The DMV of Love

In 2008, Keith and Dan had me out to their place in Brooklyn for dinner. They were new people to me, and I was just starting to “circulate” in the New York film critic community, through writing for Matt Seitz’s blog (which Keith edited). When I covered the Tribeca Film Festival for the first time, Keith helped me pick up my press badge, the first time I met him. But the following year, Keith invited me over because he had a screener of The Wrestler and I was busy writing a huge piece about Mickey Rourke (the first piece I wrote that gained any traction). I loved hanging out in Keith and Dan’s two-story apartment, in one of those old Brooklyn townhouses, where they lived for twenty years. We sat in the living room, and talked for hours. This was the meeting where Suzy Gilstrap made her immortal appearance. If you were around in 2008-2009 then you will remember this era. The Skyward era. We were talking about Bette Davis, and Dan said there were only two or three things of hers he hadn’t seen – the unavailable Seed (1931), which we ended up getting to see years later at MoMA, and the TV movie Skyward. I flipped out because I actually had seen Skyward back when it first aired. I then proceeded to act the whole thing out, all the different parts, totally from memory. I hadn’t seen it since I was in middle school. TV movies have a way of vanishing. This one was notable due to the presence of Bette Davis, of course, but also because it was one of the first things Ron Howard directed (maybe the first?). On my drive back to Weehawken, still in a hilarious mood because of the uproarious Skyward laughing fit (Keith to Dan: “What is it with you and Skyward Christmas?”), I remember so clearly thinking at one point: “I am going to know those guys forever.”

You don’t always feel that way after meeting someone new.

Cut to: May 5, 2025. I was the witness at Keith and Dan’s City Hall wedding in New York. When they asked me to be the witness, I was overwhelmed! They got married on their 24th anniversary as a couple. I set out into the windy grey morning to meet up with them, filled with excitement. I love that area. It makes me think of Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr, John Jay … all those LAWYERS fighting it out on Manhattan soil, doing their best for us in the future. Okay, maybe not Aaron Burr. But still, they did try. All those crooked intersecting streets, made for horse and carriage and not cars, still holds the memory of what used to be.

I was early enough that I walked around a bit, soaking up the grandeur. It wasn’t raining (yet), and we were all grateful for that. It started raining at around 1 pm and didn’t stop for the rest of the day, but by that time the ceremony was over. I was struck by the engraving on the top of the courthouse.

I couldn’t agree more. Only by knowing and understanding history – in particular our history, and the context of its struggle to be realized – can we recognize what’s at stake, where we go wrong, the course to correct. There’s also something poignant about being a witness to two men being married. Writing this down is the first time I thought about it. Gay weddings are not a novelty in my world. 80% of my friend group is gay and this has been the case since high school. So a wedding is a wedding. But the larger context has a way of making its ugly face known, particularly when there are those who want to take away people’s rights. Never forget where we came from, and don’t hesitate to say “We are not going backwards.” There is a joy in living that refusal and we really felt it that morning! Dan made a joke about how to an outside eye it might look like I was a beard. lol And the first guy at the metal detector assumed I was the bride of one of them, which we found delightful and amusing. The sense of celebration was 1. so pure and 2. so universal. It was all around us!

There’s a little patch of green next to the courthouse called “Wedding Garden”, right across from the City Clerk’s office, where brides and grooms queue up on the daily to get married. I sat on a bench, soaking up the vibes, waiting for the grooms. And there they were coming towards me, looking absolutely smashing in their suits and shiny shoes. I was so happy! I took some pictures of them by the Wedding Garden.

I love them so much! We then headed across the street to join the throngs outside the clerk’s office. It used to be first-come first-serve, but now they give appointments, making it less of a crushing mob scene with less of a bottleneck. But still, there were a ton of people, and one extremely competent security guard checking people’s appointments and letting people through. Some people were in wedding dresses, others were in jeans and flip flops. The age range appeared to be literally from the 70s to late teens and everything in between. Every race, religion, age, was represented in the crowds. Everyone was consumed by their own joyful experience, and yet each individual experience poured into the whole, creating this party-on-the-sidewalk vibe, underlined by all the wedding bouquets placed on the ledge along the sidewalk, clearly a tradition.

There’s Keith, all ready with the paperwork.

There’s a gorgeous art deco interior, with a lot of space in the hallway for everyone waiting. There are shiny red hearts hanging over each clerk’s station, a whimsical touch. The hallway echoed with laughter and excited conversation. I saw a hugely pregnant bride, in a white wedding dress and veil, with silver shoes, going through the metal detector, behind her husband in cargo pants and a T-shirt. I love people. She was talking into her phone, informing her family, “We’re about to do it!” The woman who checked us in heard my name and immediately burst into song: “OH! OH SHEILA!” Then she said, “I bet you have heard that a thousand times.” “But it’s welcome every time. I mean, if someone’s going to sing a song at me –” She, agreeing: “It’s a GREAT song.”

This was the energy of every civil servant government employee working there. They should be protected at all costs. They keep things running. They serve us. The billionaires are parasites on the rest of us.

There’s the “Oh Sheila” clerk!

