Beaches are very special places to get married. Imagine pledging your eternal devotion to your beloved before a romantic backdrop of crashing waves, shifting sands and drunken hobos.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
It was pretty good luck that the hobo was there, actually, because we needed a witness for our marriage license. "Excuse me, sir," I said when I saw him lying on the ground, a Bud Light tallboy resting a few inches from his splayed-out hand. "Would you mind signing right here?"
Our inebriated friend was not the only unusual aspect to what turned out to be a thoroughly surreal wedding day.
The weirdness started when I had my hair put up at a tiny salon a couple of blocks from the beach. Two stylists busily ignored me while having a detailed conversation about a transvestite named Hank. Or Holly, depending on what time of day you ran into him.
"He's got a wife and kids," Stylist No. 1 said to Stylist No. 2 as she rammed bobby pins into my hair. "He's perfectly heterosexual; he just likes to dress up as a woman."
Stylist No. 2 agreed as she applied perm solution to a very old lady's head. "There's another one in town, too," she said. "He's not married, though. He plays a lot of golf."
I nodded solemnly, trying to be friendly and engaged in the discussion. Suddenly, two pairs of eyes met mine in the mirror.
"Oh my God," said Stylist No. 1. "You're not marrying a transvestite, are you?"
A beat went by.
"Not that I know of," I said.
"Good," said Stylist No. 2. "We didn't want to offend you."
After my hair was done and my eyes rimmed with blue eyeliner that I suspect was saved especially for me from the year 1984, it was time to get married.
Let me pose a question. Say you were visiting the beach and saw a couple having a wedding. Would you: a) maintain a respectful distance from the wedding party so you wouldn't get in the photographer's way or b) stroll slowly right in front of them wearing your orange floral tank suit?
For one special beachgoer, it was b) all the way. I respect that. We will never forget you, orange-bathing-suit lady. Mostly because you are in all our photos.
None of that matters, of course, because what's really important is that I got to marry my favorite person in the world.
Well, maybe second-favorite. I have always been partial to drunken hobos.
Reassure Jessica that she looks very fetching in blue eyeliner at jburgess@quickdfw.com.
