Here Come the Grooms

My housemate's friend invited him to a men's wedding celebration. "Bring anyone," he told Danny. "Even women?" I asked. "Even women," Danny replied.

 

So Danny, Hannah, and I set out for the old city a little before 9:00 PM. When we arrived at the site of the street celebration, Danny's friend was nowhere to be found. He does this regularly--invites Danny somewhere (often to another friend's house), then doesn't show up. Danny called, and his friend assured him that he was on his way. We watched the celebration from the street, though it was hard to see through the crowds.

 

Then the crowd began flowing down the street, the grooms stepping along slowly, and we followed. (The grooms were brothers; it was a double wedding.) We soon realized that they were entering a wedding hall. We knew that it was okay for women to be a the street celebration, but we weren't so sure about this. But the men were motioning for us to go up, so the three of us plunged ahead, up the stairs.

 

As we climbed the stairs, I got separated from Danny and Hannah. Uh oh. But one man realized my predicament and made way for me to proceed and catch up with Danny and Hannah. Kindness lives. We walked all the way down a long row of men sitting on low couches, stepping around shoes and water bottles and piles of q. I thought I was going to lose my balance at one point and lurch into the row of men, but thankfully I didn't. The place was packed, Twister-tight. I mean, I couldn't stretch out my legs without putting them on top of another man's. In a culture where it's not even normal for women to sit on a seat next to a man, this was . . . awkward. I pulled my legs as close to me as I could and hoped they wouldn't cramp.

 

Once we were seated, I could survey the room. I estimated 300-400 men in close quarters, smoking, chewing q., and staring at us. They stared a little less after we had been there for a while. Just as I was going to ask Danny where his friend was, I realized that the guy sitting in front of us was his friend. I'm still not sure when he joined us.

 

The place was too packed for the dancing I had hoped to see, but it was an interesting study in people. I prayed for my lungs as I watched. Two European ladies had also been sucked into the action (we don't think they knew anyone there), and they were ushered to the dais where the grooms were sitting to sit with them for half an hour or so. Yikes! I'm glad they didn't make us do that! The man next to me did motion toward the grooms at one point, and I realized that they wanted to wave at us. What's one to do but oblige?!

 

Danny's friend explained that many would stay until 4:00 in the morning. Men were bringing out q. in big bunches, surely enough to keep everyone alert for hours. Not feeling inclined to stay the night (and unaided by q.), we left a bit after 11:00. Walking out was like running the gauntlet again. Oops, trying to avoid your sandals, buddy. Will I be blacklisted if I step on your pile of q?  You don't seem to care. Is it shameful to grab a man's hand if I'm about to trip? If I trip on this massive speaker and knock it over into this crowd of men, it will be worse than the guy who threw up in front of everyone at the counseling seminar.  

 

We made it out into the clean air and made it home safe. Another something that's definitely worth doing once.