THE WEDDING PLANNER AND THE AXIS OF MIDGETS

The thing with a wedding is, it's often the first time the bride's friends gets to meet the groom's friends, and sometimes, that's not always the smoothest thing.

Late last week, hours before the marriage of stampshady Grimm and Faerie Muse was to begin, wedding planner Baccara Rhodes was scurrying around the yacht that was especially prepared for the occasion. The ship was moored off the coast of Elysian, Evie Fairchild's island, and as he vowed to me last month, it looked like stampshady had spared no expense for his Muse. By this time, Evie had already taken me on a tour of the island, to show off the matrimonial trimmings, from the reception yacht to the cathedral, where flower pedals were constantly falling from the high vaulted ceiling.

“Have you ever planned a real life wedding?” I ask Baccara, as she fusses over the presentation. (Offline, Ms. Rhodes is an events coordinator.)

“Twenty years worth," she says. "Pretty much hundreds. And bar mitzvahs.”

“So what's the main difference logistically between real life weddings and Second Life weddings?”

“There are still budget constraints. Because this one is a fortune. And I haven't toted the bill yet."

I ask her how much, and after some reluctance, she gives me a ballpark figure. I stagger at the sum, and try to calculate the going exchange rate. "That's, um, wow, maybe a few hundreds dollars real life money!"

"It’s been weeks of work and a team effort," Baccara continues. "here the flowers are always fresh, and the food doesn't spoil, but things are the same. Fighting between participants. Baccara moves a piece of the cathedral by accident. And the decorations. Everything is custom. I only use it once.”

“What kind of fights?”

“Nothing,” says Baccara, testy. “Stop being nosy.”

As if on cue, three little men in World War II-era German uniforms show up, leaping over the tables, downing goblets of wine.

"Aw man," says Tyler Dillon, "I can’t eat turkey, it makes me s***. It looks good, though."

"Look at that cake!" Jack Dayton yells.

I glance down at the tiny combatants from Jessie, scampering over the yacht. "Little Nazi soldiers!"

“I would think you would be a smart Linden,” Jack Dayton says, offended. “I guess not.”

“Sorry," I say, "AXIS soldiers.”

“That’s better,” Dayton sniffs. Like many Jessie residents, these pocket-sized warriors are also fans of the multiplayer game "World War II Online", and play on the "Axis" side-- not the Nazis. They're WWII military history buffs, so they get understandably touchy about the distinction.

"Axis of Midgets!" I add.

As a former resident of Jessie, stampshady Grimm is one of the few popular residents to bridge the cultural gap between the residents of the warzone, with its pervasive military hardware and its rude signs and its Confederate battle flags-- and the rest of the world.

"We love stamp, don’t we guys," Fueltanker Cotton announces. He's the dark-skinned one with the adorable camouflage outfit. “I know I miss him.”

"Yes we do," Dillon agrees. "I loved him when he lived in Jessie, but for some reason he left."

"We have had two weddings this week," Baccara tells me, over the din of chaos and little feet, "and have two more big ones in two weeks."

Jack Dayton is still in awe of the buffet display. "F***-ing love food," he observes.

"Language please, gentlemen," says Baccara, sternly. "Some things never change, Hammie."

"It will put a big smile on stamp's face when he sees us here," says Fueltanker Cotton.

"Yeah, it will," says Dillon. "I bet he misses us, too."

Fueltanker begins to do a bouncing, bent-leg sort of dance, as if preparing for the reception party to come.

"He looks like Gary Coleman on amyl nitrate," I opine.

The Jessie residents tend to bring out my evil side, and before I know it, I've put on my Hunter S. Thompson avatar, the one who carries a bottle of Jim Beam and a Colt .45 handgun in either hand.

"WHERE'S THE BRIDE?" I slur. "I WANT TO KISS HER OPEN-MOUTHED! I'M HST!" The Jessie midgets are cracking up at that. "He's worse than us!", enthuses one.

If Baccara Rhodes is shocked, she doesn't show it.

"I am entirely unruffled by you all," she says, serene. "I deal with brides."