Stage 4: Embrace Complete Wedding Hysteria

The night before, I couldn’t sleep anyway — thanks to all the FOMO-mongering coverage — so I was already up at 5:30 a.m.

The first thing I noticed were the multitudes of people filling every nook and cranny of London. People lining the streets to Westminster Abbey, people squeezing into parks watching Jumbotrons, and people lining the gates of Buckingham Palace. I had never seen that many people in one place, with the exception of Live Aid replays.

Hearing the British people on the ground talk about their excitement for a new princess got me excited (and also made me feel like a total traitor to America’s founding fathers).

It wasn’t just ordinary people who were excited — celebrities, politicians, and other royals all showed up to the wedding wearing their very best. The Beckhams were there, and so were Elton John, Mario Testino, British Prime Minister David Cameron, and a slew of others.

It was the fanciest red carpet I’d ever seen. There were tailcoats, top hats, and fascinators. And by this point, I was totally on board with all of it.

When Kate stepped out of that carriage and walked up those stairs, I was blown away. She was like the 2011 version of Grace Kelly — classy, elegant, and with a train for days.

But as much as I remember the dress, the kiss on the balcony, the throngs of people, and the Aston Martin, I’ve kind of forgotten everything else. I can’t remember the actual ceremony, the speeches, the vows, or the kiss in Westminster Abbey. I don’t remember how they got back to the palace, or why the entire royal family thought they should go stand on a balcony and wave at their subjects.

I just remember wanting to be a part of something bigger than me. Something that everyone was going to talk about the next day, month, and for years to come. I wanted to believe in fairy tales. I wanted to have an answer to the question, “Where were you when the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge got married?”

And I do. I was in Philadelphia, with my eyes glued to the television for the entire affair. It was opulent, it was ridiculous, it was pure pageantry — and it was well worth the memory.