Opening Volley

Most of you don’t know what the B.I.B.O. Index is.

That’s because even though it sounds like some outdated meteorological system, it was invented by none other than Jordan Hoewischer.

The man who shares my surname, size, and sweatiness made his mark on the wedding guest world a few years back when he started perfecting the reconnaissance he’d do for our friends and family’s weddings. Ya see, big dudes in suits in the heart of Ohio summer—where the days are long and Catholic masses even longer—had a vested interest in any ahead-of-time info we could gather on the service.

No mass, only communion … that’ll shave off a few minutes …

AC unit appears newish; should be in good shape there…

Only one reader!

… I’d say we’re looking at about 20-22 minutes, tops—Bride In, Bride Out.

Hence, B.I.B.O.

You haven’t heard of it, but I’ve judged every wedding I’ve attended by its rigorous standards.

And now that I am an ordained minister—thanks Jon Husted, Internet!—I’ve used my newfound power to bring down the B.I.B.O. Index all across this great land.

At first, I’d get a little nervous that my “short and sweet” way of performing weddings would be a little radical. Many secular lovebirds have come to me, not realizing that if you take out a lot of the God stuff, the wedding, down to its skeleton, is really a few vows, put a ring on it, kiss, walk away. Not much to it.

An old man approached me after one of last year’s weddings—already an on-the-fly affair since our no-permit party inadvertently bumped into Frank Fetch Park’s volunteer landscape crew. Wearing a light windbreaker, the kind farmers throw on with their khakis when they’ve hopped out of the tractor long enough to attend a distant nephew’s city wedding. I can still remember his firm, leathered grip as he complimented my three-minute ceremony, which he’d managed to hear over a nearby electric pruner: “That was the best damn wedding I’ve ever been to.”

Once a member of the greatest generation shakes your hand, and literally thanks you for your service, you realize the tide has turned on weddings.

Now, you can do it however you want—a current that runs through this year’s Big Day section.

You can have a groomsman play the sax riff from Outkast’s “Spottieottiedopealicious” while he leads the procession in flip-flops and Hawaiian shirts.

You can get married holding a bow and arrow.

You can hit the dance floor in a T-Rex costume.

You can say “I do” in a factory where toilets were once made.

You can have your whole wedding party jump in a lake—nude, dude.

Does that sound a little Dr. Seussian? Yeah, it sure does.

But that fits just fine. The weddings you’ll see inside these pages are just that whimsical.

You can also have a bald magazine editor perform your ceremony. As long as you like it so short and sweet, there’s barely enough time to sweat.

Cheers,

Travis Hoewischer, Editor-in-Chief

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