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| The Perfect Wedding |
| I was the most organized bride the saleswoman had ever seen, she kept saying. I had decided to do it all myself, to take care of every detail, to orchestrate the wedding of my dreams. I had turned away friends' offers of help. How could I trust others to be the perfectionist I knew myself to be? There would be no quick decisions here, no cutting corners. Everything would be planned down to the smallest detail, and every detail would be double-checked and then checked again. I had found the perfect setting, a historic mansion nestled in the countryside. It was expensive and extravagant. As soon as I saw it I knew that nothing else would do. It was immensely over our budget, but I was thrilled. For weeks I proudly brought family and friends to the mansion. We took pictures of the lavish ballroom, the exquisitely decorated parlors and the magnificent chandeliers. I envisioned the wedding party winding down the spiral staircase; the wedding toast would be held by the fireplace in one of the parlors; guests would be able to roam through a piece of history. It would be magical. The photographer was selected. Yes, she had photographed the mansion. Yes, it would be so very perfect. One by one I selected a florist, caterer, etc...paying for all of the little extras. It would be worth the added money, I heard myself saying more than once. I threw out our budget. Along with the budget, I discarded my sanity. I thought, ate, drank and slept only for the wedding; it continually replayed in my dreams. Forget work. My day-to-day conversation revolved around "the wedding". I had no knowledge of world events. I was a woman possessed. The caterer seemed amused when I fully documented a minor menu change. The pianist had probably been expecting a handshake, but received a word-processed contract to sign and return. Nothing could go wrong; I had thought of everything. Time soared by and no problems popped up (but then, how could they?). Everything was signed, sealed, and soon-to-be delivered. The announcements had been sent, their LOVE stamps heralding the contents held within. With a week and a half to go, I had just picked up my gown and the sun was shining. I took a deep breath; everything had been checked off my lists. There would be time for the manicurist after all. That same afternoon my "perfect" wedding was shattered with a single phone call. The mansion's upstairs sprinklers had burst over the weekend, spilling water everywhere. It had soaked through the ceiling and to the floor below; the chandeliers had dropped as the ceilings buckled, the beautiful antique furniture had been ruined, the carpets destroyed. The mansion's wedding coordinator said the city inspectors had shut them down, condemning the building...they were so very sorry... I called my fiance, my attendants, friends and family. I called everyone I knew...even people I hadn't invited to the wedding. We had eight days to find another place to hold the suddenly much-less-than perfect wedding. I broke down. All of my friends kept telling me that it would beautiful and special no matter where it was held. I didn't believe them. The wedding of my dreams had become my worst nightmare. A few days later, we were called to the mansion. There was a chance we could use one room, the ballroom, because there had been no water damage there. We went. What was once beauty had become total devastation. All of the beautiful furniture had already been removed, the ceilings were buckled and peeling, and the rich burgundy carpets had all been ripped out. Bright yellow "DANGER" signs and "KEEP OUT" tape were everywhere, over everything. We had to wear hard hats. Yes, we could use the one room, but nothing else. No longer would guests be able to wander through this once-great piece of history; no intimate parlor area for the toast; no luxurious staircase; no grand entryway. And, since the restrooms were in the restricted area, the mansion would pay to have portable toilets placed in the garden for our guests to use. I was horrified, picturing myself entering an outhouse in my wedding gown! And the room wouldn't hold all of the guests. Where would we put everyone - outside? But would the weather hold? It had been iffy, with periods of rain. We made one brief and dismal attempt to find another location. All we could find at such a late date was a city-owned community center - one very large auditorium with lots of plastic and metal. Everything else was booked. So, we accepted the compromise (what else could we do?). We threw out the majority of our plans; all of the details didn't matter anymore. Nothing would be perfect now. The wedding day came. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. The destruction of the mansion was camouflaged behind partitions, but a few of the bright yellow danger signs still peered out conspicuously from doorways and corners. The portable toilet out front glistened in the sun, a large pink wedding bell taped to its door. It was a beautiful ceremony. And the reception was flawless and fun. Everyone raved about the ballroom and the clever idea we had of serving the champagne outside on the patio (and people asked, "were they renovating the mansions?"). It was the most wonderful and memorable experience of my life... My friends were right after all. No matter what, it was the perfect wedding for us. |
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