It was 2:18 on a Sunday afternoon and the wedding was set to commence at 2:30 pm. Crap! It would have helped if we’d been a little more familiar with the environs of Poughkeepsie (New York, that is), only we weren’t. So, B kept his eye on the road while I googled every Catholic church in the city. Was it St. Joseph’s? No. Our Lady of Fatima? Uh uh. (Did I mention we’d lost the invitation?)
It’s now 2:22 and I’m shouting “Concentrate! Concentrate!” As if that would help. Then suddenly it comes to him like a merciful vision: “The Church of the Holy Trinity, that’s it!”
We careen into the church parking lot at 2:28 just as the bride’s limo pulls up and she enters the vestibule, so we discretely slip through the side door.
Blessedly, we are not alone in our Four Weddings and a Funeral entrance. Every last member of the New York City posse is behind us, sheepishly sliding into their pews.
The church is crowded. People have come from all over to witness the marriage of this beautiful young couple.
The bride is resplendent in her strapless satin gown. And the groom is pretty handsome himself. Ah, young love.
We think the flower girl is pretty adorable, too, as flower girls usually are.
And later there are toasts and dancing and tables that are named after New York neighborhoods like Bushwick, Red Hook, and Williamsburg, and set with pretty glassware.
And there is a butternut squash soup that’s to die for.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Lord. A more perfect couple there never was.
Smallpeace 