A marriage of weddings and traffic jams

A marriage of weddings and traffic jams

JAKARTA (JP): Jakartans, instead of attempting to avoid
traffic jams and standing in queues, have adapted themselves
creatively in their social lives. An elite wedding in Jakarta,
for example, is not just a chance to wish a young couple a happy
life together, but it is also a golden opportunity for standing
in line.

Recently, ominous-looking envelopes containing invitations
arrived at the homes of friends. On a full sheet of paper,
engraved in gold and embossed in a floral pattern, the invitation
respectfully requested their presence at a wedding reception to
be held at the Jakarta Convention Center's Assembly Hall. Unknown
to the hosts, a friend arranged for me to go along, uninvited.
"Go" is probably not the right word.

The bride and the groom were supposed to be a "king and
queen", or at least like "heads of state" for that evening. For
the guests, however, the trials began with their arrival in
Senayan, where the cars formed such a long line from the outer
entrance to the grounds that it took nearly an hour to reach the
door of the hall. The exclusive invitations had apparently not
only reached my friends, but 4,999 other people, whose arrival
coincided with those of the cars of visitors to an industrial
exhibition and busses for T-shirted participants in a nearby
youth rally.

Immediately on leaving the car, we met up with a row of
advertising displays masquerading as floral panel arrangements.
The good wishes for the bride and groom, spelled out in plastic
foam, were nearly dwarfed by the names of the donor companies and
families. We wondered idly if they were placed around the
entrance according to the commercial or personal rank of the
donors.

A blast of cool air welcomed us to the hall, and we were
directed to one of two long tables where the guest books were
manned by ladies in long, formal black gowns, the fuschia tops
held by spaghetti straps in the case of the younger ones, or by
something more substantial for the more matronly. They were the
welcoming committee and, besides letting us sign the guest book,
they handed each guest a small thank-you packet. Thus armed with
our party favor, we joined an imposing line stretching across the
marbled hall, waiting to present our congratulations to the
couple whose official wedding portrait, strategically placed on
an easel near the entrance, reminded us who we had come to see.

But first we waited in line.

Minutes and more minutes passed before we could even glimpse
the celebrants on stage in the adjoining ballroom. If we were
lucky, we met friends who were also enduring the wait. Sometimes
an acquaintance passed by, emerging from the ballroom.
Fortunately, there was other entertainment. A video team provided
shots of a band with its vocalists, to accompany the guests at
the hall. Lest we forgot what we were waiting for, the crew
turned spotlights on the wedding couple and their parents as they
greeted the guests far ahead of us in the line, and we could see
on the giant screen in the hall how radiant the bride was, the
proud look of the groom and their well-dressed parents.

We climbed up the steps to the stage carefully, mindful of the
video camera which might be transmitting our ascent to the silver
screens outside, and shook the hands of the groom's parents,
those of the couple (both still amazingly radiant) and of the
bride's parents. Having barely had time to utter our
congratulations for the happy occasion, we descend to the
ballroom floor.

My friend had wisely chosen to eat before leaving home;
usually there was another long line at the buffet -- who knew how
many Jakartan wedding guests fainted from hunger before the
completion of the ceremony? This time, the hosts had
decentralized the food service, and we stopped at one of the
dessert tables for a snack.

The wedding cake, constructed four meters high, dominated the
ballroom. The layers of cake were poised on rows and columns and
arcades of milk glasses. As we left, aides presented company
calendars; not a memento featuring the wedding couple, but the
family's firm.

Fleeing to the car, about to join another long line of traffic
on our way home, my friend spotted a young couple whose wedding
she had attended a few months ago. "Well, at your wedding," she
recalls, "there was such a crowd, I think we stood in line for
hours."

The newlyweds exchange proud glances. "Why, thank you so
much!"

-- Mary Winters