Great Danes

After college, I was invited by an old friend to her wedding in India. In the grand tradition of over-the-top Indian weddings, all I had to do was fly there. After that, we’d be put up in a lavish hotel, practically the Taj Mahal, and wined and dined for three days straight. Or something like that.

It was a palatial hotel, but also incredibly damp with leaky roofs and no cooling system. And, in the flurry of aunties and random relatives, I actually turned out to know nearly no one. Few of our college friends had actually bothered to come, and the whole thing was so huge, and diffuse, and cellphone-less that it was very hard to meet-up. Plus, we were more or less isolated — the hotel was a compound unto itself, with a rather long and bumpy taxi ride to the nearest city.

So, in the evening of the first night we were there, after a gigantic dinner in a tent, I started wandering, around the grounds of the resort. After a couple big loops around the property, I stumbled on the strangest sight. A group of carnies, clumped around tents and equipment, camped out under a little hill. It looked like a scene in a movie — shirtless men juggling, women with parrots on their shoulders. I stood, gaping, for a while, before a young woman motioned me over.

She was white, oddly, Danish, and some sort of contortionist. They were a troupe of entertainers, she said, who had booked the resort for the summer, performed for guests each evening, and camped out in the back. How she, a young Danish girl, ended up with them, was unclear. What was clear was that I’d stumbled on something much more interesting than another bridal party. I spent the rest of the afternoon loafing about and watching my new friends practice their trade. When the sun set, I crawled into a tent with my new friend. Contortionist indeed.

The next morning, I stumbled back up to the wedding party. I only saw her one more time, at the final wedding blowout three days later. She was with her troupe, performing; I was drunk with some Americans wearing a suit. I waved, but I don’t know if she saw me. — Devin