American weddings are SO boring.

Before last Saturday, whenever someone would casually mention nuptials, I would exclaim, "I love weddings!" and it would be the absolute truth. HOWEVER, my eyes (and ears) were recently opened to the fact that my thoughts on matrimony had been tragically limited. This Lebanese wedding reception was more chaotic, louder, and more extravagant than any I had experienced before. In this case, I had only met the bride once (she works in my dad's office) and had never even seen the groom beforehand, but I tagged along because- of course- "I love weddings."

While western weddings are mainly centered on the bride, Lebanese ceremonies place equal emphasis on the guests. Just to blend in (which, ironically, means standing out), women are expected to:

-have recent and flawless manicures/pedicures

-wax every visible inch of their arms and legs

-have their hair professionally styled (more points for extensions or hair pieces)

-wear a vividly bedazzled dress that leaves almost nothing to the imagination

-strap their feet into ludicrously high heels and actually dance (really well) in them

I loved having my nails done for less than half of what it costs in the States and having Danny the exuberant hair stylist curl my locks into a half-straight, half-wavy 'do. I didn't so much enjoy having a stern-faced woman roll hot, green, mint-scented wax onto my poor little arms and rip it all off with more strength than was suggested by her small frame. Not even the fair-haired can get away with leaving it alone in this country. She was visibly shocked when I told her that women in the U.S. don't care about arm hair, and that it was my first time to experience that lovely procedure. I'm pretty sure it'll be my last, too. But back to the wedding, which was a much more positive occasion. (By the way, I scratched those last two "requirements.")

When we arrived, my parents and I sat down at one of the many round tables that was completely PILED with food. Every type of Lebanese mezze (little appetizers) was there, and it was glorious. I sampled my favorites and tried some new dishes. Loud, charged Lebanese music was blasting in the background, and there was an anxious but excited tension as we all waited for the bride to arrive. Two talkative 6-year-old twin girls kept me entertained in the meantime.

After about an hour of chatting and dining, the music stopped. Hair pieces whipped around, dangerously close to letting go, as the guests craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds. But first, a troupe of sword dancing men in white billowy costumes burst past the entrance to the room and slid onto the dancefloor. A drummer soon followed to prepare the crowd for the main event. People started to stand up and clap in rhythm, feet tapping with anticipation.

If that wasn't impressive enough, hidden fireworks exploded around the dancers to hide them as they rushed back to the entrance. In an eruption of light and music, a few dancers paraded back onto the dancefloor with the happiest bride I have ever seen hoisted onto their shoulders. She was waving her arms in time with the drum beats, and a wild wave of noise from the guests around me received her.

I commented to a friend about how happy she and her new husband looked together, and she replied, "Yeah I know...and she actually loves this guy too!" I was a bit surprised, because I thought all brides loved their husbands. I mean, it should pretty much be a requirement. But apparently not here. I'm fortunate to have witnessed the real thing.

The rest of the night was packed with energy: dancing, clapping, and shouting. It was one of the happiest events I have ever been a part of, simply because the joy of and for the new couple was almost tangible. Everyone from teetering babies to cane-bearing grandparents was moving to the deafening music. Small groups of enthusiastic men patrolled the tables for wallflowers and lifted them high above their chairs. One of the twin girls strutted out onto the dancefloor with better rhythm and grace than me. That is not a difficult task at all, since I'm not even slightly inclined to be a dancer, but I was still impressed. Her sister was less mobile: she sat back at our table, facedown, with her hair spilling over her arms. She must have been absolutely exhausted to be able to sleep through all that noise.

The next time I tell someone "I love weddings," I'll mean it even more as I think of the intense celebration and excitement that this one brought. If I do get married one day, I'd love to incorporate some elements of Lebanese food, style, and energy into the event. There seems to be no better way to spend a wedding day than to go a little crazy with friends and family.