No, no, surely not, say it ain't so! Certainly, Carlos Cuevas, the city clerk of New York will have none of it. "Simply, it's love," he says to me, and he says it over and over again to the many sceptical reporters who have come to City Hall to witness this mad dash for the altar. Never mind that the queues down the corridor aisles and out the revolving doors are three times as long as they were this time last year.
They are all here to get hitched. Some wear wedding dresses, some wear jeans and sneakers. Almost all have at least two things in common: there is something white in the outfits they have chosen for the big day, be it a baseball cap or a white t-shirt; and, they are marrying a legal resident of the US. "I met him a year ago at the gas station," one girl - a US citizen - says. "He pumped my gas." He proposed two months ago - a bit rushed, no? "We are in love," she gushes. When I tell her about clause 245(i) she feigns complete ignorance.
Over 600,000 of the estimated six million illegal immigrants in the US qualify for clause 245(i), which allows them to apply for legal US residence without leaving the country. Usually, one must apply at the US Consulate in one's own country and remain outside the US until the application has been processed, a procedure which can take anything from three to 10 years. Illegal immigrants who qualify for clause 245(i) have either a close relative or employer in the US who holds a US passport or a green card, and who is willing to sponsor them, or . . . are married to someone with a US passport or a US green card.
It is not difficult to get married in the US. All you need is some form of legal identification. Then, you go down to City Hall and buy a licence for $30. You come back 24 hours later and pay for the ceremony. $25. Pretty cheap really.
And the ceremony is over in a flash. Five minutes, maximum. For the majority of this crowd, however, there are a few hidden expenses. They must pay a $1,000 fine for living illegally in the US. Most would have needed to hire an immigration lawyer - costing anything from $300 to $3,000 - to go through the morass of paperwork which had to be submitted to the Immigration and Naturalisation Service (INS) before the deadline at the end of last month. So it has been a busy few months at city halls all over the US.
Joyce in the City Hall Executive Offices looks like she's been on the phone all day. When I tell her I'm a reporter her eyes glaze over. Another one. "We are not permitted to comment on anything to do with the INS," she says. I get the impression she has uttered that line many times. "You should speak with my boss." The city clerk - the man who believes in love.
I suggest to Cuevas that people will do whatever it takes to get a green card, even marry, and ask him if there is any follow-up on the part of City Hall. He shakes his head. "Not by this office," he says, "maybe by the INS".
Down the hall the outer chapel is crammed full. The gas station girl is not as pretty or as happy as she was two hours ago. She looks frustrated. Her ceremony was supposed to go ahead at 3.30 p.m. It's now 4.10 p.m. and she flounces through the throng. Maybe she's on her way to the bathroom . . .
Happily, there is some element of true love in that outer chapel on deadline day. Alma Rodriquez is going to marry Omar Torres from Mexico. "Alma," she explains, "means soul." She and Omar met two-and-a-half years ago and have been together since. "We would have liked to have spent more time," she says, "to organise a party," but they decided to use clause 245(i).
She and her friend, Sandra, spent days and nights working on her dress, an intricate design of embroidered lace and beadwork. Alma wears the Sacred Heart on her neck and earrings shaped like hearts on her ears.
When the ceremony is over they want to go to Central Park and take "official" wedding photographs. The clinical pale blue walls of this outer chapel do not suffice. Omar is not sure that he can get the time off work, so Alma tells him to ring. Their names are called out from the front, and full of smiles, the ordeal almost over, they head to the altar.
Is it my imagination or is Omar just that little bit over-eager? After all, there's nothing like a carrot in the shape of a green card to get you to the church on time . . . right?