Working at Beach Blanket, you become part of this big family. Even when you no longer work there, you're still part of the family, invited to weddings, parties, roasts, jam nights, etc. It is the greatest and most priceless benefit of suffering through the hell that was being the costume mistress.
My roommate previous to Bonnie (Phillip) is one of the stars of Beach Blanket. One night, Pip, Tammy, and I head over to Martuni's and lo and behold, Pip meets Michael. They fell madly in love, and yesterday, they got married.
Keep in mind, the last BBB wedding I attended was for Jessica and Valerie, a huge crimson colored lesbian affair at a fabulous winery. Pip is one of my dearest friends on this fine planet, but I didn't think anything could beat the gay extravaganza that Jess and Val created. I was wrong.
Held at a lovely Presbiterian Church in Sausalito, the chappel was 75% full of BBBers, and the other 25% deemed by me and Andy, "those we don't know." Having not seen many of these people in some time, Andy and I got dolled up. In fact, on the way over, we couldn't stop remarking just how fabulous we looked. We arrived at the perfect moment to make a serious entrance, and I think it's safe to say, everyone was appropriately impressed.
The ceremony was lovely, and very emotional. All of the music was Carpenter's, which Tammy sang, and when the grooms were presented to the congregation as "committed to each other for life", the place went nuts. Nuts. It was wonderful.
We piled out into the rain and headed downstairs for the reception, greeted immediately by the very hot wine boy. As this was a gay, gay wedding, he was actually refered to as "hot wine boy!" all night long. I grabbed a glass of red and started my rounds, ending up grilled in the corner about my love life by Darren and Ignacio.
Everyone was having a lovely time, my mother fascinated by the amount of gay couples AND the amount of inter-racial couples. (Pip is very black and very Southern, and Mike...well, he's from Kansas.) There was one gay inter-racial couple wearing matching Nehru collar embroidered suits, my mother and Zoe noting that the black guy wore the white suit and the white guy wore the black suit. In fact, my mother was the belle of the ball, downing Chardonnay and mingling with the Castro crowd.
Suddenly, it was time for the speeches. The best man spoke, then Tammy, then Pip and Mike. I'm standing in the back, smiling and thrilled for my Pip. Then I hear, "And there's someone very special to us, who was there on the night we met. Where's our Beth?"
Everyone turns and looks at me, and I do the obligitory glass raise.
"No, no, no. Come up here and talk."
Now, I'm never one to turn down a public speaking engagement, but this one caught me off guard. I walk up there, composing something in my head and laughing as Juan announces, "This is the first time any of us have seen her speechless!" The place errupts into hysterics.
I down my Cabernet and begin. I told the story of how every night after work, Pip and I would get home and immediately turn on the midnight back to back episodes of Golden Girls on Lifetime. We'd watch and talk, often about the boys we were going to marry. And yadda, yadda, yadda, here we are today. It was a hit, I tell you, my brother particularly impressed.
They cut the cake, the crowd thinned, and the old time party people were left. Someone rolled out a piano, and some of the greatest performers in the Bay Area sang their hearts out just for us. You have no idea. It was incredible. Celisse sang Whitney, Skye sang a gospel version of Wind Beneath My Wings, and Patrick...oh Patrick. Well, he's indescribable.
We helped clean up, went to Pip and Mike's to pee, and then to the Yacht Club for drinks. Finally, we headed back into the city, to where it all began. Yep, we all rolled into Martuni's. Everyone came, including Pip and Mike, and we sang the night away. Even Bonnie and Mercedes showed, hooting and hollering for Patrick to sing.
At 1am, Patrick announces we're going to 2211. Everyone else heads home as Andy, Patrick, Tommy Halligan, and I pile in my car and head over there, the bartender Pat being a dear friend. Sitting around 2211, Pat hooking us up with drinks, surrounded by 3 of my favorite men of all time, I was in heaven. Or maybe trashed from 12 hours of straight drinking. Either way, who cares.
I got home at 3am, having never removed my gold heels. I passed out soon thereafter. It was a glorious affair, just like old times. I love these people, and while I bitch and moan, I love Beach Blanket.
More importantly, I friggin' love gay weddings.