Page 38 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
I looked at Sean. His eyes shone in amusement.
“It can’t be, can it?” I asked, wanting to giggle. “It’s not aStarWars–themed wedding?”
“Look at Uncle Jonathan,” Sean hissed, barely able to speak for laughing now.
The man walking Rachel down the aisle was dressed in what looked like a monk’s habit—a long brown hooded tunic, knotted at the waist with rope.
“I think he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Sean squeaked, his hand covering his mouth to try and conceal his mirth from the approaching Jedi Knight.
Following Princess Leia and Obi-Wan were the bridesmaids, two of them dressed as Ewoks, and the other, an older girl, as Queen Padmé from the laterStarWarsfilms.
We watched in amazement as the bridal procession passed us. Sean craned his head around the end of the pew to get a better view down the aisle.
“Who is the groom dressed as?” I asked, unable to see clearly through the people in front of me, one of whom had come as Jar-Jar Binks and was wearing extremely tall headgear.
“I think he’s Han Solo,” Sean said, whispering. “Oh my God, guess who the best man is?”
I tried to look through the sea of costumes and caught a glimpse of something gold shimmering up ahead. “Not C-3PO, surely?”
“It surely is.” Sean leaned his head back toward mine. “Shouldn’t it really be Chewbacca, though, wasn’t he Han’s best mate?”
I smiled at Sean. “I thought you didn’t know anything about movies?”
“Maybe some I do. Anyway, everyone knowsStarWars.”
“I guess.”
“I suppose we can let them off the Chewbacca thing. After all, who’s going to be daft enough to dress up as him? The suit would be stifling inside.”
I nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe this, Sean. I’ve been to loads of weddings, but never anything like this before. I mean, what’s next—the vicar dressed as Darth Vader?”
Sean took another look. “How did you guess?”
“What? You’re kidding, let me see.” I leaned across Sean to take a peek. And indeed, up ahead conducting the ceremony was Darth Vader himself, in a long black cloak and full head mask.
I grinned, then realized I was still lying over Sean’s lap, so I hurriedly pulled myself up again.
“Sorry,” I whispered in embarrassment.
“No worries,” Sean said, and our eyes held each other’s again for the briefest of moments. Then we noticed that the rest of the congregation was standing, and it was time for the first hymn. Well it wasn’t actually a hymn, we all sang “Super Trouper” byAbba. (Except it was written “Super ‘Storm’ Trooper” on the Order of Service.)
TheStar Warstheme continued throughout the ceremony. The rings were brought out on a silver cushion carried by a full-size remote controlled R2-D2. Then it was Yoda’s turn to give us a reading, based on his own philosophies and teachings. The part of Yoda was played by one of Sean’s cousins—he crouched down behind the pulpit with his hand stuffed inside a children’s puppet of the wise Jedi.
Thepiecederesistanceof the whole ceremony, though, came during the signing of the registers, when we were treated to a reenactment of a classic fight scene from one of the films. Obviously Darth Vader was a little too busy just now signing paperwork to be fighting Luke Skywalker, so Darth Maul took his place in the battle of the light sabers—in full red and black makeup.
When the battle of good against evil had been won and the registers had been signed, the happy couple walked back down the aisle through an archway of millennium stormtroopers, each holding a light sabre above their head.
“Well, that was certainly different,” I commented, as we emerged into the cold February air once more.
“Different is certainlyoneof the words I’d use to describe it, yes,” Sean said, squinting into the bright winter sun. He pulled a pair of silver sunglasses from his pocket and the Brad PittOcean’s Elevenlook was now complete. I swallowed hard.
I looked around at the guests emerging from the church behind us to try and take my mind off it. “Oh my God, Sean,” I said, spying a rather large woman standing not far away. “Lookat all the trouble that woman has gone to—she’s well padded up under that dress. What a sense of humor, eh? Jabba the Hutt does M&S! Brilliant!”
“That’s Great-aunt Evie,” Sean said, looking to where I was pointing. “And I’m afraid to say she’s not actually in fancy dress.”
“Oops. Sorry.” My face flushed the color of my dress once more. I turned in the other direction. “Oh look, Sean, thereisa Chewbacca here—and he’s waving at you.”
Sean turned around as Chewbacca and his escort—a female Jedi knight—began to walk toward us.
