When is the wedding fun going to be over?
I think we all go to other people’s weddings as a reminder to ourselves why we should only get married once.
And who can turn down free drinks and a five-course buffet?
Girls spend their entire lives dreaming of a wedding, and boys spend most of their lives dreading one. If only the time and effort that were put into planning the weddings were spent instead on the marriage, then there might be more happily ever-afters.
I went to a childhood friend’s wedding in Wilmington last weekend. My husband conveniently had to work. He was first interested by the fact that the wedding was near the shore, but was instantly turned off when ‘wedding’ reached his ears. He, like most men, hates weddings. I’m surprised he agreed come to ours.
I was meeting up with my friend Jarrod. He was helping ‘coordinate’ so we had to be there early. I was being rushed out the door when the guys were going to the ceremony, and I had my hair up in curlers.
Good thing I hurried; we were two hours early. I walked into the country club, looking for a bathroom to finish the beautification process. The photographer stood there, only too happy to snap ten pictures of me in my curlers. I’m sure that’s just what the bride wanted in her album.
I eventually got ready, but not before the photographer caught me again putting on lipstick. Who was this guy anyway?
After that I decided to hide out in the bar, so by the time the wedding began I was ready for anything. The ceremony was going smoothly until ring time came around. The matron of honor was motioning madly at her husband at the back of the tent, pointing at her ring finger. The whispering soon spread through the tent, ‘“Oh, she forgot the ring.’”
Being a good journalist, I seized the moment. I got a great picture of the matron’s panic’— the strained neck, wrinkled brows, the bugged eyes. The shutter caught it all right before the bride found out. It was classic.
Luckily the ceremony was short and after an hour of hors d’oeuvres and small talk it was on to the reception. It was a nice dinner. One of the last weddings I was guest at my husband found a hair tucked snugly under his Salisbury steak. Thankfully, this dinner was much better, and I almost licked the plate clean.
Now it was on to the reception. The music was provided by a DJ too drunk to realize he played YMCA twice, but not incapacitated enough to play ‘“Stairway to Heaven.’” As if the slurring of the words didn’t give it all away, he announced the new couple as Mike and Wendy Anderson, when in fact their last name is Kelly.
The groom had a surprise up his sleeve. He had asked the DJ to play the song that was playing when they got engaged. A nice gesture, had the DJ not played that song while the groom was in the bathroom.
In the DJ’s defense, he told the best man that he hadn’t had a drink since March 23. But, as the best man, pointed out, ‘“If you’ve counting the days since something, you’ve probably got a problem.’”
At weddings there is always one guy trying to keep the party flowing. One of the Navy’s finest, the bride’s brother, made this his duty. If anyone was in the general vicinity of the bar, the brother would yell out, ‘“Hey, you need a drink?’” then to the bartender, ‘“Put it on my tab.’” His wife was overheard saying at the end of the night, ‘“Your tab is how much?’”
After months of planning and a hectic week of in-laws, I’m sure it was great that it all ended with a group of friends hanging out on the beach. We all sat around, trying to convince someone to jump in the frigid Atlantic. After a few hours of tossing around a glow-in-the-dark football, the bride got a hankering for Taco Bell. Not knowing where one was, she settled for the grocery store. She came back with six family-sized pizzas and a bag of Doritos. When asked why she got six large pizzas for six people, the bride replied, ‘“They were three for $10, so I bought six.’” Oh, the logic of a person who has been sipping champagne for 12 hours.