The creation of the inflatable church is without question, from a man’s perspective, the most exciting matrimonial advancement since the bachelor party because it means the fun no longer has to end the night before the wedding, somewhere in the general vicinity of a commode. That’s right, the excitement can continue the next day as the groom, flanked by his best man, bounces to the alter in his tube socks to await his blushing bride.
Because a fellow journalist friend and her sister are very close, and because I know how important it is that everything be perfect, I enthusiastically suggested the idea of an inflatable church for her sister’s wedding.
And because she knew I was really trying to help, she smiled and told me I had an inflatable head.
(She also added that if I had suggested something like that for my wedding, I probably would’ve spent the honeymoon with an inflatable wife.)
It became very clear that the inflatable church idea wasn’t going to fly with most women, at least not until a smaller, pocket-sized version was made available. Something that could be carried in a handbag and deployed instantly.
“Matt, I think our second date is going pretty well — don’t you?”
“Sure. I think you’re great.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Oh, I’m so happy!”
“Hey, wait just a MINUTE…!”
I think the problem lies in the notion that, just because a church is made of plastic and can fit into the back of a U-Haul, it somehow won’t be taken seriously. I mean, sure — there’s a chance someone’s high heels could puncture a pew and cause the entire church to deflate in the middle of the ceremony. And yeah, if you’re planning to renew your wedding vows in the same church some day, there’s a good chance it’ll be covered with Monkey-Grip tire patches the next time you see it.
But there are still plenty of reasons to consider the idea — beginning with the fact that the church comes with its own inflatable organ.
Since I haven’t actually seen this organ, I’m going to assume that it’s fully functional and — perhaps more importantly — a musical device.
However, if I’m incorrect in this assumption, I CAN assure you that no groomsmen will be volunteering to blow it up.
It’s also worthwhile noting that the entire church can be assembled anywhere in just three hours, then dis-assembled in less than two, which, altogether, is still longer than most of Jennifer Lopez’s marriages.
But what if you’re planning a big wedding?
The inflatable church is 47 feet long, 25 feet wide, and 47 feet high at the steeple. And if that isn’t enough room, you can always push on the sides and squeeze a few more chairs in. Try doing that at some fancy-shmancy cathedral with its over-built stone walls.
I, of course, brought all of this to my friend’s attention in hopes of getting her to at least consider the idea. She said that she would, as long as I understood that if I suggested the idea to her sister’s fiancee, my legs would end up in an inflatable cast.
That’s pretty much where our conversation ended.
However, I haven’t totally given up on the idea. In fact, I’ve already reserved an inflatable church for my 10th wedding anniversary in 2018. Consider this your official invitation to what will undoubtedly be a very special and joyous occasion.
That is, once everyone stops staring at the organ.
(You can write to Ned at firstname.lastname@example.org, or at Siuslaw News, P.O. Box 10, Florence, Ore. 97439)