I Do, But I Don't

Last month, I went on two very different trips that, looking back, had a lot in common.  And it isn't often that a wedding and a swim meet have anything in common, so it seems like I should elaborate.

The first trip was to Charleston, SC, to attend the wedding of my cousin's daughter, Becca.  While her dad and I are fairly close, the 30-something bride and I never spent much time together or communicated, aside from a few Likes exchanged through the years.  This is probably because she is a distant enough relative that I never had to buy her presents, which would've at least (hopefully, though you never can tell) earned me a thank you note once in awhile.

Her groom, the love of her life since college, seems like a good guy.  The wedding was in the manner of all large weddings today:  at a destination, and unaffected by normal limitations on reasonable spending.  Today's weddings have proposals which are scripted and captured by video (in the perfect light) -- right before the ring that is exactly the one she wanted and in the correct size is slipped on her finger.  It's published immediately on multiple platforms, which result in more Likes and Loves.

During the year-long run-up there are destination bridal showers ("She Said Yes!" and/or "Let the Shenanigans Begin") and bachelor weekends (see The Hangover).  At those curated girl weekends the bridesmaids are all wearing sashes and matching clothing (though the bride-to-be needs to be in a different color so as to stand out at all times).  The bachelor party is Bro'd out, and enough alcohol is consumed to make all of the other tourists feel the need to keep a close eye on their children.  In the run-up there are cake tastings, destination site tours, Universal Life Minister certifications, and after-party hunts.  Administratively there are blocks of rooms that need to be held (and gift bags to make), and gift registries to be populated with everything the couple already has ... but much better, along with just big chunks of money in the requested area, humbly described as "Honeymoon Spa Package."  

The invite needs to have a very self-conscious accounting of how the couple met; essays by both the bride and groom on how the other completes them; pictures of all the wedding party living their best lives; and a multi-day list of activities:  before (pre-Rehearsal dinner cocktails, Rehearsal dinner, post-Rehearsal dinner drinks); wedding day (ceremony, Reception, post-Reception drinking and dancing); and day-after (Brunch and post-Brunch microbrewery flights -- with the happy couple wearing something adorbs that says "Hubby" and "Wifey").  A-listers get to unlock all the RSVPs. The Benjamins were spared from the complete list.  Menu options for the reception are listed on the wedding website, including at least a dozen *-free things a modern person would require to be their best self.

Dress codes are specified, and today it's always Black Tie for the wedding, though that is certainly interpreted in different ways which apparently include no tie at all ... and boots.  The bride and groom want everyone to get into Curated Wedding Costume because that will make all their captured memories even better.  There's nothing worse than showing up underdressed and looking like you don't want the happy couple to have the Perfect Day --  unless you're one of their peers, when that makes you look like their special cool friend. especially if you wear a hat.  The older women wore beaded dresses, of a style that one would find when searching the Nordstrom website for "Women/Dress/Cocktail Party."  The young women wore dresses that had enormous slits up one or both sides, of a fabric that seemed like it would do in a pinch to prevent an opened block of cheese from spoiling.

All the wedding party need to report for hair and makeup at least eight hours before the actual ceremony.  They must all wear matching robes.  The wedding party now wear long dresses in a variety of styles, in the same figure-hugging fabric.  One can have one shoulder bare, a strappy back, or tulip sleeves to better express your individuality while wearing the bride's choice of approved wedding colors and styles.  The wedding dress is now a sight to behold, as well.  The no-frills gown is now running in the neighborhood of $5000, and is sure to highlight the bride's best features, thanks to numerous alterations and bras that are so smart they were surely made with technology used by the Army Corps of Engineers.

The single photographer of my distant memory has turned into a team that works for several of the wedding events, including a videographer.  The father's "first look" at his daughter in her gown is scripted and captured in the preferred angle; there is a required shot of the dress on a hangar, the shoes, the rings.  All the action photos are ever-so-posed and if you look closely at the looks of adoration, as the sun casts a perfect glow during the Golden Hour, you can make out a tiny shadow of shallowness despite years of summer drama camp.  Dances are rehearsed to include "dips" during the curated heartfelt playlist, and then cheap props are passed out like at a bat mitzvah, including glow-in-the-dark sticks as though all eyes were not posed already on the young, beautiful people.  The one acknowledgment of aging was when the groom danced with his elderly grandmother, who rose unsteadily from a wheelchair.  That was just so moving for these prime-of-lifers, though to a person they are certain that when they're old -- really old -- they'll still be on the Peloton, killing it.

