July 2003
Today is the big wedding.
In preparation, someone has chalked a pink line straight down the center of the pedestrian bridge, all the way from the east steps to the west elevator, creating two distinct aisles - one for the wedding guests, another for foot traffic. A trellis arch leans against the north handrail, decorated with vines and pink flowers. Blonde toddlers run around in tuxedos and pastel dresses. The best man is already tipsy, guzzling his fifth or sixth beer, lighting another cigarette, hitting on women who pass by.
My husband and I watch from our balcony, not quite sure whether to laugh or run down and clean up the scattered beer cans. Who in the hell thought it was a good idea to get married here? On a diesel-choked bridge? In a cheesy apartment courtyard? The wedding party stops almost every pedestrian, and none of the disabled residents at the Yards can access the bridge's elevators.
Three days ago, the bride called me a bitch when I stepped onto the bridge after a long walk home. She was standing in a huddle with several khaki-wearing, fake-tanned women. Excuse me, I said. They glared. Excuse me, I said again.
I didn't know it was a wedding rehearsal. Photographers and tourists hang out on the bridge all the time, snapping pictures of the Union Station clocktower. I was balancing a heavy grocery bag on one hip, trying to squeeze by, when the bride muttered the insult under her breath.
Later, I learned that she drove in from the suburbs, a wealthy district far away. Had she not noticed syringes littered in the grass beside the steps? Graffiti? Drug deals? Threats and sneers all along NW 5th and 6th? This is not a bad neighborhood, but it has its problems. A strange backdrop for a wedding - a rich wedding, anyway.
From the balcony, I secretly wish for an Amtrak train to screech into the station - or better, a chain of dirty freight cars, industrial orange and yellow. A garish backdrop for the valentine-candy bridesmaid gowns. I want the trellis to tip over, the best man to pass out, the neighborhood to get the last word.