Of Weddings and Dancing Like Michael Jackson

It’s rare these days you witness something different on the way weddings are celebrated. Even if you are to attend those two-day nuptials in the province – like what I experienced not only once before – there’s nothing really new.

Anyway, weddings are always splashed in white, and even though the trend these days are multi-colored in motif, the dominant theme is always white – I never really dwelled much on the subject, but it always remains the same, my guess is it’s tradition.

I attended the wedding of a cousin the other day, it was simple, traditional, but hardly the same as the usual. I really don’t know if it has become a trend of sorts but I found it a little more unique. I guess the main theme was happiness, save for the traditional rites in the church where it was held, because at the reception it was very different.

The bridesmaids and the other secondary sponsors were all in a dash to the area where the newly married couple (bagong sakal) received the guests at the start of the program after a cue from the emcees. It was as though they were all happy for the whole thing (I mean both of them getting married already), not that I’m saying they weren’t at all.

Getting married, it’s the dream of lovers all over the world. I guess a lot of people like the idea of finally settling down, and that stuff. I got married once, but I’m not saying I liked it, but you know, well, things aren’t meant to be. God has a reason for everything.

I forgot all the details of the wedding of my cousin, but it was something so different from the other wedding celebrations I had attended in the past. A few beers later, were all lured to 80’s music on the dance floor, all of us cousins who were kids in that forgotten era. Not that I despise 80’s music already, but I seem to have graduated from it, heck, I have already graduated from 90’s music too – a long time ago. But that Joe Boxer one-hit wonder drove everyone crazy.

If I ever get married again I’d like it to be unique, like inside a huge cave or atop a mountain peak – or a hill, just to be safer.

Many beers even later, we were all dancing ala Michael Jackson already. I never knew Reggie could do that Beat It thing, and I should've invited Migs there. Ah, forget Jonas. After he stole my African love birds Heckle and Jeckle (including cage), I do not want to associate myself with that grease guy anymore. After all the Tanduays I bought him, all the cigarettes and sashimi, to hell with that bum.

I kinda miss Michael. I have always loved P.Y.T. and Off The Wall and that disco song of his my older brother told me Quincy Jones almost sued Dolphy and the rest of the John ‘n Marsha 80’s sitcom production.

And many, many beers later, I was home. In the morning I forgot how the hell I drove home. All I remember was joining the others in a chorus of Cheers!, Kampai!, Kempeitai! One for the Road, Okay Ngarud, and Peste Ngarud.

I don’t even know if that happened or not. Darn that, next time I should really insist the host in ordering oysters for pulutan, like that trip in Iloilo where I downed at least thirty bottles and didn’t even get drunk. Of course I almost died the next morning.