Kate McLean

Couples react to news that stay will be lifted, before realizing that it would remain temporarily in place until Aug. 18

My partner and I took a chance today that same-sex marriages might be reinstated. We tried to manage our expectations, knowing it was only a possibility, but we were quickly swept up in the moment once we got to City Hall.

We went early, just after 9:00 a.m., thinking there would be a long line of couples waiting to be wed if Judge Vaughn Walker lifted the ban. After squeezing past a crush of news media and protestors outside the entrance, we made our way to the clerk’s office to find… practically no one.

There were only two couples waiting in line in the hallway. We became the third.

We smiled at our good fortune for being just steps away from marriage, if the stay was lifted. Then my fellow journalists started to arrive, quickly outnumbering the couples, and the few of us hoping to get married found our every move being documented.

When I texted on my cell phone, my photo was taken. Crews videotaped me as I checked an iPad to see if the decision was released. And when I scribbled a note in my notepad, reporters scribbled notes about me scribbling a note.

This went on for three hours.

The line of prospective spouses grew, filling the long hallway. But the media stayed right up near the front. Since I’m usually on the reporting side of a story, it felt a bit surreal.

At about 12:30 p.m., someone – allegedly a City Hall worker – ran into the hallway and shouted, “The stay is lifted!”

The room erupted in elation. The cameras clicked and zoomed.

My partner and I felt a rush of emotion. It was unexpected. Until then it had all been so businesslike for us – printing and filling out forms at home, making sure we had the proper identification, with back-ups in case we were challenged, arranging for witnesses to rendezvous at City Hall, and dealing with our work schedules. I had an interview with a high profile religious leader in the afternoon for an upcoming column. My partner had to teach a class.

We’ve been together for seven and a half years, and we’d planned to get married in December 2008, never having thought that Proposition 8 would pass that November.

So this morning we had been oh-so-practical, dispassionately approaching the day as a legal window of opportunity – we didn’t want to feel duped again. But now that the moment was finally here, feelings overwhelmed us. We held each other tight, eyes welling up.

Then the practical snapped us back to reality.

Who was that person who shouted that the ban was lifted? Is that confirmed? We checked the court website to try to find the ruling. Nothing. A few minutes later the decision appeared and I loaded it onto the screen of an iPad. A crowd gathered around as a man with a booming voice leaned over my shoulder and read the decision to the room.

There would be no marriages today. Perhaps next week.

And the cameras clicked.