My big fat Serbian wedding

It wasn’t my Serbian wedding, I’m not Serbian or married yet, but I heard that title all weekend.  I never saw the Greek wedding movie actually, mostly because I’m not Greek and have testicles, thus the not seeing it.  I knew nothing about Serbian culture before my trip, now I know they drink plum brandy/whiskey.  Holy shit does that burn like fire.  I still drank it, because I’m a trooper (alkie) and I respect other cultures (not really, just an alkie).

The wedding ceremony I attended was performed by a fresh off the boat Serbian Orthodox priest.  A lot of chanting, and “sensors” which is what incense sounds like when pronounced by a fresh off the boat Serbian priest.  My favorite moment was when he said, “At theeese moment these two beavers become one beaver.”  I was trying trying to figure out what in the hell beavers had to do with matrimony.  The beaver is rather industrious…resourceful…but it’s a damn beaver, what in hell is he talking about?  Then I realized he said “reeevers” which is actually rivers.  That makes more sense.

The close ties to their homeland and tradition have inspired me to harken back to my traditional roots.  Not Germany, England, Scotland or even my 1/32 Native American roots (every white person acts like they’re part Native American despite the fact there are about seven Native Americans in the Midwest.  Indians either banged everyone’s great grandma or white guilt is pretty strong around here).  No, I have decided to have an all-American wedding.  I will eschew the tux for a hand sewn Uncle Sam or Captain America suit, replace the flowers with sparklers stuck in empty Budweiser bottles, and get a Hummer limo with bald eagle decals.  Now if only I can get another fiancee when mine leaves after finding out I want a white trash ‘Merica wedding.