A Full and Heartfelt Gorilla of a Celebration

 It was Saturday morning and the day felt heavy. I had no idea it would end with a wedding gorilla.

The morning started with discovering a breathing but unconscious body on the sidewalk near my home. Other people were just walking by, looking, then looking away. I tried to walk by him too, in the hot sun, his dirty shirt, one Adidas shoe on, his pants pulled down, one arm outstretched, a delicate finger pointing, flies starting to gather, but I couldn’t. I called 911 to have the police check on him. I left before the police got there, put on their blue rubber gloves, roused him, and he wandered off. I’ve seen it too many times.

After that, an unhoused man stopped me on my dog walk to ask why people just ignore him and walk right past, and why I didn’t ignore him. I didn’t really have an answer, and he had a lot of other things to say, including how people have changed; there is no human connection anymore. He talked about God and how the devil is stronger than those in power who do evil things. I just listened as he talked, noticing his neat grey facial hair, his earring. He talked about how if you pray, you really need to mean it. God can tell if you don’t. With that, he excused himself to go get the food being handed out in the park. 


Later, hungry, we took the last parking spot at the Portuguese hall where the reception was, and could smell the carnitas as soon as we opened the car doors. And gasoline. There was a generator running, and a U-Haul truck between us and the food. I didn’t notice the generator or the truck; I was excited to see what was on the menu. My husband commented on both, wondering why there was a generator. The reason was clear later on.

But first, the ceremony. The sparsely attended ceremony at the beautiful St Joseph’s Cathedral downtown was somber. The bride, in her sparkly wedding-cake of a dress, kept her eyes lowered, chaste, and her luminous dark hair, parted in the middle, fell over her face and shoulders, so that only her nose was visible for much of the ceremony. She held her bouquet of roses, the size and shape of a watermelon, oval and large, firmly in front of her at waist level. The groom’s face was mostly somber also, and he appeared to be holding his breath. The ceremony was in Spanish. Alone on the altar with the priest, the bride and groom were engulfed by the volume of the space and the words and music echoed. When it came time for the bride to speak her vows into the microphone, her voice was that of a very young girl, high and thin, hesitant.

The people there to witness were in scattered in the massive space in groups of two or more. The woman near us was in a pale yellow sundress, the fold lines still visible. He was in a pale yellow shirt, and brand new tennis shoes the same shade of yellow.

Another woman nearby was in a dress of satin, lace and sequins in pale green. The man next to her was in a satin shirt in the same shade.

Three young women, obviously sisters, all in pale pink satin dresses of different styles, their long black hair parted in the middle and straight.

I looked around, each woman in a dress, each with a man in an undershirt, the outline of his sleeves visible under his satin shirt, the same exact color, like he was an accessory, dyed to match.

With our invitation, we had been given a palette of colors to wear, and asked to avoid wearing pink or white. When my husband went to rent a suit, I told him to make sure he didn’t look like he was going to a prom. He looked nice, without a touch of satin or ruffle. I had a very simple, well-cut pale lavender linen dress on, which I very much like but that felt like a burlap sack amidst all the, as my mom called it, “glitz” of the other guests. My mom leaned over to me and whispered, “Her dress is fancier than yours was!” By this I think she meant more sparkly.

The bride’s dress was a marvel of floof, glitter, beads, tulle, sequins, pearls, and optical illusions, hiding an almost 8-month pregnancy that the priest was unaware of. Only from the side, and if you knew to look for it, could you tell the young couple had very little time together alone before they were a family. Her dress burst out and down from the waist, defying gravity with hoops and making her look as if she were levitating as she walked. The veil and train of the dress swept the ground at least six feet behind her. It was so spectacular it was difficult to take all in at once, which might have been the point.


During the ceremony, a man and woman brought up a glass box with crystals in it. The priest blessed the box, and the couple opened the box to reveal a long rosary, with two large loops joined by a small length with a cross. The couple lay a large loop over both the bride and the groom’s heads, so that it draped across one shoulder and across their back like a crystal sash that chained them together.

At the reception, I eagerly headed toward the food.

There were two buffets set up on folding tables outside. One side was carnitas, flour tortillas, fresh salsa made with radish, nopales, and cilantro, and both red and green salsas. The other side had pasta, cubed chicken breast, white, thick Alfredo sauce, Texas toast garlic bread, and a green salad. I was at a Mexican wedding, I stuck to the Mexican food. The bride’s mother, in an elegant burgundy satin wrap dress, spooned some carnitas on my plastic plate.

