The Big Day

Jack had always thought that a wedding should be special. It didn’t need to be glamorous, but at least something meaningful to the couple involved.

He imagined that his friends would marry later than most, gathering in childhood haunts or pleasant natural environments for the important life milestone. Close family and friends would be in attendance.

So, when Jack’s best friend first told him that he would be getting married at Lake Tahoe, the young man was largely unsurprised. The timing was earlier than Jack had predicted — both he and Richard were in their late 20’s — but the circumstances otherwise aligned with his expectations.

Then came the details.

★  ★ ★  ★

A grilled chicken sandwich should not be this greasy. The thought kept oozing through Jack’s mind like the thick chicken grease running down his hands.

The young man was seated near the window inside a small diner, squeezing a sandwich and looking like a messy man-baby in a light green blazer. His trim, reddish-blonde beard was dotted with flecks of chicken grease.

Had the cook soaked the chicken in lard before they grilled it? Perhaps dunked the finished product in a vat of oil?

Jack was jolted from this reverie by his vibrating phone. Someone was calling him.

Glancing around, Jack saw that the table beside his had cloth napkins folded around silverware. He set down the remnants of the sandwich and stretched over to smear his oily digits on the napkin. With a few fingers clean, he inched his phone from his pants pocket.

“Hey, what’s up man?,” Jack said to the voice on the phone.

“Hey, uh… Not much,” replied Richard.

Jack waited for his best friend to elaborate.

“So, there might be a little bit of an issue with the certification,” Richard said.

“Like what?” asked Jack.

“Well, they can’t actually marry us,” Richard said.

Jack sat for a moment in disbelief.

He had been surprised when Richard had revealed that he would be eloping, bringing only a single guest for a secret wedding. The bare bones, minimally-planned experience — which centered on getting married at the county clerk’s office in the small rural town of Minden, Nevada — had left him further bewildered.

Richard had always been a no-frills guy, but this was on a different level.

Nevertheless, Jack had been honored to be his best friend’s only invitee. He had requested leave on short notice — not an easy ask for a reporter at a small publication — bought a last-minute flight and booked a bed in a cheap hostel.

As soon as his flight had landed, Jack had jumped in his budget rental car and driven straight to Minden. He had arrived before Richard and Richard’s partner Peter, giving Jack time to grab a quick lunch at a nearby diner.

Now it appeared that even less planning had gone into this occasion than Jack had imagined. Richard had not checked the process for completing the marriage, assuming that simply registering with the local county clerk’s office would be enough. In truth, the process required a third-party marriage officiant, which Richard would need to locate and book on very short notice.

Jack had less than 36 hours in Nevada. If they could not book someone in that time frame, the whole trip would be a waste. More importantly, he would miss his best friend’s wedding. It was late in the day and many places in the small town already looked on the verge of shutting down.

“Just think of it like an assignment for the State Department,” Richard said in a desperate, slightly manic voice.

The two friends had recently made ultimately unsuccessful bids to become diplomats with the U.S. Department of State. The suggestion that throwing together a slapdash marriage was the equivalent of a patriotic mission made Jack let out an involuntary laugh.

“Also, don’t tell Peter,” Richard added. “I don’t want him to get worried.”

His face now stuck in an astonished grin, Jack confirmed that he would try his best.

The young man began calling every marriage officiant that had some semblance of legitimacy within a 40-mile radius. He was leaving his fifth voicemail when Richard called back.

“OK, I think I’ve got someone,” Richard said. “He’s going to meet us at the Hard Rock Hotel in Tahoe.”

“He’s going to marry you in the hotel?” asked Jack.

“No, he’s uh… gonna do it in the parking lot,” Richard said.

Jack had to suppress another bout of involuntary laughter. A quip about how romantic this arrangement had become flitted through his mind, but he realized this was likely not the right time or place.

After confirming the address and timing, Jack headed back to where his car was parked at the county clerk’s office. He spotted Richard and Peter in matching blue suits and greeted both with an embrace. Richard’s unshaven face was plastered with a nervous smile. Peter appeared both exasperated and unsurprised.

The group exchanged a few pleasantries, interspersed with Richard’s strained laughter. They were joined shortly by Peter’s guest and fellow Frenchman, Nicholas.

Richard made several attempts to frame the experience to the group in a positive light. His partner had the air of a parent whose adorable infant had just pissed all over them for the third time that day.

