Nash Says “I Do”
Last Saturday, I attended the long awaited hitching ceremony of my close friend, Nash. Nash and I go way back. (Ok, ok, so I’ve only known him for a couple of years. But in this high paced world, two years ought to count for something. A lot happens in two years. Governments collapse, companies fold up, engineers sleep through MBA, evidence on murders disappear…The value of time has increased over the years. A sort of ‘time value inflation’. As with everything, I blame Microsoft.)
For those who came in late, Nash was my senior back in college. One year ahead of me. He had slept through Macro-economics long before I bungled my first SWOT. We were roomies for over a year before he got wise and fumigated me out, discarding me like last year’s losing lottery ticket. We’d had our share of fun, though. I’ve broken every string on his guitar, invaded his office demanding for his set of keys to the house, made fun of the low flying storm clouds he’d create every time he applies perfume, and woken him up in the middle of the night just to hear me say “Welcome to the Hotel California”
Yes, siree… Fond, memorable, made-up memories like these pepper our friendship with enough ammunition to keep him sneezing for a long time to come. On top of all these, he is also THE guy my folks will hunt and kill if my vacations from sobriety gets any worse. He is the chap responsible for turning me into a raving drunkard (probably an exaggerated version of the truth, built upon my stable philosophy: “When caught drunk, blame Nash”) But he DID introduce me into the world of booze; A world where giddiness is an asset; where people’s expectations from you are lowered; at best they hope that you don’t misspell the obscenities you may tattoo on your back; a world where you find amusement in anything and everything. You don’t need a high octane action thriller to amuse yourself anymore. The cow takes a crap? Grab a chair, take some popcorn, and open the beer cans. You have entertainment.
Anyway, let’s get back to Saturday. It was a beautiful event, the bride in white, flower girls, co-ordinated processions, the whole shebang. Classic Hollywood style; just not as much bloodshed. On most events, I get specific instructions to lie low, keep quiet, and try to remain seated far away, sometimes as far as in another state. But on this event, I was actually given additional responsibilities. I was the photographer AND the DJ for the event.
But I have to admit that it wasn’t as catchy a job as it sounds. My photography ‘skills’ revolved around the fact that I recently spent everything I had (plus some more) on a Nikon D50 camera. After ascertaining that I did NOT do this under the influence, many people surmised that I must be a great photographer. However, there WERE professional photographers at the scene, so my role as a photographer was merely supplementary.
My role as a DJ, however, was more channelized. I needed to co-ordinate the music for when the groom walked in, change the music at the appropriate time so that the bride can walk in to the classic tune “Here Comes the Bride”, a piece of music so old that it might have been played by the Rolling Stones, an inspiring, ancient band which has been around for 3 or 4 centuries.
When I said ‘I change the music’, I might have exaggerated a little bit. Actually there was a competent co-ordinator who would change the music. All I had to do was gesture to him, through complicated hand singals, the exact moment when to change to the next track on the disk. My role was more of a Disk Joker than a Disk Jockey. You might, at this point, be contemplating that a trained orangutan could have done this task as well as I did. But then, my dear friend, you have never tried hiring a trained orangutan in December. It is not as easy as one might think. You have to book several months in advance.
But in spite of my enhanced role in the proceedings, the ceremony went off well. The weather was great, and that always ensures a good start. On the other hand, Nash probably wouldn’t have noticed if bolts of lightning and acid rain fell directly on his head. Throughout the ceremony, he sported a grin goofier than anything I could ever have imagined. If Walt Disney had seen him there, he’d have immediately signed him on in “Snow White: The Movie”, and cancelled future auditions for the role of “Dopey”.
But the bride, Michelle, was kind of high herself, evident from the fact that even though she had seen the dopey grin through the ceremony, she did not even flinch when she said “I do”. I nurtured the theory that maybe she didn’t really see the grin, but dismissed it quickly. There’s no way anyone could have missed it. It was probably visible from space. There are probably Russian Astronauts up there who are still rolling around their spaceships laughing about it.
But at the end of the day, it was a spectacular event; quite memorable; very different. And when, in the end, you almost feel like saying “And they lived happily every after”, you realize the event was as cute as any fairy tale…
Although from what I remember from the 1937 classic, Dopey never got Snow White.