I have a confession to make. For several years now I have been attending weddings to which I have not been invited.
In an era where bars are thinning out your wallet, clubs have lost their novelty and quality films have become a rarity, I cannot conceive of a more fulfilling alternative to Saturday night entertainment than weddings. These non-exclusive events blend the elegance of a quiet dinner and the raging boisterousness of a dance club, and they cost nothing more than perhaps your integrity. Pick any good-sized, unpretentious banquet hall on a Saturday night and you are sure to stumble upon two things: 1) a wedding reception and 2) an evening of unforgettable entertainment.
Consider the following: invitations need not be shown at the door in order to attend most weddings. You need not know anyone at a wedding in order to enjoy yourself. If you find yourself dancing with the bride, tell her you are a cousin/friend of the groom. If you find yourself dancing with the groom, tell him you are a cousin/friend of the bride.
To give you a better idea about how wedding-crashing works, I would like to reminisce about a steamy summer evening in St. Louis, Mo. when Frank and Lisa came together to rejoice in holy matrimony (for the purposes of this article, I have changed the names of the principals in order to protect the innocent). I know it sounds clich?©d, but this was my first crashing, and I will never forget it.
Dressed like royalty, my date and I hit the interstate on schedule to arrive at a time that wedding connoisseurs would consider appropriately tardy. Unfortunately, a stalled 18-wheeler led to an hour of traffic and our inadvertently insolent arrival. It was post-dinner and we were the last guests to arrive.
To our surprise, it turned out to be perfect timing. By the time we waltzed into the gaudy wedding hall, all of those familiar with the guest list had become inebriated and were losing their sharp vigilance for charlatans. This leads to the primary rule of wedding-crashing: arriving post-dinner is the most strategic principle in not getting caught. This means to not show up before 9 p.m. Most receptions have assigned seating, an obstacle I have not yet figured out how to overcome. In the course of the half dozen or so weddings I've crashed, I have never been caught ... but I can only imagine the humiliation.
On this particular occasion, I noticed an extravagant cake in the corner, and my stomach became a distraction. But we were there to have a social evening, so off we went to schmooze.
Bringing a video camera was my date's idea. I was skeptical, but it turned out that this seemingly ludicrous tactic became our clearance with the invited guests (who from here on I will refer to as IGs). Table by table we gathered short speeches and anecdotes educating us on the newlyweds' past, undeterred by the realization that we'd forgotten the video tape. Nevertheless, we continued our solicitations. I was surprised to learn some outrageously obscure facts, such as that Lisa once bowled a 300 and Frank once owned a peacock named Picnic. Or maybe it was Frank who bowled the 300 and Lisa who owned the peacock. Actually, I think it was an ostrich she owned. Anyway, the IGs were full of invaluable historical essentials.
Later, we subtly made our presence known on the dance floor, socialized with our phony cousins-in-law over a piece of cake, and sent Lisa and Frank off on their honeymoon. It truly was Saturday night mafficking at its finest.
I was apprehensive about dancing within arm's length of the bride, but at some point I found myself in her circle and had no choice but to appear comfortable and invited. Without thinking, I stepped slightly forward into the circle and showed off my trademark move: weight back on one heel, both arms shaking like I'm having a seizure, one in front of me, one behind my back, and my front leg shaking with the rhythm of my arms. A move only the truly frivolous can appreciate.
Before I stepped out of the circle I noticed a change of energy in the room. The bridesmaids' faces had more color, the air was moist with sweat, and the only people not dancing were those who were physically incapable. The women around me wore subtle smiles that said "we're going to dance all night," and the men laughed and cheered as they tried to impress each other with some sort of innovative foot swagger.
And then I had an epiphany. Something powerful had happened on the dance floor. It became obvious that my fresh presence was augmenting the IG's level of enjoyment. I was radiating a profound zest and vigor that only an outsider could generate. Gradually, I had become as vital to the wedding as any of the IGs. Transcending the role of an uninvited guest is the most intense jouissance a wedding crasher can experience.
Upon first glimpse, wedding crashing seems like a dishonest, unethical form of entertainment at the expense of innocent people. In reality, wedding crashing is no such thing. Wedding-crash culture is for the individual who wants to give something back. It is for the selfless person who deeply manifests the desire to give and give more. I am not suggesting that Lisa and Frank, or Sarah and Steven, or Justin and Katharine should thank me for attending their weddings. And I certainly don't expect anything in return.
But as the phenomenon continues to grow across the nation, it is important for the public to comprehend that crashing weddings is not an act of juvenile recklessness. Rather, it should be deemed an act of philanthropy. Certainly, I think of myself a philanthropist, and so should anyone else who partakes in wedding-crash culture. Adding that extra move to the dance floor, providing a new person for the IGs to converse with, and eating the last piece of cake undoubtedly adds an invaluable level of liveliness and energy to the festivities.
For myself, attending weddings started as an outlet from a Saturday night entertainment rut, but now it has become something much more profound and meaningful - an act of community service. Where else can you dance, eat cake, and feel as generous as Mother Teresa? We all know the old saying, "You can't have your cake and eat it too," but finally, the wedding crasher has found an exception to this rule.
Michael Don is a senior majoring in psychology.
