What is the marriage supper of the clam?

Why did you bring this up? It was horrible.

When my cousin told me he was having a destination wedding in San Juan, I thought great! Puerto Rico, here I come! But he meant the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington State. It wasn't even one of the cool islands like Orcas or one you could drive to like Fidalgo or Whidbey. No, it was "Smith Island." Who's even heard of "Smith Island"?

Turns out, Smith is nature preserve off Whidbey. Usually it's closed to the public but my cousin knows a guy and got a permit for the day.

It started with a party-ferry from Mukilteo. The Sound was pretty calm, which should have tipped me off. The Sound is never that calm. Even so, I don't drink on small boats—unlike most of the wedding party. Wow.

We get to the island and it's, like, 97 degrees and wicked humid and we still need to set up. I don't know if you've ever set up chairs, tables, more chairs, a floral arch, and a gazebo when half the crew is tipsy, but it's not fun. If it weren't for the bride (Army officer) it never would have gotten done.

Because of the setting, we had the wedding "dinner" for lunch. Typical NW seafood. I stuck to the smoked salmon—I don't trust raw seafood in coolers—but most people dove into the clams. It was getting windy, so we cleared the tables before the ceremony. Some of us. The rest kept drinking.

It started shortly before the ceremony began. We couldn't find the best man. After searching a while, we realized he was the reason people had been lined outside the one bathroom for ten minutes. He finally came out looking green and sweaty. He made it to the altar, though, more or less steady.

Then it was the mother of the bride. She had been waiting in line for the loo, but the line was too long and she rushed back when she heard the music start, just in time to hurl in the middle of the bridal path.

As an usher gave her one of those tiny napkins and a chalky mint, four people left their seats; one got in line at the bathroom and the other three disappeared into the trees.

It was downhill from there. I mean, it was bad. People were going into the freezing water. Then the winds picked up and it started drizzling. The ferry captain refused to land to take us back to the mainland until the NOAA station meteorologist told him a storm was coming in. We didn't have any transportation on Whidbey, so we had to ride on choppy water from Smith all the way back to Mukilteo—most people leaning over the railing.

We were just passing Marrowstone when I realized we'd never completed the ceremony. The justice of the peace was on the back deck, groaning and regretting his life choices. Then I remembered—the ferry captain could marry them. The bride was fine (besides the stain on the back of her dress from her maid of honor) and my cousin was pale but keeping it together. So the captain married them in the bridge while the first mate and I witnessed.

It goes without saying that not only have I never again touched a clam, I skip every wedding dinner I'm invited to. I'll go to the ceremony but slip away right after. Even when I got married—no food, not even a cake.

Nope, the next time I eat food at a wedding it will be the marriage supper of the Lamb.

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