Dan kept referring to the clerk’s office as the DMV of Love, which is really accurate. You are given a number and you sit and wait. There’s a line of clerk’s desks, and you wait to be called. At the desk, you sign the certificate. Then you are allowed into the inner area, a little circular room, with two “chapels” on either side, each one churning out wedding ceremonies at the speed of light.

One woman was in charge of this. Her name was Wanyi Mai and we were blown away by her. She organized everyone, she told people who were ‘on deck’, and she also performed each ceremony, swapping back and forth between the two rooms. She was masked, she was energetic, and she had exactly the right energy for this kind of thing. If she had been irritated, stressed, or officious, she would have put a damper on the mood. But if she were too lackadaisacal and touchy-feely, the delays would have been extreme. So she was firm and in charge, but she was also friendly and energetic, like “okay, you’re next! Be ready!” Keith and Dan and I soaked up the vibes, taking videos to send to their parents. Again, the architecture was so beautiful, this circular room so graceful. Art deco for the win.

Finally it was their turn! Wanyi Mai led us into this inner room. There was a podium with a plastic barrier. There was a glass case with a massive old book on display, presumably a county clerk’s ledger in the past, showing all the married couples who came through here. The room was bare, no nonsense, no fluff. Wanyi Mai stood at the podium, told them to move closer together. I was in charge of filming the whole thing, a weighty responsibility. I checked 5 times that I had chosen “video” and not “photo”. The video came out perfectly.

The ceremony took a minute. The vows were so simple, and yet the feeling was overwhelming. I was in tears as I filmed, trying not to sniff, and thereby drown out their voices. It was tender and quiet, and their lengthy shared history was between them. It was very moving. I loved how she said, “By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I pronounce you married! You can kiss and hug!” It was probably her 40th ceremony of the day. (We looked her up afterwards, and many people – with wedding notices in the New York Times – call her out by name. We could see why!)

They don’t have you go out the same door you came in. You walk in on one side of the building as a single person, you walk out the other side of the building married. You join the celebration on the sidewalk. Everyone is saying “congratulations” to total strangers. You can’t walk two feet without being blocked by a happy family gathered for a photo. Photo shoots were going on in every available nook and cranny. Children ran around. The bouquets piled up on the ledge.

We were going to go have lunch at Cafe Reggio, my old grad school haunt. I loved it best on snowy winter days. I’d go and sit there by myself and read, or write, as the snow came down outside. We all have fond memories of the place. We walked there, and we felt the first raindrops as we hit Bleecker. Perfect timing. We got the best seat in the house, a little corner table by the window. We had cappucinos, lunch, I had a lemonade, they had tiramisu. We looked through our photos. I sent them the wedding video. They sent everything on to their parents. It’s not about me but it felt so special to be a part of their day, to be “standing in” for their family, the witness symbolic of their larger world. It was a big responsibility!

We took the train back up to their place. Rain was now pouring down. We were going out to dinner but that was hours later, so in the interim, we just just hung out, talking, enjoying the flowers that were delivered, looking at the certificate, and reminiscing about what happened that morning. “Member this part?” “I loved this part.”

We also watched a silent Greta Garbo film (The Temptress).

Rain really coming down in torrents now, we set out to have dinner at this cozy Italian place near them. We had wine. I told the waitress it was their wedding day and she was adorable and sweet. They comped them the desserts, and she wrote on the check, “Congratulations on your wedding day.” It’s important to take in the goodness of other people. We must insist upon it, in the face of gleeful cruelty gone mainstream. The food was delicious, the ambience perfect. The streets are so steep up there and, like the court square all the way downtown, you can feel the history, it’s totally undertandable why George Washington would camp up there, you can see why it’s called Washington Heights. If you’re at war, you want to be on the high ground. Which is awesome, but climbing up and down those steep sidewalks – in the rain – in my nice shoes – was an ordeal. Sorry, George. I welcomed it, though!

It was dark by the time we left the restaurant. They walked me to my subway. I traveled back to my hotel on 45th, my heart singing. The rain poured against my window. I didn’t want the day to end. It had been so perfect.

24 years together. They were the first friends I made in this new world of mine, a world I hadn’t anticipated, a world (and/or new career) I hadn’t planned for. (And look at me now, with my first book coming out this fall. Notice I said my first book.) Who could have imagined this? Keith and Dan have been guides and support, endlessly entertaining, and their apartment has been a home away from home, where the whole point is to sit in a room and talk, and watch things, and discuss, and have Keith bring out some souffle he’s made or some gorgeous delicious dinner he’s cooked up. It – and they – are a hub of sanity in an insane world. The DMV of Love is a hub of sanity too. Joy and community is sanity. If you’re ever feeling depressed, go to City Hall and hang out in the area where everyone is lined up to get married. Say “congratulations” to people you’ve never met. Offer to take people’s pictures for them. Smile in support of other people. It’s infectious. My congratulations not just to Keith and Dan but to all the couples I saw that day.

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat.
Go raibh cóir na gaoithe i gcónaí leat.
Go dtaitní an ghrian go bog bláth ar do chlár éadain,
go dtite an bháisteach go bog mín ar do ghoirt.
Agus go gcasfar le chéile sinn arís,
go gcoinní Dia i mbois a láimhe thú.