The spell of alcohol is a strong one, clouding judgement, and veiling memory. In the mists of transcribing a glorious day, and cherished memory, a lot was missed. i strongly recommend reading: Nicaraguan Drag Races for context (and hopefully a few laughs) before continuing. There was a lot more magick that happened that day that i only recounted in the final edits of the story. Our Leap Year turned out a lot more special than i remembered, and yes, there is some astounding irony that i forgot the majority of what happened that night while writing the first part... moving on! Enjoy.
Despite the promise of quiet, the afternoon poured people, and our little hotel was almost at capacity. However, the demands of juggling our new guests failed at distracting Jim and i from our goal. We were destined to have the most memorable Leap Year of our lives- whatever may come our way.
With iron tenacity we used every opportunity presented to pitch our LeapFrog-Drag Racing game. Our fever had spread through the bar. Though more than our unbridled excitement and enthusiasm succeeded in filling our sign up sheet, it sold a reverence for the rare occasion. A curious anomaly, four years worth of spare hours accumulated in a single date that shouldn't exist. An extra day of life, a far better reason to celebrate than most holidays.
Magick coursed through our patrons excited whispers during our dinner service. While in the middle of trying to entice a few more players into our contest, one of our guests dropped his cutlery to his plate with a clatter. All eyes darted to the loud intrusion. The Englishman stood upon his chair, and made loud with his interruption. "Well, if we're going to make this day special, we may as well do it right."
Attention was granted, as his words concurred with the contagious veneration for the rare date. The young man dropped to a knee and clasped his hands over his girlfriend's like a lover's locket. The bar gasped, as sacred words were whispered. His gaze wouldn't waiver. Spontaneity had forfeited a ring. The proposal hung, and i held my breath.
She answered with a paramount kiss. On the heels of her yes a jubilant cheer filled what had been a suffocating vacuum of silence. When their lips parted he looked to Jim and i, and asked if we could arrange everything for night. The entirety of the bar answered before we could.
Offers of help from strangers showered like confetti amongst their congratulations. Jim and i shared a smug smile. Each of us had been ordained online years ago for other weddings. Our fists raised to settle the honour with Rock, Paper, Scissors. It took a second of eye contact before our palms flattened in unison, and we shook on an unspoken agreement. We'd both do the ceremony.
After a quick huddle Jim and i climbed a-top the bar, brought a hush down, and unfolded the plan for the evening to our guests. Working backwards it only seemed appropriate for the wedding to happen at 11:11pm, February 29th. Already a dreamy location, the views from our yoga deck were perfect to host the ceremony. We'd still need a bit of help for both the bride and groom. Hands went up and volunteers came in abundance. We had every lined up in moments. There were two hours to scrape together what we could. From there we would reconvene at the Drag races, in our appropriate attire *(see story) for a joint bachelor and bachelorette party. Races first, dancing after. An hour before midnight we'd shift venues to the top of the treehouse for the ceremony, and back to the bar for a rowdy, drunken reception. In the midst of our deliberation one of our more artistically inclined guest's circulated hilarious handwritten invitations with our evening mapped. Jim shrugged and laughed, we were on a roll.
With the ceremony looming only hours away there was no time to waste. The rest of the dinner service transformed into an engagement party. A few of us set the tone for the wedding with a couple silly heartfelt toasts to the sweet strangers. While plates were finished a few more action oriented guests dispersed to decorate the treehouse, others to sort out the bridal party. Jim and i huddled and made a rough outline for how we wanted to conduct our service. By the time we'd finished we were summoned by the self appointed maid of honour. A motley crue bridal party had organized faster than Jim and i could ever hope too. Everyone gravitated to their skillset. Make up, decorating the venue, selecting the outfits. This woman, who only had met the bride after the engagement, began tasking me to collect their list of supplies. Together, with a few more of the bridesmaids, we went on a hunt. First we raided whatever arts and crafts we had available. Tape, scissors, markers, anything we could use to create. Some ran to collect makeup, and blow dryers. Others forged the property for local tropical flowers. i took a few to pillage the hotel's laundry room, where we collected sheets to pin together into makeshift dresses.
