Wi-Fi, Weddings, and Walter Mitty

A 35 millimeter slide of me, my brother John, and friend Tim goofing around in the sign shop at the 1988 National Communications Forum before the advent of iPhones

Last Thursday I traveled to Virginia Beach with my wife to meet my son for a Friday wedding that can only be described as the most meticulously designed event I’ve ever attended. As a creative, I knew we were in for something special – the invitations alone were a dead giveaway, designed by the bride, a young Chicago architect. Printed on thick stock, tied neatly with ribbon, and finished with a delicate conch shell, they were so gorgeous I expected them to reply on our behalf.

As Shazi, Tristan, and I made our way through a sun-drenched late afternoon ceremony into the reception, I couldn’t help but notice the whimsical illustrations sprinkled across every printed surface. Lovely placards embossed with scallops, yin-yang napkin motifs of fish and champagne bottles, even custom French fry holders with the bride and groom’s initials (If you’re wondering whether personalized fry holders elevate the taste of the fries, the answer is yes – absolutely).

Midway through the proceedings, I realized Tristan was running on pure adrenaline and anxiety. He’d flown in the night before from LaGuardia after a series of delays so bad that when he finally walked out of Norfolk airport, the employees were literally locking the doors behind him. Now, instead of soaking up wedding joy, he was juggling entertainment-world crises, cellphone plastered to his ear.

Tristan juggling phone calls at the wedding

From our spot on the Marriott veranda, Shazi and I sipped signature cocktails while Tristan conducted what looked like a one-man Broadway performance: phone wedged to his shoulder, one hand flailing in the Atlantic breeze for emphasis, the other balancing a drink. He’d taken the day off, but judging by the 20 calls, 100 texts, and an inbox that looked liked the inbound Kennedy at rush hour, the Universe hadn’t gotten the memo.

Thankfully, the weekend settled into something resembling relaxation. We enjoyed the Neptune Festival on the boardwalk, explored the historic Cavalier Hotel (where big band legends once played), and sampled seafood so fresh it probably still had cousins swimming nearby. On Sunday, we returned to the airport and, after a tearful goodbye, took our flights back to Chicago and New York.

On the plane, I watched Ben Stiller’s The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. The critics may have been lukewarm, but I’ve always related to Walter’s search for meaning and adventure, perhaps because my own career path has often felt like a series of unexpected leaps from one creative world to another. And as for the film’s version of Nuuk, Greenland—well, this Greenland Shark couldn’t help but chuckle at Hollywood’s ‘close enough’ interpretation.

The film’s story follows Walter, an awkward daydreamer chasing down a missing negative for the final issue of Life magazine. In the end, the big reveal isn’t a jaw-dropping vista or global landmark, but a quiet, candid moment—a reminder that life’s greatest treasures aren’t always headline-worthy, but deeply human.

I’ve seen firsthand how technology has reshaped everything: how we work, how we play, and how often we forget to do either without checking our phones. I began my career doing advertising for Apple before desktop publishing existed. Back then, the world still relied on cameras with film, and printing “strippers” who worked in dark rooms (yes, actual job title, though try explaining that at a cocktail party).

Today, the tools in our pockets are miraculous, but they come at a cost. The more I hunch over my phone or PC, the faster my spine creaks, my eyes tire, and my brain starts buffering like bad Wi-Fi. It’s as if I’m downloading 16GB of words and images daily, only to realize my internal storage is already full.

Yet amid all the noise, one truth remains: the essence of life is still in the fleeting, authentic moments with those we love. Technology may help us record them, but it can’t replace them. As Greenland Sharks, we’ll keep swimming through the shifting tides of progress – but every so often, we should surface, breathe, and remember that the real treasures aren’t in the devices in our hands, but in the connections we hold in our hearts.