How to Throw A Surprise Wedding

It all started when…

Not too long ago, Kevin and Kelly, planned a trip to Italy with my husband and me. We were anticipating a great time, but a few months before our departure, Kevin upped the ante with this email: 

Well, I wanted to write you and ask you a question… Without playing havoc with our schedule, do you think we could have enough time to find a small place where I can exchange wedding vows with Kelly while in ITALY? I know it sounds silly but since we didn’t have a real wedding, I thought it would be cool to have a small (and I mean brief) service, early in the morning with you two by our side… I know it would mean a lot to Kelly and more so to have the two of you involved as Best Man and Maid of Honor…

VIVA ITALIA!!!!!!  

Kevin 


To which I, the romantic, replied: YES! And Kelly was to know nothing about the wedding. Thus started the Top Secret Surprise Wedding plans – a how-to for planning the romantic surprise of the century. 

How To Throw a Surprise Wedding in Four Easy Steps 


Step One: Assemble a Fantastic Team 

That team should include Brenda Babcock , a wedding planner in Rome. An American who fell in love with Italy, Brenda specializes in weddings for Americans who want to seal their vows in the Eternal City. Her best reference: Vera Wang . Yep. The goddess of all things wedding. The woman who defines wedding elegance -- perhaps even more than (gasp) Martha. Brenda used to run her New York store. 

The plan wasn’t that elaborate – an opportunity for Kelly and Kevin to have those simple things which they missed when they were legally married. 

Kevin and Kelly had been planning a big church wedding for 2001. But several things got in the way: 9/11, an out-of-control guest list, and the lack of good caterers in Lincoln, Nebraska. Finally, after one too many headaches, they cancelled it all and eloped to Vegas. Their wedding included Elvis, hired witnesses, black leather, and only two photographs. The deed was done, but the trappings were less than romantic. I don’t think Vera or Martha would approve. 

So, Kevin’s thoughtfulness touched me deeply. Brenda was totally on board – and intrigued by the project. And I love planning weddings. The team was assembled.

Step Two: Lie 

Keeping the secret involved distancing myself from Kelly as much as possible. I just knew that if we talked I would spill it. I sent emails every few days with trip details and reading suggestions, but every time I emailed Kevin and Brenda, I had to triple check the addresses before I hit “send” for fear that I would accidentally send it to Kelly instead.

Kelly and Kevin were on the verge of a major fight about the whole trip. Kelly couldn’t figure out why Kevin just wouldn’t “engage” (to use her word) with the planning. She was royally ticked off, frankly.

Finally, R and I arrived in Rome. Kevin and Kelly followed -- sans luggage. We’d concocted a cocktail party to which I had been invited, and without luggage the two love birds did not have clothes to wear at all, much less to a cocktail party.

I have never done so much lying in my life.

With the wedding coming on Monday, we prayed that Alitalia would find their luggage and deliver it in time. Meanwhile, we traipsed through the Forum and the Campidoglio, stopping each day to buy some underwear… a clean t-shirt… some socks on what was quickly dubbed “The Sweatpants Tour” of Rome.

Let me say that Alitalia is not the finest airline I have ever flown. It actually might be the worst. Each time we called they assured us that the luggage was on a courier’s van and headed for our apartment. This is called “lying.” In Italy it is called “good customer service.”

Kelly wanted to back out of the cocktail party. Without luggage, she just didn’t feel like going. Besides she thought it was all about me, so R and I could go, and she and Kevin would just stay home.

“Your luggage is going to arrive,” I kept saying. In the meantime I am pointing out every cute cocktail dress we see as we stop for more underwear and clean t-shirts. “Wouldn’t it be great to have a new dress from Rome?”

Kevin was freaking out, too. His suit was in his suitcase along with several other special things he had planned for Kelly. He was on the verge of calling it off.

As Kelly was trying on a new pair of pants Sunday evening, I pulled him aside. “It is going to be ok. I don’t know how, but it is going to be ok. If your bag isn’t here tomorrow, you can buy a new suit in the afternoon, and I will twist Kelly’s arm into buying a dress. Or you can get married in sweatpants. We will make it happen, though.”

How? Who knew! I just kept lying because someone needed to be calm about it all.

We spent the morning of the wedding day at the Vatican Museums . I had a prayerful moment in the Sistine Chapel, begging God to make it all work out ok. I just didn’t want their trip to be ruined by a stupid airline.

And then a miracle happened… Kelly’s bag appeared in her room.

Step Three: Pamper the Bride 

Now, Kevin’s bag had all kinds of sentimental surprises in it. But, let’s be honest. It was going to be a lot easier for Kevin to find clothes than to convince Kelly to get another new dress.

“We just aren’t going to go,” she said. “Kevin’s bag isn’t here. We will just stay home.”

I looked at Kevin.

“Let’s just plan that Kevin’s bag is going to arrive before we leave. The hair and makeup guy is coming at 2 pm. The guys can run out and find something inexpensive to wear while we get ready. And they can return it if the bag arrives.”

Oh, I was finally getting good at this!

At two, as we washed our hair, the boys left. And then it began to rain.

Actually, “rain” doesn’t begin to describe the torrents of water that dropped from the heavens. It was a Midwestern thunderstorm the likes of which Rome hadn’t seen in years.

