It was one of those surreal weekends in which the scenery changed rapidly: teaching at the JCC in Pikesville, a Catholic wedding, learning to drive stick in the car of my whatever-you-call-my-mother’s-gentleman-friend, all in the space of about thirty-six hours.
As we got ready for the Philly / South Jersey wedding, I mentioned to Scott that I’ve probably spent more time in Catholic churches than I have in synagogues in my adult life. Given my long history with Catholics and their historically long events, it’s not hyperbole. Overall the wedding was lovely. In fact, it may very well be the most perfect wedding I’ve ever attended: elegant but not fussy, free of drama, and full of people who seemed to be having a great time. Still it was weird for me. I was surprised by the amount of cleavage and hooker shoes in a church at 10:30 in the morning, and just as I was thinking that I am so totally over weddings and everything associated with them, the bride walked down the aisle and I got all weepy. Regardless, I kept myself quietly occupied through the service and reception. Here are the highlights.
- Bible passages read with a thick Philly accent are funny, probably to no one but me.
- The priest freaking CHUGGED the wine.
- The altar girl seriously needed to get her hair out of her face. Oh my god, I’m old.
- Every time the vocalist got to the response part of the call and response hymns, she turned into the statue of liberty: arm straight up, gaze unblinking into the horizon.
- Altar Girl, GET YOUR HAIR OUT OF YOUR FACE.
- Last supper? It was a Seder! Passover! Matzoh!
- “Peace be with you” always sets off a flashback to the first Catholic mass I attended – a wedding with my college boyfriend. I absolutely swooned when he shook my hand and then kissed me in church. Church! With the god and the Jesus and everything! Sadly, though, the effect was short-lived. While crosses on every wall of his parents’ house did little to cast out his desire to sin, it pretty much turned me into a nun for the weekend. (His parents were lovely folks, and his mother was especially apologetic about automatically buying a ham for dinner the first night I was there. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t figure out exactly how to explain that I didn’t eat ham not because I’m Jewish, but because I’m a vegetarian.)
- Also, during “peace be with you,” I almost blurted out “Om Shanti Shanti Shanti.”
- When everyone got in line for communion, I could check out what they were wearing. Scott and I were particularly enthralled by a girl who looked like a cocktail waitress at a casino. Later, at the reception, while I was still trying to get the concepts “gold tube top” and “Catholic wedding” to occupy the same space in my brain, Scott found out that the cocktail waitress tube top girl was only sixteen. We both felt kind of filthy after that.
- At the reception, I watched a kid eat an entire plate of olives.
The wedding ended early enough that we got back to my mom’s house in time for a driving lesson. Rick took me out in his car, where I was thunderstruck by the realization that I am deeply in love with transmissions. The union of husband and wife may be a symbol of god’s love for the world, but the union of my foot and a clutch is a symbol of god’s love for dorky ass women with control issues, who stay up late at night reading about engines. I know it’s ridiculous to be this excited about driving after barely making it into second gear – so be it. Why didn’t anyone tell me how awesome this is?
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Matzoh!