Oli gets Married, Chapter 5

It was only a few minutes’ journey from the last picture spot to the brewery, our place of destination and the place where my sister would tie the knot.

You might be thinking that a brewery is an odd place to get married, and indeed, it sounds just so. This place though, has a certain charm.

For one, you don’t actually have your guests standing near crates of bottles or vats of beer, though I’m sure most wouldn’t complain at the prospect. The way it works is, there factory is in back, there’s a bar through the main doors, and to the right of the bar is the events room.

It’s a beautiful room that Oli and Corey chose for their celebration. Slate floor, dark, rustic wood finishes, and the look and feel of an old train station from days gone by. Better yet, everything smells like cookies made from barley and hops.

Oli’s impeccable taste, combined with a little help from a wedding planner, made the room even more stunning. Dark wooden folding chairs matched the chocolate brown tablecloths with harlequin stitch; white plates and napkins matched the pillar candle on glass rounds, and glass cube vases filled with green freesias. Jazz was on the sound system, and guests filtered in and out between the main room and the bar, waiting for our arrival.

Plan: get married outside on the terrace; dinner, speeches and dancing inside.

The bus dropped us off a small distance away because of the crowds. The brewery is a short distance away from the dome, which was hosting a baseball game that day. Us bridesmaids, that being me, Vicki and Carrie, the sister of the groom, collected our belongings and started the five-minute walk to the brewery.

If you’re wondering what belongings we could have possibly had, you should never be a bridesmaid without an emergency kit, darlings: band aids, perfume, extra makeup and flip flops for later, to say the least. Armed with our totes, our troika of mauve plus two little flower girls led the way.

We walked through those doors, and like Moses, parted the Red Sea of our guests. Just kidding. It was quite the arrival, though, and certainly paved the way for Oli and her groom to grace us with their presence. I didn’t stick around to chat, though, was too busy in the restrooms with Vicki and Carrie, doing our last minute touchups

The next little while was a blur of events: after the restroom we stashed our bags in a cranny in the main reception area; the guests were ushered outside, the priest called me over to pre-sign some wedding contract stuff (to save time, he said), and then we stood obediently in a line, waiting to make our walk down the aisle.

Henry Purcell’s Trumpet Voluntary started to play, and Carrie was the first to go. Then Vicki, and then me.

The knots in my stomach were tightening, big time. What can I say, I don’t like being the centre of attention, especially when it comes to large groups. Even though it wasn’t my wedding day, I could totally relate to Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride when she tells Richard Gere that she wants to get married on a weekday, when everyone is at work.

I took a deep breath, turned around and wished my resplendent sister good luck. Then, clutching my simple bouquet of symbidium orchids, tied with a ribbon that matched my dress, I made my way down the aisle.

It wasn’t straight, rather, it curved around in a U, ending at the altar and the waiting priest. I remember walking and praying that I wouldn’t trip, or that a downpour would start at any moment. It was starting to get really overcast. Blissfully, I made it in one piece with all my dignity intact. Phew.

Last before the bride were the flower girls. Jinny, as it turns out, is much more shy than her 2-year old sister. She blushed deeply and held back when she realized how many people were watching her, while two-year old Joy, huge smile on her face, forged onward, tossing a maelstrom of rose petals in her wake. That got a good crowd giggle.

And then, my sister. Handel’s The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba played, and the crowd got to their feet to watch Oli on her short walk, which she did with grace and style. She also did it with happiness mapped all over her face. I was very thankful she wasn’t crying; she’d worn non-waterproof mascara.

The ceremony was your standard 20-minute schpiel, with its shining moments. Salome did the first reading, and the look on her face was priceless when she was interrupted by an intense foghorn blast from the nearby baseball game. Lacey did the next reading, and brought on the waterworks when her tears started halfway through.

I must admit, I had a few tears of my own. Hey, how often does my sister get married? But that was quickly remedied when Corey said “Trush” instead of “Trust” during his vows.

The rings were exchanged, I signed yet another document with the best man, and the priest announced Oli and Corey, husband and wife. They kissed to Thunderstruck by ACDC, and the audience showed their appreciation with a standing ovation and thunderous applause.

We toasted the newlyweds with glasses of sparkling champagne and pear liqueur that the wait staff was passing around, posed for more rounds of pictures, and walked back up the aisle, partnered with ushers.

My sister was married. Time to party.