Weddingbee Blog

There is a German tradition of having a Polterabend the night before a wedding. Polterabend literally translates to “rumbling evening,” and it’s basically a big ball of mischief and shenanigans. We knew it was coming, but weren’t exactly sure what we were in for. After the toasts, Mr. Scissors’ father called Mr. Scissors’ brother over to help him start the evening’s festivities. While Mr. Scissors’ father explained the concept of a Polterabend to those unfamiliar, he also pulled out what he’d been hinting around about for months:

The handcuffs. Mr. Scissors’ brother handcuffed us together, and Mr. Scissors’ father explained that this was to simulate the trials and tribulations of marriage, working together, and being bound to one another.

Symbolism aside, we’d have to be handcuffed together until somebody said the safety word. This was a pre-determined (and unknown to everyone except André) word that would have to be said while everybody told stories about us.

However, before the mass storytelling, everybody needed to get something to eat, and naturally Mr. Scissors and I had to go first—handcuffs and all.

Let me just say that moving around, much less getting food and eating, is pretty difficult to do while handcuffed together. (But pretty hilarious too, I might add.) I got the better end of the deal, as my right hand was free.

After everybody got food and was seated, the stories began.

There was lots of laughing, embarrassed face-covering by yours truly, and great tales of us as a couple. And high-fiving, apparently.

Mom talked about how I always reminded her of Bridget Jones, and then began to do the “Bridget, what your baaad boyfriend do?” scene from the Thai prison. It was amusing. (And also relevant at the time, but sadly I can’t totally remember the context. Bah!)

After loads and loads of stories had been told with no safety word said, Mr. Scissors and I began to wonder what in the world the word was, and how we were going to figure it out.

Then, Best Man Joe to the rescue! Telling a story about the James Bond tuxes, he said it—James Bond. That was our safety word. Thank you, Mr. Bond.

Then, when we thought we’d be handed over a key, we got a policeman’s hat full of candy. The key was hidden somewhere, and we had to find it. I suggested that we use the cupcake skirt to dump the candy out and sift through the lot.

There were some kittens (!!!) in there, and I got distracted. After sifting through all of the candy, we found no key. Candy back into the hat.

While Mr. Scissors was clearly distracted by the kitties (those devils), I decided to look under the hat, and there the key was- adhered to the bottom. Those tricksy hobbits.

Mr. Scissors unlocked us, and I was free at last!

For a few seconds, at least. Mr. Scissors seized the opportunity to handcuff me to…me. I struggled and lost.

After some whining and prodding, he finally un-did me. Nice guy, that Mr. Scissors.

My father devilishly looked on,

and I seized an opportunity to be a ham and put the hat on.

Next up? Presents, cards, and more rumbling fun!

Anybody else get literally bound together during wedding festivities? Any fun rehearsal dinner shenanigans?

*All photographs by Matt Miller of Our Labor of Love.

Previously on Rock, Paper, Scissors:

• A taste of the Smilebooth
• Our wedding music video
• Some teasers
• An overly stressful day-before
• Foiled by a contact
• Rehearsal dinner beginnings