Enter the Baptistes.

The stretch of expressway showed me parts of my city that I had never seen, so much so that I wondered if the GPS had led me astray.

"Destination in 4 miles," it chimes.

Yeah. I'll believe that when I arrive.

I'm en route to the wedding ceremony for Mr. Baptiste, a friend from last year's modern philosophy course. During his travels to Asia he met Jessica, and a series of events led to love. A tall maroon-toned man prone to afros and a slinder caucasian with deep dark red hair, united by the chinese language; now to become one in holy matrimony.

I vagabond my way into the church, knowing no one. I can't remember the last time I attended a wedding. It certainly hasn't been since achiveing any of the maturity that comes with a man's mid-twenties. How should one act?

I don't have a gift! - I'm not supposed to be here. - I'm so nervous. - My phone is dying.

However, when I saw Baptiste I knew everything was alright. He was composed and all smiles, which left no reasoning for my pre-wedding jitters. I'm not even getting married today.

Fortunately, I found a couple whom I'm friends with and was able to ride the wave of matrimonial europhoria with them.

The congregation, peppered with people of all nationalities, stood as Jessica entered. A wave of heat washed over me, and perhaps, everyone else, as she smiles. On the alter stood Baptiste. I've never seen someone cry so much from being so happy. So blessed.

The father gives the bride away, and the Baptiste name is set to double. They looked into each other's eyes and sang a love song in harmony. They exchanged vows in Chinese, and it didn't even matter if anyone understood. Those words wearn't meant for our hearts.

A preachers decree, and a kiss. It's done. Two are one.

"Bravo!" and "Yeehaw! I exclaimed shamelessly. I was enjoying this wedding very much, and knew their recepetion at a meditaranean restaurant was not to be missed.

I stroll lonely into the venue, a buffet's aromas of chicken, hummus, and more filling the room. I grab a coffee and strike up a conversation with people I will never see again. You'd think we did this everyday.

Enter the bridal party. Enter The Baptistes. With all eyes on them, in their moment, a speech is made. Of all the things spoken one phrase stood out to me. With glass raised in the air Mr. Baptiste says "You're our community. We thank you."

Deep words, from a deep man.

The room fills with applause. I yell "Yeehaw!", and make my way towards the buffet.