The Case of the Missing Tie: An Unsolved Wedding Mystery

October 22nd, 2016. San Diego, CA.

Is it possible to have a shared false memory?

The mysterious disappearance of Dave’s tie on our wedding day has had us scratching our heads for the better part of our almost-eight-year marriage. It’s unclear what kind of mystery we have on our hands here: Is it a classic whodunit? A regular ol’ David Copperfield? A simple burglary? A prank taken too far?

All I know is that we both remember Dave folding the tie, setting it inside his bag, zipping the bag, and taking the bag down the hall to the empty hotel room in which he and the other men were to get ready. But when it was time to get ready, the tie had disappeared, and hasn’t been seen since.

Last seen on the morning of October 22nd, 2016. If found, please DM.

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The Morning Of

In anticipation of the day’s events, we woke up early to clear our heads on an easy¹ run around the neighborhood. It’s not often that Dave and I run together; he can go months without running and then effortlessly knock out eight miles at a faster clip than me at my fastest. So it was a special treat to meander those streets side by side, him silently breathing, me gasping for air with every step. True love.

Knowing we would likely be consumed by conversation with wedding guests upon returning to the hotel lobby, we snuck off for a quick breakfast to snag some quiet reflection time, just the two of us. Over burritos, we reminded each other to be present and to soak everything in; to sear each interaction, each word, each moment into our long-term memories.

And boy are those memories seared! Especially the memory we both have about Dave putting the tie in his bag and dragging the bag down the hallway. Which is why this occurrence is so incredibly bewildering.

What the hell happened to that tie?!

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The Last Sighting

After mingling in the lobby for the better part of an hour, we retreated to our room to map out the rest of the day. We had a tight timeline of events before the ceremony— hair and make-up (for me, not Dave), signing the Ketubah², and taking photos before sundown — so Dave quickly threw his belongings in his bag. Before zipping it shut, however, he grabbed the tie that had been thrown over the back of the armchair.

We both saw him do it.

We were both there.

He had the tie in his hand, he folded it in half, then gently placed it on top of the rest of his belongings before zipping the bag. We then said our goodbyes, and he walked with his suit bag and duffel in tow down the hallway to the spare room he’d use to get ready with his dudes.³

Once there, he stored everything in the closet so that the suit didn’t get wrinkled and the duffel bag was out of the way while the men all drank whiskey and talked about bolo ties (presumably⁴).

The facts thus far:

• The tie was in on the chair in our room.

• The tie was placed gingerly at the top of a duffel bag and taken to the other room.

• The duffel bag was immediately stored in the closet.

• The men gathered and drank whiskey and discussed bolo ties.

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Back in my room…

Several of my girlfriends joined me as I was getting my hair done. My one request of the stylist was to ensure that the up-do wouldn’t slowly unfurl throughout the evening. Somehow she managed to morph my long curly hair into the beautiful work of art seen below — in under 30 minutes. It was impressive.

There are more bobby pins in this picture than I’ve ever seen in my entire life before and after— and I grew up doing theater.

The photographer wanted to take some photos of each of us getting ready, so I was advised to put on my dress, which is what I was doing when the phone rang. As a millennial, I’m not a fan of talking on the phone, so I asked a friend to answer. This is the one-sided conversation I heard:

“Uh huh”

—

“Yeah, I’ll check. Hold on.”

She then darted into the bedroom, then the bathroom, then the little seating area where the rest of us were hanging out. She quickly walked around the little room, peeking over the back of the couch, glancing sideways at the armchair, shuffling things around the table before returning to the phone:

“No, it’s not here.”

—

“Are you sure? Yeah, send someone over.”

Something was amiss!

It turns out that Dave had not yet showered, but he needed to be ready for the photographer any minute. He had been frantically searching for the tie, which he discovered missing 20 minutes prior, and lost track of time. I called him back.

The photographer arrived just in time to document as the mystery unfolded. This is me telling Dave that he should just shower and not worry about the tie. Nobody cares about the tie! You don’t need a tie!

