Just me. (lara7) wrote,
Just me.

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In which the brIdes of March pledge their love to the Seattle Monorail (Act i)

So, if you aren't up on your Shakespeare, you may not remember the famous line "Beware the Ides of March", which, auf Englisch, means March 15. I'm not sure exactly why "Ides" means "15th"- I always thought it had something to do with malt liquor.

Like the Santa Rampage, history does not record the name of the Cacophonist who invented the idea of hosting a "brIdes of March" event on or around 3/15, but I do know 2003 was the 3rd annual one for Seattle and at least the second one for Portland. Unlike Santa, BrIdes is a smaller event, but on the plus side, it tends to cause much more consternation to unwitting observers. Everyone "gets" Santa. Very few people think when they see a dozen brides waiting in a food court "Oh, of course, it's March 15th!". And while women in Santa suits are old hat by now, a group of BrIdes that includes hairy men in veils threatens the comfort level of many people. Especially when marriage to a prominent phallic Seattle landmark (the Hammering Man sculpture, The Space Needle, and this year, the Monorail) is involved.

The brIdes slowly trickled into the Seattle Center Food court. Some brides used the wait time to calm theirwedding day jitters, while others flitted about getting signatures for our guestbook. We were scheduled to wed our groom at 6:15, but he was late, the bastard. Maybe that bodes ill for the future of our marriage, but on our Special Day, nothing could truly perturb us.

Our Reverend did a fine job. As we never actually divorced the Space Needle after last year, there was concern about the validity of our new marriage, but our clever Reverend made sure to ask the Space Needle to voice any concerns about this new union. Since he didn't speak any words of protest, we figured we gave his blessing. After the ceremony, we mounted our groom to consumate our love. While he is strong, hard, and fast, it was over with far too quickly. He deposited us at the mall and then rushed off- something about a timetable he had to stick to. Sigh- such a workaholic! So we went shopping, dreaming of extending our line into Ballard.

Pretend this horse-drawn carriage whisked us away, even though, alas, it did not.

The BrIdes walked to a pub, where a surly bartender tried to cloud our Special Day by being beligerent about serving us, refusing to let any BrIde buy more than one drink unless the person she was buying it for also came to the bar with her ID. If he thinks 11 BrIdes are trouble, I'd love to see how he'd have handled 8-10 dozen Santas. Harumph!

After relaxing with a drink, the BrIdes went to another consumer facility to do a Bouquet toss and visit the Temple of Handwashables, where Bride Greg pondered how to use their helpful services.

An aside: you would think that, if two BrIdes wanted to, say, sneak into a fitting room together to privately steal a kiss, it would be impossible to do this stealthily and inconspiciously, due to the nature of their costumes and the fact that the clerks would probably be on the lookout for aberrant behavior when a group including 4 cross-dressed men, one of whom is wearing a nun's habit, enters the store. You would also think that any BrIdes who managed to sneak off into a fitting room would be given away by the rustle of taffeta on taffeta and the fits of giggling caused when overhearing the sales girl speaking to the occupant of the fitting room next door about matching bra and panty sets. You would think that, any BrIdes who got that far would surely be noticed leaving the fitting room at the same time and would thus be caught and thrown out of the store.


After shopping, many of the BrIdes had to leave. We walked them back to our loving husband, who carried them back to the Seattle Center.

The story doesn't end there-- the remaining BrIdes would soon experience a yuppies at a piano bar, a roving Guerrilla Drag party, and a Limosine based-scavenger hunt-- all at the same time. But that will have to wait for part 2 of this entry- now that I'm a married woman, I need my sleep.

* For you non-SeaTac-ers who don't realize why that's funny: the Sky Church is a performance space in the EMP, and the Monorail travels through the EMP. The EMP itself is a giant crushed soda can owned by Paul Allen. It will actually appear again in part 2 of the story.

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