It's a little weird for me to now be out on the fringe of everything, as though the Wedding is Downtown and I am the Suburbs -- able to see the tall buildings but not knowing what bus to take, when things open, who is making all that noise, and what a Digital Overlord does.  

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My second trip, just four days later, was to San Antonio, for the 2022 USMS Short Course National Championships. I was once again reminded that I am sitting at the outside table at the Reception, while all the young and beautiful people are seated grouped together, right in front of the music.

This meet was planned at least as long as Becca's wedding.  There were websites to build, with stories of attractions in San Antonio (the Alamo and the ... river?) and a list of events to enter.  There are optional activities to RSVP for:  hospitality, parking, personal photographer for "action shots," Saturday night social.  Here the Benjamins qualified for everything, yay!  

There were professional announcers and amazing production graphics were added to the live feed video, which included the swimmers' names and times each time the swimmers touched the wall.  The announcers read each athlete's name as they raced.  This appeared to be the same production quality as NBC offered for the Olympics, including heartfelt stories of overcoming adversity (mainly by going on and on about anyone who was over 90 ... and they had plenty of time to do that, when those folks swam).  Aren't the elderly just adorable when they dance and swim?  The young people dutifully applauded at the end of the nonagenarians' races, though they're convinced that when they're that age they'll be maybe a second or two slower than today, just killing it, and with few if any wrinkles, because of the attention they give to their skin.

Goody bags were waiting for us upon check-in at the swim meet; and all the large and cool teams were assigned tents near the center of the action.  The Benjamins (actually just one Benjamin and my teammates) and small teams like us, sat in the bleachers, far away from the main pool deck but with a good view of the action and no chance of getting splashed.  It was just like being on the edge of the dance floor, where the parquet tiles ended.

In most local swim meets the races are seeded to allow the fastest men or women to race each other in the same heat, regardless of age.  At Nationals, the heats are grouped only by age group, with the oldest ages first.  It was always surprising to find everyone next to me was around my age (though it did give me plenty of reasons to silently judge them).  In my first Nationals, decades ago,  I was in Heat 60, right where the action is and where the announcer says things like "Wow, look at that race!"  Now, in San Antonio, I've somehow found myself in Heat 5, which is definitely the suburbs of the swim meet.  Just like at the wedding, I was at the outside table, and I felt that my presence -- though I was legitimately invited -- was just to make the young folks look even cooler.

The dress code at championship meets is also swimming's version of Black Tie.  Fancy tech suits, which for a woman runs around $600, were ubiquitous.  While not required, if you came all that way and paid all that money to swim at Nationals, why not go the last mile to be make yourself faster through technology?  Matching robes it is, for the swimming bridesmaids.  Eight hours of hair and makeup are the swimming equivalent of a good two-hour shaving session plus 45-minutes to laboriously shove yourself into that devil of a compression swimsuit.  Teams also had matching t-shirts and special swim caps that had their club's name and "National Team" printed on them.  We were primed and geared up, ready for our big day.

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The thing about these two events, is that while they both celebrated the young, having the old folks there made it seem better for both groups.  

At the wedding, the old folks reminded the young of their largely untroubled childhoods and told cute stories from the past that made them seem even more fully grown up now.  We made them look even more lovely next to our wrinkles.  In return for sitting us on the fringe and giving us a wedge salad and choice of beef or fish, the older guests financially supported the event (especially the parents) as well as the honeymoon through our generous donations.  And we are a bargain here, since no one can stay up late enough to attend the After Party.  

At the swim meet, having the old folks there not only made the young folks feel even more carefree and immune from aging, but we all marveled at their lithe bodies and technical proficiency, which had to make them feel good, if they accidentally talked to us.  In return they made us feel that we are not as decrepit as they assumed we would be, which I'll take as a win.

It was a weird week.  I remember just yesterday feeling that young and immortal.  And now I can look back on all the mistakes I've made that they have yet to go through, confident that they will because they'd never dream of asking my opinion.  Besides the mistakes I have so many great memories, too.  Those of course include swimming.  The one thing I've taken from competition is that it's all about the journey, and not the outcome.  My journey is more quantified at weddings and swim meets now, but it's still a journey that's ongoing.  Still dancing, still swimming--  just sitting in a different table or swimming in Heat 5.  Glad to be here.