Don't Even think About a justice building Wedding
Dum, dum, de dum, here comes the bride...all eyes turn toward you as you enter the room....looking radiant, serene....the picture of bliss. Oh but wait, before you take your walk down the (very short) aisle, you must pause in order to pass through the metal detector!
You probably have a very valid surmise for considering a courthouse wedding, but no worries, I'm here to dissuade you of that plan entirely and give you alternatives. Perhaps you're on a tight budget, or you've been planning a big wedding, but the pressure is getting to you so you're going to chuck the whole thing in favor of some uncomplicated "I do's" before a local justice of the peace. Or maybe you're a total introvert and the plan of proclaiming undying love and commitment in front of 200 of your friends, family members and your boss is not exactly up your alley. Safer to head uptown on a Tuesday afternoon with only your honey as witness if you mumble and fumble your vows!
Or you'd rather focus on the marriage rather than the wedding, so the idea of a quick, legal ceremony sounds appealing. Maybe you're pregnant and want the legal part "over with". Or Perhaps somewhere in your warped pre-wedding-stressed brain, you've convinced yourself that spiriting away to the County courthouse is daring and romantic. (Note: it's more like drab and depressing.)
I have three dinky words for you that will have huge impact. Don't do it! Let me script a scenario for you about how the day might go. You wake up. Ah! Your wedding day. Plan to have this feeling of bliss shattered when you arrive at the county courthouse. You'll be greeted by the ubiquitous protection guard faultless with metal detector. You'll queue up behind all the grumpy habitancy who've been assigned jury duty that day. This will feel especially awkward if you've opted to don formal wedding attire. (Hey, get a load of the guy in the tuxedo and the gal in the meringue dress!)
The metal clip that holds your wedding-day hairdo in place will set off the alarm, causing the guard to bellow into his radio, "We need a guard for a female search!" while habitancy send you looks of whether pity or bemusement. Your groom, who has neglected to take the rings from his pocket, will face similar scrutiny. Red-faced, you'll feel the wanding, the patting and the final nod of approval, then after putting your shoes back on, you'll be sent on your way to the clerk's office to obtain your marriage license.
Once there, you'll be given the "opportunity" to take a amount and wait your turn to be called. It will feel vaguely well-known to you. You'll ponder this familiarity, wondering why you have a inescapable sense of déjà vu when you know you've never set foot in the clerk's office in your life. But then it dawns upon you. This place has the same feel as the Dmv, faultless with drab walls, bored employees in cubicles, copious amounts of bureaucratic paperwork and the interminable wait.
By now you're beginning to think you should have popped a few bucks for the chapel down the street.
At long last, your amount is called and you and your intended eagerly coming the window, where you are asked a amount of questions by the cubicle-inhabiting worker, who ultimately--and with no acknowledgment that this is a very big day for you indeed--hands you your marriage license and drones, "Courtroom amount 705, down the hall to the right, take the elevator to the 7th floor....Next!!!"
You scurry out, relieved to the point of giddiness. You've made it past the hurdles and the coveted paperwork is in your hands. You head up to the seventh floor, but as you are pushing the elevator button, you hear an unfamiliar clanking and shuffling. You turn to see a sheriff, escorting a sullen finding man in prison scrubs who is wearing both handcuffs and leg shackles. Oh, didn't you know that the county jail is in the basement of this building? After all, we all deserve our day in court, whether it's for elopement or arraignment.
You all shuffle into the elevator--some shuffling more than others. You wonder if it would be inappropriate to mutter, "have a nice day," as the guard and his shadow exit the elevator on the 3rd floor. You don't want to be rude.
But wait, another integrate enters the elevator as the doors are closing. Phew! At least these folks are not in leg irons. In fact, they look quite respectable. But then you observation the woman is clearly agitated; enraged, even. "That lying Sob, she rails, "I want him to Hurt! He'll pay child support through the nose if it's the last thing I do! And by the way, I insist on getting the Suv, the dog and the ancient dresser in the guest room " The gentleman with her, clearly her attorney, encourages her by agreeing that yes, he will really drain her soon-to-be-ex of every last penny, stick of furniture and shred of dignity the lying Sob might still possess.
Ding. Fifth floor. Ladies lingerie, giftware, housewares....divorce court.
More than a dinky spooked, you finally exit the elevator from hell and position yourselves expectantly in front of the judge's clerk's desk. She gives you a "what makes you think you're so extra look" and directs you take a seat. The judge will be with your shortly. What she doesn't tell you is that his honor has a full docket this morning and will not even sight your way until the noon hour. It is now 10:15 a.m. And by the way, there are three couples ahead of you.
With no other choice, you sit, perusing six month old issues of habitancy Magazine, where you will no doubt read at least one record about some spectacular, Hollywood picture-perfect wedding. You're beginning to think that putting up with paparazzi would be a good problem to have.
At 12:45, the judge comes out and introduces himself to all couples present. He smells vaguely of mustard and is picking a wayward sesame seed from his front tooth. He needs to be back in court by 1:00. He'll do his best. Of course, this means that there is time for the first three couples to get in their nuptials. You? Well, you'll have to wait until another judge is available. That may not be until court is adjourned for the day. Frazzled, you begin to snap at your intended, the love of your life. It's not finding good.
Several hours later, your name is called. You are ushered into the judge's chambers. He pulls out a binder and intones, "do you, Bradley (your groom's name is Brendan), take this woman, yada, yada, yada.. You may kiss the bride.
You look at your watch. The ceremony took 90 seconds... You sigh.
Okay, I'll stop here. While this is really a worse-case scenario, you get my drift. More than likely, you're not going to have a wedding ceremony upon which you'll look back with fond memories if you opt for a courthouse wedding. Please, in the name of true love, reconsider other options. Here are some ideas to get you started.
· Hire a professional wedding officiant who offers an elopement ceremony. This will only cost a bit more than a courthouse wedding (most elopements will run less than 0 especially if you have it performed on a weekday).
· Write your own ceremony and have a friend achieve it. Many states will give a layperson one-time credentials to legally achieve a wedding ceremony. Also, one may obtain an online ordination through an institution such as the Universal Life Church and most states will identify this as legally binding.
· If it's an issue of money, reconsider delaying your wedding for a few months until you can save for something a notch above the courthouse. I'm not saying you have to spend grand and invite everybody you know. But a small backyard wedding with a handful of close friends and your parents followed by a potluck picnic and wedding cake will be a good tribute to the start of your married life than being married in the judge's chambers after a six hour wait.
· If you feel you really must have a courthouse wedding, then at least reconsider that as merely the legal quantum of your commitment. Prior to the courthouse appointment--or just after--escape with your honey (and maybe a handful of loved ones if you wish) to a romantic location. At that spot, change your vows--heartfelt ones that symbolize your unique love and values. Then seal the deal with the change of rings. Let that perceive be the one you remember when you look back upon the start of your married life.
And if the above hasn't convinced you to eschew the courthouse wedding, I have but one more pearl of wisdom to throw your way. Have you noticed how similar the word "courthouse" is to the word "outhouse"? Two dinky letters make up the only difference.
And wouldn't you rather begin your married life with a flourish as opposed to a flush?
