It shouldn't come as a surprise that at an Irish wedding, I went down like a sack of potatoes. Not five minutes after helping out a bridesmaid who had drank herself into circular thinking and walking, I was on the ground outside the Women's Cultural Center in Montclair having missed a step. With my legs sprawled out and in my new shirt and nearly taking out Felicia in the process.
Open bar is a dangerous thing.
I didn't dance nearly enough at the Balvanera nuptials. Lacking a willing partner and my own rusty swing and samba partnering skills were my achilles heel. The bride and groom, however, having first met in a ballroom class got their swing on to a little Zoot Suit Riot. Not to mention that the first dance was Somersault by Zero 7. There's a reason why I like these people.
The traditional Irish Wedding Blessing hit me in all the right places. It goes...
May your mornings bring joy
and your evenings bring peace.
May your troubles grow few
as your blessings increase.
May the saddest day of your future
Be no worse than the happiest day of your past.
May your hands be forever clasped in friendship
And your hearts joined forever in love.
Your lives are very special,
God has touched you in many ways.
May his blessings rest upon you
And fill all your coming days.
And after 48 hours in San Francisco, having seen about half of my favorite locals, having helped two friends create a new family, and having eaten my face off, again, it's becoming increasingly clear that this place will one day be called home.
]]>