Saturday was the greatest night of my life.
I know I’m prone to hyperbole on this blog, but this time I’m not exaggerating.
Surrounded by 200 or so family and friends, I became the luckiest man in the world by getting married to a most special woman.
The whole day rolled by like one long highlight reel movie, from waking up and realizing “Holy cow, I’m getting married TODAY!”, to lunch with my groomsmen and Best Man, to a quick game of bowling (hey, we had time to kill), to all that came afterward.
As you might expect, amid the revelry and joy and love, I was taking mental snapshots throughout, and while I don’t have much of a voice left to say lots of these things, that’s the beauty of the page.
So before I jet off on our honeymoon, a (somewhat) brief collection of thoughts from the Big Day:
— First of all, I want to come back as a guest at my own wedding. While I only had time to sample a few of the many delicacies, the one overriding comment everyone kept telling us all night was a variation on “Man, this food is amazing.” Hey, I did what I could, I told everyone there that the sweet potato fries drizzled with molasses were the best thing ever, and they were.
— I know now why people have their wedding filmed: It’s so they can see what the hell went on. We were dragged every which way so often that for the next two days people told me stuff that occurred and I had no idea about any of it. I had a hell of a time, but apparently I missed a hell of a time, too.
— So bizarre seeing all my “worlds colliding” over the weekend. One time during the rehearsal dinner I saw a friend from college talking to a childhood chum’s wife, with my mother leaning in and listening, too. It’s so strange seeing all the important people in your life in one place.
— Funniest comment by far of the entire weekend from one of my friends: “Now that I’ve met both of your parents, I don’t understand at all why they got divorced. They seem like the perfect couple!”
I laughed so hard people at the next table looked at me. My parents are fabulous, the best ever parents, but the perfect couple, they were not.
— Proud to say I broke the glass as per Jewish tradition in one foot-stomp. Didn’t need a second or third try.
— One of the only disappointments Saturday night, and really it’s a minor one, was what happened with our “First Dance.” My beloved bride and I had taken dance lessons, and choreographed a whole beginning, middle and ending. It wasn’t “Dancing With the Stars”-worthy, but we worked hard on it.
Thirty seconds into our little routine, the band leader (who was otherwise fantastic) invited all other couples onto the dance floor, and there went our little routine. Oh well.
— One of my favorite writers, the great Joe Posnanski, once said that for one day in our lives, we get to feel like Brad and Angelina do every day: our wedding day. And he was right: It’s incredible to have a day where you’re the stars, everyone wants to take your picture and steal a few moments of your time. But I completely understand how it could get exhausting if your every day was like that.
**Finally, as you might expect, this blog will go dormant for a few weeks; Wednesday morning my new bride and I begin our two-week honeymoon, and I sure as heck don’t think I’ll have time or the inclination to be blogging.
But I promise to return on June 17, assuming I don’t get eaten by a shark while swimming on the beaches of Hawaii.