I didn’t get out of bed at 4 a.m. to watch William and Kate get married, but, oddly, I did dream about it. I was in a hotel room, waiting for the wedding parade to come by, only it was the Hotel St. Francis in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I looked down from the second floor at the street and saw a marching band, dressed in red, but all dressed differently. Then came a group in odd costumes, like mummers or Mardi Gras krewes. Then, in the way of dreams, I was suddenly on the sidewalk with my camera. I was the first one there, but as others gathered around me, a man accused me of trying to cut in front and pushed me back away from the street. His face filled my view, and he shouted at me. That was enough of that dream.
A nasty comment or two turned up online about the royal nuptials. Called the royals parasites and whatnot. It’s remarkable how venomous people can get over the behavior of others when it has nothing to do with them. It might be legitimate to talk about how much money was spent on the show, but a lot of merchants and hoteliers have to be pretty happy right about now. The carriages were splendid, the horses pranced, the shakos shook, and armor gleamed. Little boy pages were dressed like toy soldiers, and the little girls had flowers in their hair. And how happy the people were, waving flags and cheering for their prince and his lady. Pageantry. Fairy tale stuff. It’s all right with me.