The morning of the wedding, my husband rolled over in bed to tell me he was going to buy an extra week’s worth of food.
“You know, just in case,” he said.
The night before, as I finished the rehearsal, news broke that coronavirus had come to my state. An elementary school teacher in Lake Oswego reportedly had Oregon’s first reported case of the notorious disease. Her school was 20 miles from my house.
I looked at my always practical husband. “Um, OK,” I said, dumbfounded. “That’s probably a good idea.”
Really, I had no idea. What I did know was that in less than three hours I was doing a wedding at one of my city’s busiest hotels. Fifty guests — many of whom had flown in — would cough, sneeze, and wipe their hands right next to me.
“The virus is thought to be spread from person to person when in close contact — within about 6 feet,” reports the CDC.
My job is not the kind of job you can skip out on. No matter what, I show up for a wedding. It’s both what people pay me to do and a point of personal pride. I would rather die than disappoint a couple on their wedding day. Though, to be fair, I always meant that more figuratively than literally.
My husband and I made a list of dry goods that we’d eat whether or not we were quarantined. He apologized for his worry; Lake Oswego was just so close. I apologized for my cavalierness; I couldn’t let myself spiral on the morning of a wedding. We finished our list, kissed good morning, and then I got up and went to work.
Still kickin’
I only thought about The Virus a handful of times during the wedding. Work is a series of reminders firing on my phone in a steady, unrelenting stream. I have very little brainpower to think about anything except how to execute the next task quickly, efficiently, compassionately.
Even so, I carried hand sanitizer in my pocket. I washed my hands a little longer than normal. I tried to limit how often I touched my face after I touched my phone.
I felt a little stupid all night.
I got home from work around midnight and hesitated to kiss my husband hello. What if I had unknowingly carried back the virus? That one wedding guest had sneezed a lot. Why had I let the ecstatic couple hug me at the end of the night? By getting so caught up in their joy, had I unwittingly become Portland’s Patient Zero?
I shook my head to rid it of doomsday prophecies. I pecked my husband on the lips as he made me a late-night snack. I made sure to shower before bed.
When I lay down to sleep, I didn’t feel sick. I felt the same way I always do after a wedding: part exhausted, part exhilarated. This had been my 34th wedding. I just hoped it wasn’t my last.
If you’re a wedding vendor reading this, you might be interested in another article I put together of resources for yourself and your clients.