Stuck in an Elevator on our Wedding Day (Part I)
For better or worse (a fictional tale)
There was a jolt and a buzz and a deadly quiet standstill. The lights then died, leaving the cubicle of space in a deathly, coffin-like darkness.
He went for his phone first, activating the flashlight and hitting the emergency button. No response.
A trickle of sweat dripped off the end of his nose as he frantically texted his groomsmen — to no avail.
No bars, no WIFI, no good.
With his back to the wall, he slid to the floor in resignation, hands resting on raised knees — frantically texting, testing the existence of internet and finally accepting its failure to engage.
Head cradled in hands, the picture of dejection, he closed his eyes and gave in to the wait.
There are so many traditions for weddings! Honestly, you can’t even begin to honor them all — and so you must just pick and choose.
And did you know that in today’s world, it’s practically a tradition to ignore the traditions? Anybody else confused yet, besides me?
So, it’s my wedding day. I’m currently experiencing the thrill of being THE bride.
I’ve been to countless weddings.
When I was a tiny girl, we played “wedding” with lacy trains on our heads, while a spotted dog wearing a bow tie was our groom. My sister knew the notes on the piano for “Here comes the bride” — and a handful of dandelions sealed the marriage deal. Of course, the highlight was the slobbery doggie kiss, given by Chocolate Chips, the honorary groom.
And then, there were the real weddings I attended as a young girl. My dad was the minister of our tiny little congregation — and I loved when he officiated weddings with my mom accompanying him on the piano. They made the perfect duo, while I watched with rapt attention from the front row — with strict instructions to SIT STILL and BE GOOD. And I did! (While I mentally took notes…)
And then as of late, I’ve experienced my siblings and friends’ weddings! I’ve been a bride’s maid on numerous occasions — my closet full of fluffy dresses proves it.
But today? Today is MY day.
I know a bachelorette party is traditional, but I decided that wasn’t in the cards for me (tradition numero uno shunned!). My desire was to be surrounded by my friends at the wedding and then to ride off into the sunset with my guy.
And the night before? I wanted the simple comfort of my childhood home…
I wanted to spend the night before my wedding in my childhood bed, surrounded by my childhood memorabilia. I wanted to wake up with an eyeful of my high school plaques and senior pictures framed between my pom poms from dance team. It made me smile and sigh and wake with such comfort that I had to hug my pillow just to savor the moment.
Downstairs the smell of toast and scrambled eggs with bacon greeted me. I was on childhood memory sensory overload.
My mom was in an apron with pre-wedding rollers in her hair. Her smile was warm and real and unwavering through thick and thin — but today was a day for easy smiling.
Across town was my fiancé. My thoughts of him were ones of disbelief. How did I ever find such a cool guy? Such a sweet, hard-working guy? A guy who shared my values and my faith?
A guy who was soon to be officially off the market and smiling down at me, his wife!
Yep. Here he was — across town. But his “to do” list was currently not relevant. His tuxedo was still in the shop waiting to be picked up. His face was unshaven. His groomsmen were unchaperoned. With the elevator out of commission he was sunk. He was at the mercy of fate or luck or maybe even God, but his foggy, caffeine-deprived brain couldn’t wrap itself around a solution.
And so he waited…
With a laid back, throw-back morning at my childhood home, I was feeling relaxed and satisfied and anxious for the day to proceed. I reached for my phone to send my guy a good morning, then smiled and put it back in my pocket. We had agreed — no communication today, our one nod to tradition.
We agreed to the old-fashioned tradition of no contact on our big day before the ceremony. Nothing, Nada, zip. Our first glance of each other was going to be in the church with “The Wedding March” as our soundtrack.
There was no room for error, or so I thought. Our plans were solid and polished and a reflection of the two of us.
With “no conversations” agreed upon, my next thoughts skipped ahead to my wedding party, namely my bridesmaids.
My fingers flew over my phone keys, texting while connecting and making solid plans to meet for our hair appointments in one hour. My excitement for all our plans to play out was palpable. I flew through my shower and bag packing — I was sporting my glittery “bride” tank top, kissing my mom and heading out the door in record time.
The trapped groom had nodded off but awoke with a start.
“What? Where am I?” he thought.
His shoulders slumped as reality crashed in, as desperation settled over him like a thick fog.
He was stuck in an elevator.
Yet a thrill of expectation and anticipation washed over him when he thought of marrying the love of his life today. She was his everything. He couldn’t believe she’d said yes! He knew this day was important to her, but honestly, he just wanted the marriage that followed the HOOPLA — this thought immediately followed by chagrin at thinking it, knowing how important the ceremony and reception was to HER.
And the wait stretched on while, across town, I was oblivious…
Who wants more? I could go on… I have a few twists and turns up my sleeve…
Would you like more of this fictional tale? Keep reading…
