Apothecary Shed

We were proud to represent Virginia, Tennessee, and West Virginia in Rio at D&C’s nupitals; not to mention zombies.  We were also proud to represent zombies.  Oh yeah, and computer science and hairdressing too; not to mention machine learning. Can zombies even experience pride?  Is a prideful feeling some kind of qualia thing?  Or some other deontic whosy-whatsis?

I guess the only thing we were unqualified to represent was Philosophy. Fortunately, D&C had that angle appropriately covered.  Or maybe it was inappropriate?  (This writing is turning out way harder than I thought.)

The event was obviously some kind of simulation, because it was just too spectacular to be real. We were there in kilt and fancy dress, representing.  Here are some pictures we snapped. Or rather, software’ed, digitized? captured?! internetified??!

At the very bottom of this post are a number of extra pictures splotted on for completion. 

Who are “we”?  Well, your resident Virginia zombies of course—Romey and Gary. Gary is the one in the kilt who is having such a difficult time writing this down.

The wedding’s setting was gorgeous.  The Pavilhão Santa Teresa sits above Rio with a view of Sugarloaf, Christ the Reedemer, and Colonial Rio.  A spectacular afternoon with sparkling sun evolved at sunset into a magical fairy-land.  Was this real life?  Only you know for sure. Actually, maybe you don’t. Perhaps nobody will ever know.

Live music? Why of course there is live music. My favorite part of the first quintet performance was the tempo warfare between the flugelhorn slacker and the flute leader guy—something that was only obvious to a musician who has played zillions of weddings.  Flute leader guy was so mad!

Dave’s proud parents.

Of course Dave’s head was in the clouds.

Turns out that we were not the only paparazzi, though it is not clear whether the ones across the aisle were zombies, vampires, or Brazilians.

The Canadians had our backs. This was only slightly worrying.

Enter Claudia, resplendent in her glory.

Together at last.

The ceremony was complex and South American—philosophical, theoretical, mathematical, self-referencial, and precise in a vaguely Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo way. Or maybe it was Gabriel José de la Concordia García Márquez way. Hopefully you know what I mean. The vampire bit was the bomb. So very good—definitely a later run of the simulation (those North Americans have so much compute!)

It was at exactly precisely this time-slice that Dave became married.

Then it was up the hill to the reception. (Since everyone at the wedding forgot to eat lunch, this was a particularly important part of the evening.)

We started out having fun. And then more fun was had.

The Canadians had fun.

And the Australians? Yup.

There was bossa nova. It was live and very very good.

Then it was time to cut the cake? Maybe. Anyway the cake was cut. Then there was dinner. Or maybe the drinks were first. Well, we know there were drinks. Pretty much the whole time.

At some point, Dave showed me his socks. This was significant.

There were a number of toasts that were heartfelt, touching, romantic and excellent. Everyone felt the love.

Dave tried to explain the magic, but things went wrong when he just ended up making more magic.

We were still having fun.  There was dancing.  The DJ was doing his VERY LOUD thing.

And then, out of nowhere, SAMBA!

If you have never tried to Samba with actual Brazilian Samba people in a kilt, well my only recommendation is loosen those hips and move those feets!   We had SO MUCH FUN.

We danced to ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, Olivia Newton John, Men at Work, Bruno Mars, and many other bands trapped in our deepest associations. We danced even if we didn’t know the song. We danced.

Finally, it was time to depart. The simulation glows on in our hearts. Thanks Dave and Claudia for including us all in your adventure.

In the tradition of the Scot’s we leave you with this blessing:

May the best ye’ve ever seen Be the worst ye’ll ever see. May a moose ne’er leave yer girnal Wi ‘ a tear drap in his e’e. May ye aye keep hale an’ herty Till ye’re auld eneuch tae dee. May ye aye be jist as happy As we wish ye aye tae be.

THE EXTRA PICTURE ZONE