It’s almost here.
Prince Harry and royal bride-to-be Meghan Markle will be tying the knot on Saturday. I happened to be stuck in a waiting room this morning and The Good Morning America hosts couldn’t get enough of the topic, talking about everything from the length of Markle’s wedding gown and train to possible guests and dignitaries. For the record, Princess Diana’s antique lace wedding gown had a 25-foot train; Kate Middleton, now the Duchess of Cambridge, had a 9-foot train; and the length of Markle’s train will be anybody’s guess.
The anticipation, the excitement, the hype, I can’t wait.
Okay, please, please, please note the sarcasm. I’ll be up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, but I won’t be turning on the television to check out Markle’s veil or train. I really could’t care less.
I have nothing against the royal family or their individual stories, the hype machine that’s promoting the weddingn ad nauseam or even the fashion trends that will be replicated for months after the wedding, I’m not an ugly American. I just don’t care. I guess I can understand why some people care—and everyone lived happily ever after, right—but I just can’t generate the interest.
I have a sensitive side. I don’t have any problems admitting that I cry at weddings, funerals, and funny animal videos. I don’t wish them any ill will. I just won’t be tuning into the massive extravaganza that it will become.
The United States doesn’t really have a strong comparison to the Royal family. Some might point to the Kennedy’s and Camelot or even the Bush Family’s reign in Washington. Some might even point to pop culture phenomenons like the Kardashians or Beyoncé and Jay-Z. Others might point to wealthy business men and women or even sports stars like Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan. Truth be told, I care even less about them.
And for what it’s worth, I love learning about the United Kingdom and how the cultures in England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are different from what we know in the U.S., yet so very similar.
I have a work friend in England who every year likes to poke fun of me via conference call for taking time off from work for what he calls “Rebel’s Day.” He’s obviously joking about the Fourth of July and our Independence Day. In turn, I like to poke fun of him for taking off so many bank holidays. Forget about taking off the entire month of July and August.
Give me the odds
I just can’t get into the hype. The total price tag for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s big day has been estimated to cost more than $45 million. The Royal Family will spare no expense. It’s not my money. I don’t have a problem. It just doesn’t touch me.
I’m not a betting man. I’ve been to a casino just once in my life. I fret over the dollar or two it takes to buy a lottery ticket and the millions of people who figuratively and litterally throw away their hard-earned dollars on these games, but one part of the wedding does sort of interest me: You can actually bet on who will walk Markle down the aisle? Oddsmakers are placing the best odds right now that it will end up being her mother. Other betting options: Who will perform at the Wedding Reception? Elton John? The Spice Girls? Will Harry be clean-shaven, with a 5 o’clock shadow, or with a full-grown beard? What name will the two go by? The Duke and Duchess of Sussex perhaps?
Oh the betting options.
No, like I wrote, I’ll be tuning out the wedding. I suspect my wife or kids will inevitably turn on the wall-to-wall television coverage at some point Saturday morning. When they do, I know exactly what I’m going to suggest we watch instead: Netflix’s The Crown or HBO’s Game of Thrones.
If we’re going to get hyped up for palace intrigue, then let’s go all the way. In the meantime, congratulations to the happy couple.