Lebanese Day3awe Wedding

Everyone has gone to one of those day3awe (village/town like) weddings, or at least I hope.
Everyone this week was preparing a relative’s house for his wedding. They began preparing their front “yard” (dar bil lebneni) for the wedding, but what a mess of a wedding!
Today I woke up to a mess of clothes and make up and shoes. I decided not to go, the wedding would be a disaster, I thought, since:
a) It’s on a cold November night
b) I don’t “agree” with their way of thinking
c) Come on, the yard looked like one of these Egyptian wedding you see in old movies
As the day was passing and the clock was ticking I decided to just go and see. I changed to some acceptable clothes and walked to the house where the wedding was hosted. I was surprised to find a weird yet hilarious mix of people, somehow like a typical Lebanese wedding, but a little bit more twisted.
There were those kids playing near the parking or the cars, bored about the events going on.
There were those kids joining in the dance floor, thus annoying most of the dancers.
There were those annoyed parents carrying their sleeping toddlers, wishing they could join the dance.
There were those weird couples that don’t act like couples, each sitting at an end of the table.
There was no singles’ table (luckily for me, although this is very uncommon, but lucky me!)
There was a lot of Ti Rash Rash.
There were those old, fat ladies who talk very weirdly with an old accent and old words and expressions. Now the funny thing about them not only was when they talked together, but also when they tried to sing or even dance!
There were the constant dancers who never left the dance floor.
There was the guy I assume is gay dancing with the girl I assume is lesbian.
There was the sharmoutet l day3a (village’s prostitute) dancing with all the men, wearing tightest clothes and highest heels, singing all the time, I suppose she’s no younger that 50 years.
There were a lot of drunken people, increasing in numbers as time increasing. Those ones that act like children, those who don’t stop dancing and demand the rest to dance, the ones who can’t stop laughing, the ones who think their voice outmatches that of Oum Kaltoum. It’s funny how alcohol can make a 55 year old man think he has the belly dancing skills of a 20 year old woman.
But most important of all, there was finally union between the different families in the village. Meaning that they just had fun, no matter your family name. They danced and sang and celebrated together, forgetting old fights they had, whether it was because of a dog or the words of a drunk man (yes it actually happened).
And as I contemplated at that weird mixture of people beside the noisy speakers, I realized how messed up my day3a is, and yet how much I love it with all my heart…

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