I wish someone had told me this was not the entire dinner. When trays upon trays of fresh-cut watermelon, strawberries, cantaloupe, and pineapple, flanked by large shakers of Tajin, were set out, a line formed next to the lit-up dance floor. I watched as people piled their plates high and then added generous amounts of tajin. I did the same. I wish someone had told me this was not the entire dinner. Next, a line formed along another table and I jumped up to investigate. It was not cake time; the white towering layer cake was near me, and it hadn’t been touched except for one spot on the side where a small finger had poked it to see if it was real. I had the same question, but I could smell the sugar when I got close to it. No, this was something else. A bowl was provided, and then a vat of jicama, a big tray of peeled, seeded, and chopped cucumber, and a tray of mango. Next to this were a bag of little light brown balls, a plastic barrel-shaped container of white strips with tongs, and a small bag of chips. I watched a young man tear open a bag of chips and pile a lot of the white strips into it, and dig in with a fork. I thought at first this was similar to Fritos in a bag with chili and fixings. But as I watched, I saw people fill the bowl with jicama, cucumber, mango, several scoops of the brown balls (which were Japanese peanuts, labeled on the bag), put a couple of generous glugs of Tapatio hot sauce from large bottles, top it with the white strips, grab a bag of the chips, and go back to their table. I, of course, intended to do the same until I saw the white strips were pickled pork rinds, and I did everything else but skipped those. Back at my table, I asked a woman sitting with us for help in English. How to eat this? What to do? What’s it called? Well, you open the bag of tortilla chips, a salsa-flavored variety, add them to the bowl, and eat. It translates roughly as “crazy fruit nachos.” It was fresh, it had layers of crunchy, it was salty, it was sweet, and it was screaming spicy. I was just fine without the sour of the pork rinds. It was addictive and very much a dish greater than the sum of its crazy parts. It paired very well with a cold draft Corona with lime.

Why didn’t anyone tell me this was not the end of the meal?

As my attention was finally torn from the table, I looked up and saw that things were happening in the room. It got darker. The dance floor lit up. Disco balls spun and colored lights in the shapes of flowers climbed the walls and ceiling. Music blared from car-sized speakers. The MC’s booming, reverberating voice was imploring people to do things in Spanish. There was the bride and groom’s first dance, the father/daughter dance. The bride got teary-eyed in her wedding cake dress and blotted at her eyes. There was the money dance, where men came prepared with money in a chain of five or six bills to pin on the bride’s dress and then dance with her for a couple of minutes before the next guest came up with his money. The women did the same, pinning bills on the groom and dancing with him. Towards the end of this dance, all the men were encouraged to get up and go to the dance floor. Someone insistently pulled at my husband to get up and join, so he followed. All the men circled the groom tightly, dancing and squishing in like a tight mosh pit, and I could see that Dan was not expecting to be pinned inside the circle with full body contact. Then the groom seemed to pop up out of the middle, where he was held up by many hands, into the air, his body horizontal. He was carried around the room like this, by a group of men who while carrying him around the room took his belt off, his shoes, then his socks. He flopped around in the air, helpless, with a big smile on his face. When he was carried back to the dance floor, he was thrown high into the air by the men, five times, with everyone counting loudly.

Then it was the bride’s turn. I was worried she was going to be manhandled like the groom. She sat in a chair and was lifted into the air by many hands, and threw the bouquet to many eager young women jostling and crouching for position.

The bride was placed back down on the dance floor in her chair, where it was now time for the garter to be removed from her leg. A blindfold was placed around the groom’s head, and the music changed. He did a kind of seductive, slower dance toward the bride, blindfolded, toward her chair. The DJ made a big show of checking if he could see through the blindfold, and in that time, a male guest was brought up to sit in the bride’s chair. The bride stood next to him, and her dress was arranged around him. The groom then danced toward the bride once more, much to the laughter and encouragement of the crowd. Just when the groom was feeling around trying to find the bride’s legs under the dress, the male guest jumped up and ran off the dance floor. Another male guest pulled the groom back by his feet, along the floor, somehow with a garter in his hand. The men cheered and gathered to catch the garter, somewhat less enthusiastically than the women catching the bouquet.

Next, the bride donned a wide-brimmed black hat. With a giant papier-mache Don Julio tequila bottle in one arm and the groom’s belt in the other hand, she danced around the groom, who was himself dancing with a broom and sweeping. She playfully hit him with his own belt as they danced around. When this song was over, the DJ announced “Eloté!” My god, more food. 

