Denise Watt

I must be getting old.

Now in my third year at this institution, I have come to realize that the majority of my friends are graduating, getting married or both-signs of “growing up.”

This summer I attended a mere three weddings. I know many of you attended more. Even this fall, my 2005 calendar is again filling with dates of nuptials of friends tying the knot in the near future.

I enjoy going to weddings. You always meet new people, and more often than not, have a really good time celebrating.

I have a memento from a wedding which I took part in this summer. It is a plant sitting on my coffee table. Yes, a plant.

It all began with the traditional bridal bouquet toss-that ritual which nobody believes in, but you can’t afford to not take part in (in case of the slim chance the myth that you may become the next to be married holds true).

Normally, I don’t take part in the toss, but at that point in the evening, I felt it was my duty as a bridesmaid.

One thing bothers me about this tradition. First of all, the announcer (very loudly) announces that everyone must clear the dance floor and all the single girls line up for the toss (just in case anyone in attendance was wondering who we were).

Any girl who has ever lined up for one of these deals knows that it can get pretty ugly. Just imagine a large number of women in wedding finery and dangerous footwear (i.e. heels) fighting over a bouquet of flowers. Often there is ripping of hair, loss of shoes-ok, maybe it’s not quite that bad, but combining girls and the possibility of an upcoming marriage gets intense.

As I took my place in anticipation of the event, I realized that I was already at a disadvantage. Even with heels, I stood at a mere five feet and a few inches while my competition towered above me, nearing heights of five-foot-five and above.

I decided that my strategy would be snatch and run (given the chance that I would actually be (1) coordinated enough to catch the darn thing and (2) able to fight off any competitors.)

After much anticipation, the moment finally arrived and the bride launched the bouquet from near the punch table. As I looked up, I realized I was in almost perfect position to catch it. Then, as I reached up, a tall girl did the same and grabbed the flowers long before they fell within my grasp.

Instantly disappointed, I did manage to get my hands on the bouquet and ripped out a rose and some assorted greenery. I guess my gotta-grab-the-bouquet instincts must have kicked in. I proudly held up my winnings, as I had never before caught a bridal bouquet of any kind.

I had to laugh – maybe that’s as close to getting married as I’ll ever get.

And so, as a symbol of triumph, I kept a piece of ivy from that bouquet. It took root in a glass of water on my coffee table, and now I plan to give it a little more permanency by planting it in a pot. Maybe it will serve as a reminder that anything – whether it is marriage, graduation or finding a job – is possible, no matter how slim the chances may seem.

Denise Watt is a junior journalism major.