Ensconced in our rooms, Kelly and I watched dismayed as the rain flooded our street. But then Orazio arrived. “Nothing about the wedding,” I warned him when I met him at the door. Cute, chic, and sweet, Orazio responded, “I don’t speak English.” Perfect!

Watching Orazio work on Kelly’s hair – blowing it dry and then curling it – I saw the worry and anxiety slip from her face. Pampering does that to a girl, you know! She began to relax and to just feel… pretty.

And then, as I was having my makeup done, she looked out the window.

“What kind of car did they say they were sending?” she asked.

“Um, they didn’t say.”

“Well, there’s a Rolls Royce outside. Do you think that’s for us?”

Actually, it was a silver, 1921 Bentley.

“Seriously,” I tried to sound shocked. “A Rolls? I don’t know.”

Not two minutes later the buzzer rang – as I knew it would. Oh, yeah. The Bentley was for us.

By now it was nearly 5 pm, and there was no sign of the boys. “Orazio, may I borrow your cell phone.”

Well, evidently he wasn’t kidding when he told me he didn’t speak English. With Kelly in the bathroom admiring her freshly gorgeous self I pulled out my best Marcel Marceau moves (minus the trapped-in-a-box routine) and wrested Orazio’s cell phone away from him.

“Brenda, have the boys called you?”

“Yes. They are meeting us here. Bring R’s clothes and come.”

Ok. So, how was I going to explain this: I had gotten a clear message from God that the boys were meeting us there?  The best lies are uncomplicated and vague. This one just got more and more complicated, and I was caught right in the middle of it.

“Um, Kelly? My friend, Brenda, just called Orazio and said that the boys are stuck downtown because of the rain. We are supposed to meet them there and take all of R’s clothes with us. The driver knows where we are going.”

Shit. Please, God, don’t let her play connect-the-dots right now.  There are way too many holes in this story.

And it got even stickier, because at this point I don’t know where we are going.

Why not? Well, the wedding was supposed to be OUTSIDE – at the top of the Janiculum Hill, overlooking the city. And it was STILL pouring. I had no idea what Plan B was, but clearly the driver knew.

“Well, I hope the boys found something to wear,” Kelly said, “because I look damn good, and I am not going to waste this. Let’s go!”

At least we were going to have a bride!

Step Four: Hold Your Breath 

Now, if you have never had the opportunity to take a silver 1921 Bentley through the streets of Rome, freshly washed with the rain… well, to quote Ferris, “It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up.”

I had no idea where we were going or what we would find when we got there, so I just had to make small talk – and avoid the topic of the cocktail party completely. So, I did what I do best: I played tour guide. There’s the Vatican. That’s where I stayed when I was here last spring. That’s the most exclusive hotel in Rome. This is the Tiber. We ate dinner there Friday night. That’s Augustus’ tomb. I knew where we were. I just had no idea where we were going.


And then the car stopped. 

“Stay here,” the driver told us. It was drizzling. So, we waited. 

R emerged, soaked through and through. Oh, this was going to be a story! Later the boys would regale us with stories of saleswomen named Olga who helped a completely drenched groom find a suit at Gucci. The pants were too long. The jacket needed to be tailored, but in the end Kevin looked fantastic! 

R snatched up his things with some excuse about changing in a store and tore off to get dressed. 

The Bentley was hot and stuffy, but because I had no idea where the boys were or what the plan was I couldn’t let Kelly get out of the car. 

“I am so hot,” she whined. “I am getting out.” 

Sweltering, I lied, “It’s not so bad. I am just going to give them five more minutes. I don’t want my hair to get wet.” 

All the while I am pointing out well-dressed people who MIGHT be coming and going from a cocktail party with the giants of the Roman publishing world (there were very few on the streets at half past five). 

Please, God, please let her just stay in the car. Please make those boys hurry up. I can’t hold this together much longer. I sank into a gloomy silence hoping to make it uncomfortable enough that Kelly wouldn’t want to talk any more so I wouldn’t have to lie any more. 

Finally, with another lame excuse about some lost Michelangelo doors around the corner, R comes to retrieve us from the car. 

The rain has stopped... 

Kevin is waiting at the door. We enter a little corridor, passing a sign for a church. Did she see it? 

There are indeed some beautiful wooden doors, and when Kevin opens them, my heart stops… 

The church is ugly, but there is Brenda, bouquet in hand. And Kevin says something endearing to his wife… and suddenly she realizes that she has been fooled. Her face lights up. And then Brenda puts the veil on her head. 

White roses in hand, Kelly walked up the aisle on Kevin’s arm. R and I beamed as they vowed to continue to love and honor each other, to grow old together and to care for each other. Still shocked, Kelly dabbed her eyes and looked adoringly into Kevin’s. 

And then it was over. But the glow lasted long into the night… 

We drove to the Colosseum where they had glorious photographs taken, and we all shared a glass of Asti and a toast to the happy couple. 

Finally, the four of us enjoyed a lovely dinner at Hostaria del’Orso – a restaurant in what used to be a medieval inn. Italians are romantics, so they gave the bride and groom the best table in the place and greeted us with champagne. The whole house toasted Kevin and Kelly… it was a grand way to end a grand voyage… and a beautiful way to begin another.

The photographs of the bride and groom in this post were taken by Alessandro Zingone , a fantastic wedding photographer in Rome.