We sat in a small court room of the kind that probably exists in few places in the United States at this point, in an area of the ornate Philadelphia City Hall that still has lit hallway signs of the early-20th century variety.
Our room was "Orphan's Court." Five other couples sat waiting to be married, a privilege that can be enjoyed for free in Philadelphia on two Thursdays of every month. There was very little talking. Two couples were alone, and dressed unremarkably. One attractive young black couple laughed quietly with the mother/future-mother-in-law. One couple with three guests looked for spots to take pictures. And one couple, dressed as though for a quinceañera, waited with a very young girl. I was the only guest of my two friends, an Englishman and a Venezuelan, formerly married to a Puerto Rican and an Illini, respectively.
I took their picture in front of the old wide-armed jury chairs with the metallic numbers 1 through 12 screwed onto the seat-backs like street numbers on suburban mailboxes.
When we entered the old judge's chambers (desk removed but old hat-stand still there), the ceremony happened so fast that I could only squeeze off a couple shots, this being the blurry one [above]. The litany was standard, sickness-and-health, etc., but with all the religious references omitted. The bride took 3 attempts to correctly repeat the judge's muffled pronunciation of "I thee wed," which she didn't understand at first. They all laughed.
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