With everything in motion i returned a far emptier bar. Jim and the boys had surrounded the young man in corner, the beginning of his bachelor party had begun. Toasts, drinks, and vulnerable storytelling rang to the rafters. A sweet, and humorous, heart to heart of lost romances, regrets, and advice. While it was touching to see, it wasn't at all helpful with our impeding itinerary. The clock kept me from diving in, and with as much manners as i could muster, i recruited a few helping hands to aid with some heavy lifting. We went about setting the stage for our first event. Both Jim and i grateful to share some the labour of shifting the hefty furniture around the space, a task we'd been dreading all day. Our races set, costumes chosen, and Jim in his referee outfit, we did a final inspection, then returned to the circle. We had enough time for a single, completely unnecessary in retrospect, drink before i went about rallying everyone back to the bar for our nine pm race time.
Madness pulsated from the moment the first countdown finished.1 Rampant intoxication, and booming laughter stitched a tapestry of hilarity. From leapfrog to dancing, the night cooked. Forty-five minutes before the ceremony the bridal party slipped away for their final preparations. Jim and i went over how we wanted to conduct our ceremony one last time before i snuck off to tune my guitar for our musician. Last call happened twenty minutes prior to the service and we locked the bar down. Drinks in hand, everyone sober enough to move shuffled upwards to the look out. i helped fit Jim with his ceremonial robes and slipped on my patented banana suit and we climbed up behind the stragglers.
Stepping upstairs was breathtaking. So much work had been done in so little time, our yoga deck had been completely transformed. Even though i had been intricate in the planning and delegation, i was still stunned by the talent and care that had happened behind the scenes. Floral arrangements, paper streamers, a makeshift altar. Every guest dressed in the best that they could scrounge from their backpacks or remaining in their elegant attire from the drag races. Despite how inebriated everyone was, they sat quiet, and respectful on the smooth wooden floor. Everything was set. In the corner, an incredible, now quite successful French Canadian musician strummed on my guitar.2 Serene and gentle, she sang graceful soul renditions of pop punk classics. Her cadence, and timbre transformed Green Day's Good Riddance into a romantic serenade. Transfixing our congregation into a swooning audience.
On our tiptoes Jim and i navigated ourselves to the altar over those seated. Arms over shoulders we embraced as we surveyed the wedding from our vantage point. The groom and his "best man" swayed beside us, using each other as support, as the song poured over the space. We clinked our glasses in a silent toast to ourselves. This was something special. Something beautiful. This was a leap year that would have been devastating to skip. As ridiculous, and playful as the evening had been, i saw many wipe their eyes as the bridesmaids filed in. Prompt, at 11:11pm, during the chorus of "i miss you," by Blink 182.
A hush fell as the final chord sang out, and our ceremony began under the starlight. i don't remember the words but i remember the thick, romantic feeling under that thatched roof. All eyes tuned in, for a ritual so natural, so intricate to each human, it transcended the fact that we were strangers from all corners of the globe. Heartfelt and hilarious, Jim and i did our best not to talk over each other while espousing stanzas of love, and commitment, though often failed. Each encouraged by the other's words, and impatient to proclaim our own. The bride's shaking, tear stained vows, were resplendent. Her intoxicated buffoon of a groom responded with the most idiotic, incoherent, long winded speech i've ever heard. Yet, in perhaps the truest example of love that entire enchanting evening, she accepted him as her husband. A ring made of braided flower petals and vines was received, and the marriage sealed, with a deep, passionate kiss. It was beautiful.
While i anticipated the laughter, and cheers, the amount of sweet tears shed blindsided me. As tender as the night had been that didn't stop some of the more obliterated attendees from passing out cold during the service. The warm reception began in the bar, and i returned only after fireman carrying guests safely to their rooms. After a final drink, or two, i turned in for a sweet, drunken sleep. Satisfied that a new bar had been set for the best leap year of all time.
Thanks for Reading!
-Mr. Write
If you have read the first story Nicaraguan Drag Races , now would be the time
You can hear her music, as well as a quick version of this story on Iridescent FM- Episode 36: Pardon Me only on Spotify.