A not-so-typical Vegas wedding trip
She didn’t catch my eye because she had her large breasts exposed, hanging out of her pirate outfit and covered by small red sequined pasties.
Or because she was really a he wearing a black bra, tiny green shorts that seemed more like underwear and black strappy stilettos. Or because she was strumming the strings of a guitar into a symphony with her lips alone.
It was the glow in her face emanating love that caught me.
Out of the hundreds of people swirling along the Fremont Street Experience in Las Vegas, one bride was what brought my wandering eye to a stop this past weekend.
In an area where spectators, street vendors and casinos were competing for my full attention by performing every eye catching trick in the book, it can be hard to focus on only one person. A bride’s happiness stopped me dead in my tracks.
The color of her eyes twinkled more than the thousands of lights flashing from the casinos along the second most famous street in the Las Vegas valley. She gazed around with the corners of her mouth permanently turned up in a smile that beamed joy.
She clutched the tail of her shimmery white gown — decorated with swirls of diamonds— in her right hand as she floated underneath the LED display canopy spanning Fremont Street’s five blocks.
Spirals of curls hung gently, framing the features on her face while other tresses were adorned in an elaborate updo around the crown of her head. Her bouquet, encompassed in a maroon ribbon under a sea of white roses, a few beginning to wilt, lay on the floor next to her small pearly white shoes.
Her mere essence shouted at the top of its lungs, louder than the yells from the rowdy crowd and eardrum busting music emitting from the dozens of speakers, that she had found the one, who she was proud to unite her life with.
I couldn’t spot the groom, but her beatitude intoxicated the air surrounding her and told me exactly how she would react upon finding the one she couldn’t live without.
It would probably only take her groom, dressed in a translucent black tuxedo with a maroon tie loosely hanging from his neck, a few seconds to connect eyes with the new Mrs. after more than 20 minutes of drumming his fingers on his wallet as he waited in line.
She would probably blow him a kiss with her bright red lips, through the electric air. He would shoot her a small smile followed by a quick wink before refocusing on the task at hand.
Considering that Vegas has made an illustrious business out of having a quick wedding — and by quick I mean faster than the speed of light — resembling a factory assembly line in Sin City, it’s amazing couples can keep true love alive and glimmering throughout it all.
Not to mention that when someone utters “a wedding in Las Vegas,” it makes the brides in extravagant, leopard print and fuschia pink gowns on “My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding” seem like child’s play.
Instead of the traditional wedding, I get flashes of Elvis in a top hat as the marriage officiant, bridesmaids dressed as show girls with large bright red feathers, drunk groomsman in Speedos, the maid of honor throwing up in her purse, the groom running away with a stripper and the bride crying into her bouquet at the sight of it all.
But I didn’t see that. It amazed me how more than anything love could trample all Sin City had to offer and walk away joined hand in hand with another soul, ready to face all of life’s battles and celebrate the giggles and smiles that lay ahead.
Love is a powerful and beautiful beast that not even Las Vegas can ruin.
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