”This is my favorite part of a wedding,” I thought to myself as I leaned back and soaked up the late California sunshine. Not the obvious choice, I know. I took a deep breath and smiled as my brain registered the familiar sweet smell of fresh oranges in the air. After all, we were surrounded by acres and acres of citrus groves. Oranges, lemons, limes. But it was the oranges that I liked the most. well, that and the hand made pizzas baking away in the wood burning ovens out back. I looked over at my assistant for the weekend, his head leaned back, feet resting on the wicker trunk in front of us. Justin had flown in from New York and was marinating in the beautiful west coast weather. This was the part of the wedding where all the guests are eating and we were able to sneak away for a little downtime ourselves and even though it had been a long weekend in general, this was the type of wedding where I felt more like a guest than a vendor.
Dana & Jake had planned a day reminiscent of any other Sunday afternoon spent with close friends and family. A no fuss, no itinerary kind of day where children played on the rope swing above the nearby creek and families gathered in small circles catching up on old times. Not only had Dana & Jake chosen to see each other before the ceremony, they had actually been looking forward to donning vintage aprons and serving their guests from behind the bar. Now I understand that some would frown on the fact that I don’t pretend to have a lens to my face for eight hours straight, maneuvering the event like a photojournalistic ninja. But for me it is impossible to tell the story with really experiencing the story itself. In other words, when in Rome, be a Roman.
Yes, this was my kind of gig. I checked my watch and saw that we still had a few minutes before family portrait time. I nudged Justin one last time just to make sure he was still awake before popping off the cap of an ice cold bottle of Coca-Cola. ”Just two more minutes…” I assure myself as I threw back a swig of the bubbly goodness. “Okay, just three more minutes…”