“You are really lucky I love you so much,” Peter said with a thin, mirthless smile.

With time running short, the small party parted ways, got in their vehicles and began the drive to Tahoe. Farmland became foothills, which in turn became winding mountain roads. The group made good time and pulled into the Hard Rock Hotel just ahead of their scheduled appointment.

The wedding-goers — if they could be called that — parked and congregated around Peter’s SUV. Richard was in good spirits, evidently confident that it would be smooth sailing from here on. He and Jack fell into idle conversation near the trunk, while Peter and Nicholas chatted inside the vehicle.

Time stretched on and their appointment window passed. The smoldering August sun beat down on the group through the thin mountain atmosphere. Everyone — especially Richard — began to sweat through their suits.

Peter leaned out of the open door and raised his voice to reach Richard.

“Where the hell is this guy?”

“I don’t know,” replied Richard. “I’ll call and check.”

Richard stepped away from the group for a short phone conversation. He returned with the news that the officiant had allegedly been delayed by a medical appointment.

Peter raised his eyebrows and responded flatly, “You’re kidding me.”

“He said he’s on his way now, should be here soon,” offered Richard, nervous strain creeping back into his voice.

The group continued to wait. Richard’s suit became increasingly sweat-soaked and the hot air began to grow tense. Cigarette fumes wafted over from a group of sleazy looking partiers several cars down.

“What if he doesn’t even get out of his car?” Jack asked Richard with an impish smirk.

“You mean like just reach his hand out the window to sign the certificate and then drive off?” replied Richard with a grin.

“Yeah.”

The pair burst out laughing as they elaborated on the idea of a drive-by wedding.

After what seemed like an eternity, Richard spotted the officiant’s vehicle entering the parking lot. It was a beat-up red truck, driven by a man who looked homeless. Richard flagged the man down and stepped out to meet him.

“You Richard?” the man asked with a thick country accent.

“Yep. You’re Randy, right?”

“Yeah… So do ya wanna do this here? Or should we go to the back of the lot?”

Richard glanced back to the group for guidance. Seeing only blank stares and shrugs, he replied, “Uh… sure. Let’s go to the back.”

The party went back to their respective vehicles and regrouped near the far end of the parking lot. As he approached the officiant’s now-parked truck, Jack noted that the sun-bleached paint was peeling in several places. The seats were covered in some kind of imitation sheepskin, stained brownish-yellow and matted with accumulated grime.

Randy-the-officiant appeared to be in his late 50’s, with a dirty button-up Hawaiian shirt and Oakleys resting on top of his head. He had 5 o’clock shadow and a stringy mat of hair that looked like it desperately needed a wash.

The rest of the party was gathered around the passenger door of Randy’s truck. As the officiant started on the paperwork, Richard broke off from the group and walked over to Jack.

“So… he’s uh… not getting out of the truck.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah.”

The two looked at each other for a split second before they nearly doubled over in another bout of laughter. A subsequent series of jokes was cut short when Peter called Richard back to the truck for the ‘ceremony.’ The betrothed couple lined up side-by-side next to the vehicle.

“Richard, do you take Peter for your husband?” Randy called out from inside the truck.

“I do,” Richard replied.

“And Richard, do you take Peter for your husband?” Randy said, now looking at Peter.

There was a moment of silence. Jack saw Nicholas grimacing out of the corner of his eye.

“Excuse me?” said Peter. “I’m Peter, that’s Richard.”

“Oh, right,” replied Randy, seemingly put off that his clients were fussing over such minor details.

Randy repeated the lines, completing the 10-second ceremony without a further hitch. Richard and Peter signed the paperwork and sealed their lifelong commitment on the hood of Randy’s truck.

With the legal formalities safely wrapped up, the mood of the group lifted precipitously. Even Peter and Nicholas were now chuckling at the situation. Jack approached Richard and slapped him on the back.

“Congrats man.”

“Thanks,” Richard said. “I’m so relieved that all came together. Thanks for— ”

A loud popping sound cut into their conversation.

“What the fuck was that?!” Randy yelled as he leaned out of his window.

“Looks like you backed up over a bottle,” Richard yelled back.

“Oh,” replied Randy, muttering something unintelligible as he resumed pulling out.

Richard and Jack started laughing again as they watched the beat-up red truck recede out of sight behind a row of cars.

“Hey,” Jack said, “at least it will make a good story.”