I love weddings. I’m a wog, so it’s kind of part of my DNA.
It all started when a crown of white roses was secured to my head of ringlets at age three when I was a flower girl at my aunty’s wedding; it’s worth noting this was about six hours before I was sprawled across the dance floor chucking a tantrum because no man would dance with me. BUT THAT’S A STORY FOR ANOTHER DAY.
Anyways, imagine my delight when someone from Channel Nine called me to invite me to my very first Married At First Sight wedding. The conversation went a little something like this…
Nine: Hey Karina, We’re calling to see if you’d like to come along and witness one of the weddings for this season’s MAFS.
Me: STFU!
Nine: The bride is a lovely Lebanese woman and the groom is a total sweetheart – he’s a trucker from Queensland.
Me: STFU! STFUUUUUU!!!!!!!
Nine: Anyway, it’s going to be a full on production with the Lebanese drummers, so it should be a lot of fun. We’ll send you an invite now!
After a week of bragging, prancing and minimal work (anticipation and excitement was peak), the day finally arrived and myself with a gaggle of equally excited media types were headed to a quaint little church in Sydney’s inner west suburb of Haberfield.
We snuck in the furthest back row (on the bride’s side – natch!), and scanned the crowd. This was going to be interesting.
The bride’s side was a cocktail of cultures, who were murmuring amongst each other while stealing glances at the groom’s side as two cameras – one at the back and another at the front – panned the room.
The bride’s side was also completely full. On the flipside, the groom’s side was noticeably smaller – and louder! – laughing as they waited for something to happen.
Then Simon walked in with his curly hair, goofy grin and relaxed strut. It was exactly at this point that almost every person on the bride’s side huddled into the person next to each other and started whispering. They didn’t look convinced.
He was standing at the altar solo for probably about 10 minutes before the bridesmaids made their entrance. And let me tell you, you wouldn’t know it if you weren’t told that they were coming because there is no music. NONE. No Canon In D, no A Thousand Years, not even a snippet of Here Comes The Bride. They walked fast, too.
It was about this time that it all clicked – duh, if they have music on they’re not going to capture the conversations and comments made by the guests.
In walked Alene on the arm of her father; she was slower than the bridesmaids, but there was still no music. We were hoping for tears or something dramatic to happen, but the ceremony flew by incredibly fast and without breakdowns. Damn.
After they kissed and walked down the aisle, the celebrant started making a speech. Ummm… didn’t we just hear this? We were all told to sit down, they were going to do it again. Simon walked in. The bridesmaids walked in. Alene walked in. They shared their second-first kiss and walked back down the aisle again.
Turns out, they needed more angles and more footage of guests. I fixed my hair. JUST IN CASE!
The reception was at Le Montage in Leichhardt. The room was teeeeensy – seven tables in total, with Simon’s family occupying only two. We were instructed when Alene and Simon made their entrance to get up and dance – they were following Lebanese tradition with the drums and flames.
This is probably the point where we give our mate Simon, or Simmo as he’s affectionately called, a good old slow clap. His dancing produced maybe more than a few giggles, but he gave it a good shot! For someone who’d apparently never seen a Lebanese wedding before, he went with it. At times he looked a little more Irish than Lebanese, but he’d already won our hearts, so we were pretty forgiving.
Once the dancing stopped and we sat down for a meal, we were met with that silence again. We heard every clink as cutlery scraped on plates and at times it was completely unnerving and kind of spooky.
The silence was broken, however, when a pal of Simon’s wearing a leather bow tie hit up our table to introduce himself and tell us he reckons Simon’s infatuated with Alene.
“Really?” We asked with scepticism.
We didn’t see it, and pointed at the bridal table where Alene and Simon had their backs to each other talking to their own parties.
“I know Simmo! He’s so into it,” he convinced us. We trusted him and his leather bow tie.
Not even five minutes later, a shriek followed by cackles came from the bathroom. A guest ran back to our table laughing.
“Alene just dropped her ring in the toilet and her bridesmaid is saying it’s a bad sign!” No-one could go to the bathroom for a good 10 minutes after that. The camera crew were occupying the cubicles trying to get footage of the sunken ring.
We were given another 15 minutes of music, when Alene’s friends grabbed our hands and invited us up to dance with them.
As we walked out we saw a Ferrari pull up and fellow stripper groom Michael walk past us confidently with two suited-up fellas chasing his shadow… Out in the carpark was a pink stretch hummer and Scarlett with her tiara was slowly making her way in.
Damn – we missed the good wedding.
