A lineup of hundreds of couples and brides and moms snaked around the 5th floor of the Marriot Marquis hotel in Times Square. “Move the line please,” a bald man dressed like a secret service agent shouted. No one moved, though. “Let’s tighten up the line folks.”
Brides looked quizzically at one another. No one understood why this man was yelling, so for the most part we all ignored him. Instead, many of the women focused their attention on all of the magic and wonder awaiting them inside the Great Bridal Expo.
“Hopefully I’ll win something today,” one woman said.
“I’m going to put in 10 raffle tickets to win the grand prize.” (Clever.)
“Here, blow on my ticket for good luck.”
We inched closer to the registration table.
“Are you a bride?” one woman asked me. “Yes,” I said. She peeled off a sticker on her clipboard that read VIB and brushed her hand against my breast as she was pressing it on my shirt. It was probably going to be my last venture into lesbianism.
Another woman handed me a registration form. “So many people are getting married,” she said.
“It’s sickening, I know.”