The vows were solemn, but the excitement was irrepressible.
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"No, we don't have a witness for our wedding. Do you want to be our witness?" was how our conversation began. But were the three of us in a smoke-filled bar after I've had one too many pints of Guinness, the conversation would have went rather differently, and it would have ended with a handprint across my face and a cold, cold drink poured down my lap. What can I say? My je ne sais quoi when it comes to women transcends even sexual orientation.
My impotent boorishness aside, the two of them were among the sweetest couples that I met at City Hall. They were almost glowing from beaming at each other the entire time. I could have set off firecrackers next to them and they wouldn't have given me a second glance, if a first. I hope whatever bug bit the two of them doesn't prove contagious.