Our youngest daughter Barbra got married over the weekend.

It was gorgeous, happy, nerve wracking, nostalgic, exciting, and wondrous. Both families waded through months of details to create a few magical moments that none will soon forget.

But no matter how much you plan, there are always those oddities--those spur-of-the-moment incidents that pop up from nowhere and add to the richness of the event.

Like when the bride and her bridesmaids gathered in the giant ballroom wing of the hotel to take pictures with the photographer before the ceremony. Decorated with a lone conversational grouping—sofa, cocktail table, and a couple of chairs, the area was empty.

Except for a fortyish man—passed out cold on the couch and looking like he was sleeping off a big one.

The girls giggled and gathered around.

Wedding aside, they couldn’t pass up a golden photo op. The six bridesmaids held their index fingers to their mouths as if saying, “shh," while Barbra, in full white gown and train, carried her bouquet and bent over the stranger, pretending to kiss him.

Picture taken, the group scattered, and the star never stirred.

Next it was time for business.

The rabbi arrived and the marriage license needed to be handled and signed. As the bridal party and out-of-town guests lined the room, the witnesses were called.

But the license was nowhere to be found.

Barbra forgot to bring it.

Suddenly numb, I stared at the rabbi as if someone had taken away my Bloomies’ charge for a year, but he assured me that although he was breaking the law, the show would go on.

And it did.

The ceremony started, the vows were taken, and no one knew the difference—much less the state of Florida.

After a lively evening of eating, drinking, and dancing, the bride and groom waved their last goodbyes and made their way through a veil of bubbles blown into their path.

Finally over, they stood outside their honeymoon suite. Pulling the key from his pocket, Matt tried the lock but it didn't budge.

His cellphone had desensitized the magnetic strip.

Reluctantly, the groom hurried down to the lobby for a replacement while the bride, still dressed in glowing white, tried to sit on her train and waited.

She heard a noise and looked up. A drunk swaggered toward her carrying a bag of peanuts.

He stopped when he saw her.

“Did you go to a wedding tonight?” he asked.
She gave him a sidelong look. “Yes.”
“Did you have fun?”
“Yes.”
“Can I help you with something?” he slurred.

Barbra assured him she was fine when Matt reentered the hall holding the key and saving their wedding night.

So our daughter Barbra got married last Saturday.

I found the marriage license at home the next day and hand delivered it to the rabbi Monday morning.

But the weekend lingers. It was more than I ever imagined, and today, it's legal to boot.