So I survived my friend’s wedding, but only barely. Was supposed to be at her place at 7.45 a.m., so I thought I’d take an hour-long nap after finishing up an essay due at work. Oh, I was so happy that I’d finished it that I had a beatific smile on my face as I dozed off.
Next thing I knew, my phone was ringing, and the name blinking away on it was the bride’s — the time being 8 a.m. and the groom scheduled to arrive at her place (which was halfway across Singapore) at 8.30 p.m. If you remember the beginning of Four Weddings and Funeral, well, my reaction was heartfelt and similiar — I swore all the way to the bathroom till I stuck a toothbrush in my mouth.
Somehow, I managed to pull on the bridesmaid dress and slap on some de rigeur face paint before slamming the main door shut 15 minutes later. As I was running towards the jeep, however, the bride called again, and I had to muster up the courage to answer and confess. She was cool as a cucumber, the blessed angel. Amazing composure.
On my desperate dash to her place, only one thing calmed me down — the sudden appearance of a huge rainbow illuminating the stormy sky (in Jurong!). I took it as a reminder of God being with me every hard step of the way, so I could trust that it would all turn out fine. Well, yes, it did — suppressing my shame, I played a part in the wedding after all, when I wasn’t obsessing over sweat stains on the golden satin dress. My singing wasn’t great, just purely functional, but I extended a hand whenever I could spot one needed.
The day was beautifully concluded by the bride, with the most beautiful, funny, emotional, intelligent, grateful and honest wedding dinner speech I’d ever heard. If anyone ever asks me to help out at a wedding again, they must be warned of the various embarrassments and blunders that tend to gather round the author of this blog.
And arrange a wake-up call too.