the shuttle

A friend is getting married next week, somewhere warm. The invitation says the shuttle to the ceremony leaves at a quarter past three, "sharp".

I've decided the shuttle is a fretful thing. No calm bus ever tells others "sharp". It has one job, which is to carry a crowd of people in uncomfortable shoes from where they are to where they promised to be; it probably worries about the ones who are still finding their sunglasses.

I think a wedding is mostly a shuttle. Two people are saying, in front of everyone, that they'll be at the same place at the same time for a very long while. That's a lot to ask of anyone. The vows are lovely, but the real promise is the time. "I'll be here at a quarter past three, and I'll be here after that too."

The guests are the ones in the seats. We don't drive. We just ride along, checking our phones, and are a little moved when we get there without quite knowing why. I think it's because we watched something arrive on time, and that's rarer than it should be.

I'll go early. Someone should be standing at the curb when the shuttle pulls in, so it knows it was waited for. So it knows it was thought of. Every punctual thing deserves that once in a while.

When it's all over, the same shuttle will take us all back, a little sunburned and a little quieter. But two people won't need that shuttle. They'll already be where they promised to be.