After celebrating beforehand for two days, I attended a Big Fat Greek Wedding. Not just attended, but was in. What crazy fun! Everything you saw in the movie played out before my eyes today, right down to the non-Mediterranean in-laws looking terrified, and the bride having about two bajillion family members who kissed everybody, ate a lot of meat, sang loudly and expertly navigated their ways through complicated Greek dances that made the rest of us look like we had never actually learned to walk. I'm told we got the condensed version of the ceremony; instead of a three-hour to-do where everything is recited in English, then Greek, then English again, we had just one round in English. All the rituals therein are repeated three times, including the exchange of the rings, the crowning, the walk around the table, and the kissing of the Bible. The couple never speaks, and half the oration is sung by the Priest. After the ceremony, the bridal party got to chill out in the honeymoon suite while noshing on ice cream, lamb and Spanikopita. We took it easy at the reception. Kevin and I were not the furthest traveled (half the wedding party was from Nova Scotia, and one couple flew in from Poland) but we still took the liberty of only dancing the slow songs, and of chilling at the table more often than not. Our jetlag was one excuse; the fact that nobody wanted to see my precariously placed dress go flying off was another.