A Thanksgiving Wedding

When the wedding invitation came in November, it was surprising. The surprise was because it was sudden and unexpected. The Marco Beach Boys and Girls have always been fortunate about meeting steadfast friends from around the world, but when invitations began arriving with stamps from Scotland, the excitement of overseas travel was unstoppable. Thanksgiving had never been like this.

There were, however, problems for the Marco Islanders. The first and foremost obstacle was money. The second was modern travel. Even though the flight would be off-season and in late November, it was still expensive, and no one wanted to think about being crammed in the back of a packed airplane and sitting in a tiny seat for eight hours. The next problem was Thanksgiving. The Scottish wedding festivities were to begin on Thanksgiving Day.

Thanksgiving is huge to Americans, but in other parts of the world, the fourth Thursday in November is just another day in autumn and the beginning of the onset of winter. Almost all the islanders who were admiring the gold calligraphy were sad. Holiday plans with family would not allow a big trip away from home. Thanksgiving had never been transatlantic, but islanders Renee and Chris decided to go.

On the plane, the Marco couple began to deliberate about where they were going and what they really knew about the upcoming bride and groom and the wedding weekend on the other side of an ocean.

Everyone knew that Karen and Stewart were from Scotland. They were friendly, fun, and had been working on Marco for the 18-month length of a visa, but other than receiving their wedding invitations, not much information was available. After accepting the invitation, however, cryptic text messages begin arriving via cell phone.

There were requests for clothing sizes and unusual travel information. The airliner would land in Glasgow and the Marco couple would find a greeter waiting with their names. A commuter plane would then fly them to a remote airport at the very northeastern end of Scotland.

When Renee and Chris met Ian and found out he was the pilot and the only other passenger for the flight over much of Scotland, tension and white knuckles were on the rise as the little airplane began climbing over the Scottish Highlands, clear air turbulence, and some of the most beautiful scenery anywhere.

When the plane landed against a buffeting wind, the Marco couple said goodbye to their pilot and met Mac and his new Land Rover\SUV. When the drive started into the second hour, a sleepy Renee and Chris began to get curious. “How much further?” was the first question. 

“Och!” Mac began with his strong Scottish brogue. “Another hour is all.”

“Where are we going?” was the next query as November sleet began to batter the Scottish windshield wipers.

“We’re going to the farm,” Mac spoke over his shoulder.

“The wedding is on a farm?”

“Aye,”

“How big is the farm?” Renee asked innocently.

“We have twelve tractors!”

“Will we be staying at a farmhouse?”

“No, lass,” Mac laughed. “All the guests will be staying at the castle.”

“The castle?” Renee and Chris asked in a chorus.

When the castle came into view, it was breathtaking. There were ancient watchtowers in ruins alongside well-kept stone turrets with warm light spilling out above a huge gate and immaculate grounds that were as big as a hotel. At least fifty cars were visiting the old fortress where snow was falling in the twilight of sunset.

Inside the castle, Renee and Chris met their Scottish friends from Marco and went to their room, where Scottish wedding attire was waiting. There was traditional Highlands clothing for the next four days and an aggressive agenda. All the guests were to dress formally for dinner and cocktails were to begin in one hour. Tartan dresses were waiting for the women and kilts, ties, vests and dress shirts for the men. Chris had never worn a skirt before. Thanksgiving in Florida was never like this.

When the travelers from Marco found the great hall and a roaring fireplace big enough to roast a car, over a hundred enthusiastic guests were drinking whiskey in the traditional formal dress. The evening began to blur before huge tables of smoked salmon and rare roast beef, and as a troop of bagpipers began to play, almost endless toasts were lifting glasses to honor the impending bride and groom. Through the Highlands fog, the Marco couple was reminded it was rude to not to drink to every toast. There had never been a Thanksgiving like this.

The following days the itinerary was busy. There was daily horseback riding and grouse shooting on the moors. There were enough shotguns firing that most would believe there was a nearby war, and throughout the days of horses and hounds, laughter, and eating delicacies of mostly unknown origins, the enthusiastic people of Scotland were extending to everyone the warmest welcome possible.

On the afternoon before the wedding, the itinerary simply offered: Please attend “The Blackening.” Everyone soon learned the groom was “to be given escort” to a giant fire pit that was, for the first time, no longer burning. In times of dry weather the groom was to be wetted, but as it was snowing, the groom was already damp before he was bathed in cooking lard, soot, ash, grouse feathers, and many unmentionables that might have been salmon skins and cow dung. The groom was then “given escort” in an open truck for all to see and smell. Thanksgiving on Marco was never like this.

On the day of the wedding, the bride, the groom and all of the guests and family were in attendance at one of Scotland’s most formal and sacred traditions. Before the wedding and the most formal event of their lives, a nervous Marco Chris asked his girlfriend Renee about how to behave at the ultra-formal nuptials. “Just remember,” Renee gave the warning. “There is only a slight difference between looking relaxed and looking stupid!”

Tom Williams is a Marco Islander and the author of two books: “Lost and Found” and “Surrounded by Thunder - the Story of Darrell Loan and the Rocket Men.” Both books are available on Kindle and Nook.