We had just finished watching a hobbit-like man dressed as Jesus ordain the couple.
"You may now kiss the bride," he proclaimed to the groom and then turned to the crowd, "You may now all kiss the bride." Everyone hooted with joy. It was a polyamorous group. Most of us had kissed each-other's partners already.
After Jesus wed the couple, they scaled up an eight-meter tower that penetrated the playa's dusty atmosphere. They were planning to bungee jump off of it.
"They're gonna break their necks," a man with a Bruce Lee build murmured, his eyes turned toward the soft amber patch of sky. Other friends scaled the tower with the couple, walkie-talkies on, frantically preparing the cables for the jump.
A freckle-faced girl dressed as a kitten nervously bit at her spotted paws. A woman who looked like a young Cher turned to face the opposite direction and watched the barren desert. "Why are they doing this shit? Don't put me in that negative energy, dude."
Half the crowd was stressed that a cable would snap and one of them would die, and the other half was bewildered in delirious awe. Everyone was under the influence of psychedelics. It is not easy to tie one's shoes on 150 micrograms of acid, never mind scaling a tower to bungee off of it.
We watched the bride leap first. She seemed to float toward the Earth with such grace it could not be considered a fall; it was the way a ballerina lands a jump. Gravity was her friend. The whole thing seemed practiced, rehearsed, steady.
The groom was next, and he paused at the edge of the tower, his face waxy and pale. The crowd cheered for him. All of the groomsmen were dressed as mermen, and they wiggled their scaled legs for him. His best friend waved a flag for him, it had printed pictures of them holding each other by the waist while wearing cowboy hats and leather boots, Brokeback Mountain style.
A bodybuilder in a golden crown and peacock leggings played the trumpet. The sun was setting, and the air turned blush. The groom held his breath, and sprang forward. It happened in slow motion; his feet kissed the Earth, and a smile of success broke his serious face. The newlyweds kissed, and the groom looked at the bride with an uncomplicated tenderness.
I could not think of a better metaphor for love than bungee jumping off a tower on LSD. Love is risk. Love is dangerous. Love is free-falling and not knowing whether the ground below will catch you or shatter your ribcage. Love is saying yes to life, and love is accepting loss. Love is a conscious decision to jump into the unknown.
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