I love eloté, the Mexican street corn with butter and cheese. A large portion of the crowd headed outside. I prodded my husband, wanting to join for the corn. He was sitting, taking in the show, and maybe not as eager to get up and join the others should it turn into another mosh-pit dance. Suddenly, the music got even louder, and people poured back into the building, each carrying an oversized prop. A papier-mache bull entered the room first, carried by the father of the bride above his head, dipping and dancing. Then someone carrying a giant turkey, complete with feathers. Another giant turkey appeared. There were large, wide baskets decorated with flowers, carried on heads. Then a papier-mache bride and groom, each at least twelve feet tall, came in through the doorway, joining the dance circling around the dance floor. The papier-mache tequila bottle made another appearance. Soon, almost every guest was dancing in a slowly moving circle around the dance floor, each holding some kind of prop: a bandana, a fan, an animal, or a costume. One guest who didn’t have a prop danced with his chair held on his head. The groom had a turkey hat. Someone in a full-body turkey suit came in. Some of the women and men carrying baskets were throwing candy from them at the kids, who scrambled around on the floor. The music started slowly and built up faster and faster. The props and the general fiesta vibe carried over into several songs. As I watched from the sidelines, one of the guests grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor to join in. I did my best to imitate the dance steps, and then ducked back out to continue enjoying the spectacle. Someone in a full lizard (gecko?) costume joined the dance for a while. Then, a person in a gorilla costume entered the dance floor. It was a large gorilla complete with fierce-looking fangs. It seemed to maul the bride and groom for a while before exiting. I’ve never seen wedding photographers having so much fun. They danced and took selfies with the gorilla.

It was around this time in the celebration that whispers spread through the guests that mole was served. Oh hell, not more food. Dan went out and got a chicken leg in mole. All I could do was dip the tines of my gold plastic fork into the sauce to taste it. Delicious.

Soon after, the DJ announced something, and then fifty or more long, colorful balloons were handed out to people on the dance floor. Again, most of the guests were on their feet, eager to participate. It was a line dance that every guest knew, danced with a balloon held up in one hand, pointed to the ceiling. After this dance, light-up tubes and headbands were passed around, and then a person in a huge, round, white teddy bear costume came out on the dance floor. It was soon joined by a neon green dancing teddy bear. Most of the guests still had balloons, and they surrounded the teddy bears and hit them with them.

After this, chocolates and candies were passed out by various family members, followed by massive hunks of wedding cake balancing on paper plates. The bride and groom made the first symbolic cut with a machete. Family members served the cake.

I would learn later that the song that started the fiesta portion of the celebration was El guajolote. The turkey. The turkey dance is an ancient tradition, dating back to pre-Hispanic Mexico. The turkey was a prized animal in Indigenous Mexican culture, and a turkey was a special gift to the bride and her family, a gesture of wealth and goodwill. It’s festive but also deeply symbolic of bringing something important to the union.


The dance in which the groom sweeps with a broom while the bride holds the tequila bottle is called El Baile del Mandilon, a playful celebration of equality in marriage. It symbolizes love, humor and a modern take on shared responsibilities.

Other dances were El Paso del Monkey and El Baile del Gorila. Both songs are invitations to dance like a wild primate and the lyrics contain instructions on how to do the dance. It is as ubiquitous as YMCA at American weddings. The dance with the balloons was La Vibora de la Mar. The movement of the snake and the sea symbolizes the ups and downs and unpredictable nature of marriage, as well as the challenges the couple will face together.

We were exhausted but hesitant to leave, in case we missed something. We were getting up to leave when a song came on that was a rock/cumbia version of River Dance. Every guest in the hall yelled and sang along, even the elders. I wish I knew what song it was. My phone was dead from taking photos and video and asking my phone what song was playing, and trying unsuccessfully to translate this or that. And then the generator in the parking lot ran out of gas and the amplified sound cut out.

I had an absolute blast even though I had no idea what any of the chaos meant or what was coming next. But I could feel the joy and love in the room. The blasting cumbia music, the turkey dance, gorilla, sea snakes, teddy bears, and mandilon made for an incredibly fun wedding. And now that I know some of the songs and traditions, I wish I had paid even more attention to what was happening. Honestly, it was difficult to keep track, even with a notebook and a pen in my hands. All of the seemingly chaotic things I watched had ancient, beautiful meaning underneath them. For this undocumented young man, whose mother could not attend the wedding because she could not get a visa to visit the US, and his very pregnant wife, I felt the joy and the celebration of tradition, and the strength of their community. For this young couple facing many struggles in their new marriage, this was a full and heartfelt gorilla of a celebration.

The mother of the bride was the one to greet me and serve me food when I arrived. As we left, she was carrying around a heavy case of water, making sure all the departing guests were hydrated. With a community and family like this, this young couple will be supported as they become newlyweds and new parents, in this time and place in the USA.