While I was pretending to be Maverick, my soon-to-be wife and friends were working hard to get her ready. (I’ve never ironed anything on the ground.)
Of course, men are expected to look less then perfect (the groomsmen had facial hair and stubble) but the ladies had no such luxury. In the church bathroom they did all that wierd stuff girls do to get ready. (It involves blow torches and sand blasting as far as I know.)
While it’s not romantic to think of these things as engineering feats, that’s how it seems, sometimes. The ladies were working hard and things were looking really good.
But the question remained, would she step out to meet me? Would she leave me at the altar or ask for more time?
The audience (made up of good looking men) could only watch and wait.
To be continued…