Terrence Takeover | The Line Between Guest and Vendor

Apollo Fields | Best Wedding Photos | Long Island Wedding Photography | Catskill Mountain Wedding Photographer | Upstate New York WEdding PHotographer | Writer | TErrence Huie

A bunch of acquaintances sit and stand around a large table, some blinds drawn and a faint waft of hair spray comes floating into the room. The nervous tension is palpable as conversation stalls in the dense air. There are a handful of half-eaten sandwiches and macaroni salads on paper plates strewn across the room complete with crumpled napkins and half-drunk mimosas. These are the last remnants before a wedding finally kicks off.

I’m standing on a beautiful wrap-around porch on an overcast day in the Catskill Mountains in my royal blue suit. It’s the same suit I wear when I work weddings when one of the guys asks, “is it easy for you to turn it off? Like today, will your mind be cranking?” As I begin to say that I was just scouting the first look location and going into details of what I’ve already helped with I stop–”no, it’s not. I’m more of a lifestyle guy. I’m interested in making sure that everyone is having a good time.” It didn’t occur to me until now that I was lying–well sort of half-lying–I was making sure that everyone was having a good time; but I also wasn’t turning it off,

making sure that everyone was having a good time—was actually me working.

I didn’t realize I was fully put into the guest zone until I was walking on the catwalk of the beautiful barn at Windham Manor when someone yelled below, “hey, you’re not supposed to be up there!” I’ve gotten so used to the wedding vendor all access pass that I didn’t know I was trespassing.

For the last five plus years I’ve been going into rooms like the one I described and facilitating conversations with people who may or may not know each other, and definitely don’t know me. I haven’t been afraid of entering crowded rooms since I learned to bartend ten years ago. Actually, I thrive on finding the common ground between myself and others. That’s because the more I learn about others, the more I learn about myself. So when I see a room full of people wiggling in their seats, avoiding eye contact, looking for what to say–I don’t move towards the walls, I move towards the center.

I move towards getting people talking. I notice the ones that don’t want to or can’t find the right words. I don’t press them. I laugh at the loud, lewd jokes. I keep walking along, wagging my tail, as Heather constantly refers to me as a golden retriever. It’s actually a quality that’s plagued me because I find it really hard to quantify. Even speaking about it makes me nauseous with self-importance.

I love to be around other people. That’s it. I’m a chronically addicted extrovert.

So when I attended the wedding of one of the last remaining bachelors of my grade school friends, I talked to a lot of people. I didn’t take many pictures, and I didn’t dance much either. I bounced around from cocktail tables to people seated on stairs, to people on couches at the after party. The entire wedding is a blur of laughter and conversations. I wasn’t working but looking back at it I kind of was. My personal life has blended so much with my professional life that it’s hard to discern where the good times end and work begins. I think it’s a good problem–and one that I will inevitably bring up while wagging my tail at one of our couple’s cocktail hours.