I couldn’t have cared less about the missing tie, but I also couldn’t comprehend how the tie was supposedly missing. I was sure he had just “looked” in his bag without thoroughly looking (as men do⁵), so I told him to get in the shower and I’d come down there to more thoroughly check his bag and the pathway between the two rooms.

But I was wrong. He had looked thoroughly. And so did his friends.

The tie was nowhere to be seen.

The new facts:

• The women gathered and drank champagne and I don’t remember what we talked about but it was lovely.

• The women received a call requesting a room inspection for the missing tie.

• Inspection was performed, no tie was found.

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Problem Solving

Since Dave and I still needed to get ready to keep to the photographer’s schedule, we sent one friend to double check my room, another to double check Dave’s, and a third to the hotel lobby to see if — somehow — the tie made its way to the lost and found.

No luck.

It became abundantly clear that we had done all we could and the situation was now entirely out of our control. But we also knew our mothers would not be pleased if Dave went tie-free, so we put out an APB⁶ to the wedding guests:

Dave’s tie has gone missing. Does anyone have an extra purple tie?

Within ten minutes, Dave had a surprisingly extensive selection of seven purple ties to choose from: there was a lavender paisley pattern, a solid maroon, a black and plum checkered pattern, and four variations of gray and violet stripes. Truthfully, the selection was superior to any selection we had found in our original search. As it turns out, our wedding guests had excellent taste.

Dave selected one of the striped patterns and we managed to make it to the Ketubah signing right on time (special thanks to Brett Friedman for sacrificing his tie for the sake of our wedding)!

Great tie, no?

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The rest of the wedding went down without a hitch, and here’s some photo evidence:

Some highlights:

• Mutual glass stomping (why should men get to have all the fun?!)

• We rejoined the festivities after the ceremony with an homage to Parks and Rec⁷

• An almost-slipping-off-the-chair moment during the Horah

• Tiramisu for the wedding cake

• An incredible Hamilton parody by the Elder Chermaks (please excuse the cell phone video quality and instead focus on the lyrics — and if you happen to know Lin Manuel Miranda, please forward this to him pronto)

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The Resolution (if you can call it that)

By the next morning, Dave and I had convinced ourselves that our shared memory was actually a memory from a couple days prior, when we packed our bags before heading to the hotel — we both figured we would discover the tie resting on an armchair at my mother’s house. As you might suspect given the unsolved part of this mystery, the tie wasn’t there either.

We were advised by the event coordinator at the hotel to call back every few days to see if the tie turned up, but I gave up that endeavor a week later.

I even went so far as to reach out to Calvin Klein, to see if I could get ahold of an identical tie to gift Dave for our first anniversary. But they informed me that they make new ties every few months and the odds of me acquiring the same one would be slim to none.

Part of me is still expecting the tie to show up in the mail one day, without a note nor a return address. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of our friends pulled this prank for the long con of it all — and I’ll forever be impressed if that’s the case.

Logically, what I suspect really happened is this: the bag was probably not zippered all the way so the tie fell out in the hallway and another hotel guest (not one of our attendees) picked it up and decided to keep it. If that’s the case, I do hope the tie has exacted revenge for being torn from what would have been the best night of its inanimate life.

Alas, this mystery will likely remain unsolved. And perhaps that tie served a purpose far greater than its original intention: we got a damn good wedding story out of its disappearance.

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1. Read: sea-level

2. The Jewish marriage license.

3. The room was technically for my brother, but he couldn’t make it to the wedding.

4. This is an assumption—I have no clue what they actually talked about. However, at least one of them was indeed wearing a bolo tie, so it stands to reason that it inevitably became a topic of conversation.

5. Not all men?

6. All Points Bulletin, for all you non-crime fans.

7. Here’s the reference (starting at 2:16)—My Aunt Sally might have been the only guest to make the connection, but the mere memory of her fit of laughter warms my soul.