The Aerie
I was summoned at the last minute to photograph the wedding of my
friend, Cidney to her partner, Cindy. Yes, this couple is actually a
couple so-named, and the only reason Cidney isn't Cindy too is that
she started going by the name Cidney when she came out years ago.
I was driving through the night-emptly streets of the Minneapolis
Warehouse District when the call came, and soon arrived at Cid's
apartment (Cid has never had a downtown Minneapolis apartment). A
small crowd was already in place in the small apartment, mostly seated
in overstuffed white sofas.
The floors were shininy black stone, the walls were white. The coffee
table and the dining table were a gray semitransparent glass with
brass legs. Small halogen lights glared from recessed ceiling cans,
small track-lighting spots, and the brightest shone through a gray
semitransparent umbrella shade suspended by a thin brass chain over
the dining room table, which was loaded with fancy hors d'oevres. (The
last time that I saw Cid and Cindy, at their housewarming party, Cindy
spent most of the evening occupied with the creation and arrangement
of fancy snacks.)
Cid was herself too busy to greet me, being intent upon the
last-minute arrangement of the hors d'oevres, which occupied her most
of the time.
I divided my attention between the two rooms of the apartment. The
crowded white living room featured a square of white leather
loveseats, the kind so large and cubical and soft that each person
resides so deep within these great marshmallows that rising or even
leaning forward is impossible. All were arranged in an inward-facing
square around a low glass kidney-shaped coffee table upon a white
angora-shag rung.
Among the guests were two couples: the parents of the marriage
partners. Each couple was, absurdly, dressed as chess pieces from
'Alice in Wonderland': Cid's parents as a pair of black and white
chess pawns, and Cidney's parents as a rook and a bishop. Both couples
were quiet and elderly, and attempting to maintain as much dignity as
they could while being the only persons in costume at this small,
crowded event.
My friend Clark was there as well, which was odd since I don't believe
he knows Cid. He greeted me from the depths of one of the overstuffed
white arm-chairs, a watery drink in his left hand and a damp-ringed
cocktail napkin across his knee. He told me all about his new job with
CNT, a trucking company, and gave me his card (Clark actually remains
firmly entrenched at Well Fargo as far as I know.) But when I asked
the chances of Clark getting my consulting company into CNT, he simply
said "None," with the dismissive shake of his head which indicated
that his boss was entirely prejudiced against outside consultants.
"So your boss is the kind of guy who thinks he knows it all?" I asked,
trying to angle a photo that wouldn't make him look ridiculous in his
armchair.
"Let's just say that he thinks the computer is the only one who does
any work," he replied with a snort. In a nearby couch, a black woman I
didn't recognize laughed as if his remark was hilarious.
Then a cowled priest arrived and positioned himself standing amid the
white couches. Cid was still hurriedly tending to everything (even
though nothing seemed to need doing in particular) while her guests
sat: topping off drinks, rushing over to the (unoccupied) hors
d'oevre's table, rushing into another room, etc.
She was dressed merely in black pants, a white silk shirt, and a black
vest with colorful embroidery. As the priest read the marriage vows,
Cid would run in to stand briefly before him and answer, then rush off
again. When he got to Cindy's parts, Cid would rush up in an oversized
white wedding dress (Cindy stands head and shoulders above Cid, being
about six-foot-two) and answer for Cindy, who was off at work and
couldn't attend.
In this manner and all the while tending to the food, Cid managed to
marry herself.
All through this experience I was experiencing a certain mild umbrage:
I knew that the only reason that I was present was because Cid knew
that I had a fancy Olympus C-2100 digital camera, and that at the last
minute she had realized that she had no photographer. That my friend
Clark was present was additionally annoying, as I wasn't aware that
they knew one another. And I felt pity for the parents of the
partners, who seemed to know no one, and who struggled to maintain
their dignity in the odd, bulky, and somewhat insulting outfits that
they had been asked to wear.
And then I woke up...
[1]Last
Posted by Albatross at April 6, 2003 12:00 AM