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When I was 10, I was the ring-bearer for a couple in my church. Everything about the ceremony was pretty by-the-numbers except for one thing: When the rear doors to the sanctuary opened, instead of striding down the aisle to "Here Comes the Bride," the bride launched into Elvis's "Hawaiian Wedding Song" in a quavery, slightly off-key vibrato (imagine a 30-something woman singing like Norma Zimmer, the "Champagne Lady" from The Lawrence Welk Show). The groom looked on in what can only be described as horror, as if a horse had just kicked him in the head.
I think they stayed together for, like, four months.
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