At six in the morning the day of our wedding, I put in a call to Marty, the on-site supervisor for the tents going up at Promontory. They were just getting started. Originally, the call was meant to be a go/no-go about if we wanted tents at all. With the forecast for Sunday staying consistent the entire week leading up to the 10th, we’d already decided to go with two. Now I had a different choice: sidewalls or no sidewalls?
Its beautiful, almost seamless integration into its surrounding landscape is what drew us to Promontory Point in the first place. I was excited about the idea of guests being able to walk back and forth from building to grass, and then out to the shoreline to take in the downtown skyline. Sealing that experience off by putting up sidewalls seemed downright antithetical to the spirit of our wedding. Yet, wet suits and shivering bodies seemed worse, so as I stared at a steady line of clouds on the weather.com forecast, I begrudgingly told Marty to go with the walls.
When I arrived on site three hours later, I was happy to find out the walls were entirely clear, from top to bottom. I was also happy to encounter much bluster and lake mist as I walked around the building; it made me feel better about my decision. As discreet as ten-by-sixty-foot sheets of clear plastic can be, these were relatively unobtrusive. My mood was lifted.
Which is not to say I didn’t try to justify their removal. Sarah will tell you that several times throughout the party, I suggested it was time to let the walls go. I’d reason that the wind had let up and the temperature risen enough. What she’d remind me, every time, is that I was wearing a suit, and she, like many women there, were bare-shouldered. So they’ll warm up by dancing more, I reasoned. Win-win!
Needless to say I lost that argument. Of course, no one other than me gave a whit about the walls being up. The guests who wanted to stroll in the park found their way out there. Not a few people reminded me that rain on your wedding day is auspicious. I know this maxim was invented to cheer up couples beset by the vagaries of nature, but it was still nice to hear. (Even more auspicious in my mind is the fact that we get along awesomely and love each other to death, but I guess the weather thing can’t hurt.)
Even given all the headaches about the tents, they were very much worth it. However, there is one niggling point. Two weeks before our wedding, in a comment about Sarah’s mission to get the tent permits, I wrote this:
If nobody from the city comes by on September 10 to check for the proper documentation, I’m sending a limestone brick, wrapped in two tent permits, through a second floor window of City Hall.
Time to hunt for some twine.