of the reception, and Christopher's mom even took the part of accordionist during bride and groom's first dance. Naturally, what with the Jewish aspect, there was a lot of traditional dancing in big chains running around the room. Whew!
I know you're all dying to know about the caption on the photo topping this entry. Patience! Once the dinner and cake was done (there was no smashing cake in each other's faces...this crowd's not that low class), the klesmer band left the stage and the other music started. On the RSVP cards they had asked the guests what's their favorite song to dance to. They them loaded these all onto a iPod and hooked that into the sound system. That's a lot of guests and a lot of songs. Hours and hours of it. And, fool that I am, I was out there dancing and dancing and dancing with anyoen end everyone. The funnist thing was, most of the time when I'd end up dancing with Lee's mother, the song that came on was suggestive. First off, she's wearing a deep red dress and on comes "Brick House", and I totally play it up gesturing at her and doing hourglass shaped with my hands at "The lady's stacked and that's a fact, ain't holding nothing back"! Another time it was "Baby Got Back", then "Super Freak" ("She's a very kinky girl..."). And she loved it...albeit I don't think she always knew the songs or quite caught the subject matter!
Between dances I'd drag myself to the men's room and douse my head with cold water to cool off (the advantage to balding and buzzing the rest off). By the end of it, my feet -- in my stylin' burgundy leather shoes -- were killing me. Undaunted and fearless of blisters, I shucked the footgear and finished the night dancing in my stocking feet with probably every lady on the floor and momentarily with a few of the guys. Oh, and the bride, natch!
And that, dear readers, is how I was crowned King of the Dance Floor.
The reception, which started probably about 4:30, finally wrapped up at 11:30, mostly because the staff of the club practically booted us out. It was the longest, best and most fun wedding reception it's ever been my pleasure to attend.
But will I have blisters in the morning?