The Renewlywed Game

The Little White, which opened in 1950, actually has several chapels to choose from, including the Crystal Chapel and the Chapel of Promises. We wanted the dowdy original, the Little White Chapel. With a half-dozen pews, a mirrored back wall and a pillar-flanked altar draped in white, it was cozy, if not exactly plush.

"Let's go all the way to the back so we can walk longer," Elvis purred, taking Janet's hand in his. I'm pretty sure she swooned.

Jenni, Dan and I made our way to the altar. A TV monitor displaying what was being videotaped was propped above the head of Shawn Jewell, the flawlessly coiffed, dulcet-toned officiate who assured us that he'd "take care of everything."

I'm glad, because I was nervous. I've known Janet for most of my life, and her smile is more deeply embedded in my memory than anything else. When we're bored, we chat about our second-grade teacher (good ol' Mrs. O'Hara) or look at pictures of us playing on the swing set in her Jersey back yard. Now, on the brink of recommitting my life to her, I had butterflies.

After minutes of planning and months of waiting, the ceremony itself lasted about 10 minutes, a flurry of Elvis-enriched moments coming in rapid succession: Elvis walking Janet down the aisle as the Wedding March blared from a speaker. Elvis proclaiming, "Congratulations, John, you lucky hound dog," as he placed her hand in mine. Elvis serenading us with "Loving You" as our happy octet locked arms and swayed in unison. Elvis pushing Dan closer to us, as Jewell spoke of the wonders of love, so that our beast man could be in the video.

One "I do" was followed by another. I fumbled my vows, the emotion apparent in that video we've already watched a dozen times. We exchanged the plastic rings Janet had picked up at the mall; mine says "Best," hers says "Friends." We kissed and hugged and kissed again as the tiny congregation cheered; then Elvis stepped between us and started crooning "Can't Help Falling in Love." Our favorite song, performed to perfection.

We shimmied our way back down the aisle and into the 95-degree heat outside as the door behind us slammed shut -- and locked. It was no mistake. Another couple was on the way to the Little White altar, a Vegas wedding statistic in the making.

For us, there were pictures to take, and toasts to make, and Elvis to tip, and slot machines to play, and laughs to share. Into the night we went, just another bride and groom surrounded by loved ones, an angel and devil at their sides.