Wedding Story
Pink dresses. An outdoor wedding. Two knocked-up bridesmaids and a third who is trashed. Cloudy skies and predictions of rain. An evening wedding with only candles to serve as the lighting-source. A pianist (a sister) who failed to practice the music before the wedding so she punctuates each painful line of music with a variety of swear words. Raise your hand if you still want to have the traditional, princess wedding? After this story, you will be dialing 1-800-IFLYSWA and booking the Elvis chapel at Las Vegas with no regrets or remorse. Even your own mother will help you pack your bags.
Steve and Jenny met at a pool party and it was love after two or three beers, a make-out session in the pool, and a ride in his bad-boy Jeep. Their relationship followed the natural progression and game time ended when he proposed. Jenny swore she wanted a “simple” wedding which in female-speak means, “My parents aren’t as rich as the Hiltons so I want the Jessica Simpson wedding on a Wal-Mart budget.”
No problem. Mom and Dad lived in a nice home and the yard was quite beautiful. Cousin Roberta worked at a flower shop and did beautiful arrangements. Mom sewed so she could handle the dresses. Sister Gail played the piano, so why hire a professional? A family of good cooks, so no caterer needed. Aunt Barbara and Cousins Jim and Mike sang and played the guitar-there’s the band! Next, Jenny went about doing the “little” details such as choosing her colors and choosing the dress patterns.
In our family, we have “sayings” that go along with the wedding colors. For example, “Married in blue, he’ll always be true.” Or, “Married in red, he’ll be good in bed.” Another, “Married in green, your life will be a dream.” Jenny chose pink. Need I say it? “Married in pink, your marriage will stink.” (So far, the family is batting 3 for 3; they’re slow learners.) The mother did a beautiful job of sewing the dresses, but not even Cindy Crawford could effectively pull off pink chiffon while being six months pregnant. Two of the bridesmaids were visibly, painfully pregnant and the flower-teenager was a gawky 13-year old who would not look attractive in anything for another two years or so. Pink just spotlighted her acne and freakishly disproportionate body. So, two pregnant bridesmaids and the other was the malcontent future sister-in-law. She hated the bride, even though they had been friends. Steve and Jenny met at her pool, after all. But, Jenny still thought they were friends and offered her the position of her maid of honor. Dee-Dee accepted.
In a flash the wedding was planned for late September when the leaves would be perfectly fallen-who needs those expensive rose petals? The invitations flew out and the wedding seemed to plan itself it was so easy. What could possibly go wrong?
September 23 dawned cloudless, bright, and warm-a perfect fall day. The doom and gloom meteorologist had said there would be showers, but optimistic Jenny believed that nothing would sabotage her special day. While she was pampering herself and getting ready for pictures, the family was bustling around. Dad was setting up the back yard with chairs; mom was setting out flowers, candles, and so on. Gina, the pianist, decided that she better “practice” before the wedding. Everyone played the march-how difficult could it be? And, the two pregnant sisters took turns trying to make the flower-teenager look somewhat attractive in her dress and braids. Dee-Dee was nowhere to be found.
As guests began to arrive, escorts seated them outside in the waning evening light. Just then, a light sprinkle began to fall upon the guests intermittently. Not enough to run for cover, but enough to wish one weren’t wearing backless pink chiffon. Dad noticed the candles were dying out (and they were the only source of light), so he stalked up to the candles and determinedly attempted to light them (in the rain). His attempts failed and so he disappeared into the garage with purposeful steps.
Time was approaching for the main players to be in their places; Dee-Dee was still missing. Gina was pounding out music on the piano, but she had failed to practice the music and so every painful note was punctuated with “*uck” and “*hit.” The guests pretended not to hear and just exchanged knowing smirks. Just as the profanity and raindrops were dropping with stronger intent, a hulking shadow emerged carrying what appeared to be a deadly weapon. A few guests jumped and moved away-even when the shadow turned out to be Dad carrying his solution to the candle/rain dilemma: a blow-torch. In front of all 60 guests, Dad marched up the aisle and decided to get those candles lit no matter what. And, he was successful.
Unfortunately, the poor candles couldn’t handle the heat and melted down to their holders. The holders were covered by attractive, pink cloth and the whole wedding altar burst into flames. From the house, cries from the pregnant bridesmaids yelled, “Fire! Fire!” and pandemonium broke out. Guests started running and screaming and someone ran for a water-hose. Jenny, the bride, came out and managed to collide with the guest carrying the hose. As she was standing there drenched, her veil plastered against her face, dress wet and heavy, shoes mired in the wet grass, and mascara (apparently not waterproof) drizzling down her face-the formerly MIA father-in-law emerged from behind her with Dee-Dee, the MIA maid of honor. Both were trashed, laughing it up, and having such a delightful time they stumbled into the bride, causing her to fall face-first into the lap of the minister who was sitting in a chair and watching all the chaos with interest. The minister was so embarrassed to have a woman’s face in his groin that he jumped up and pushed Jenny onto the ground. Lightning crashed, thunder rumbled through the valley, and Jenny just sat, dazed, on the ground in her muddy, wet, torn dress that no longer smelled like Pleasures, but rather parfÃ?ºm de le feu.
Helpful guests got the fire out; Aunt Emma fixed the flowers to the best of her ability; and, all silently agreed to ignore the black stains marring the arch, the stench, the rain, and the bride who had still failed to say anything. Well, everyone except the drunk father-in-law and Dee-Dee. The whole situation amused them so much that they got another bottle of JD between the two of them, sat on the front row of chairs, and laughed about what a wreck ol’ Steve was marrying. They loudly discussed the family, the bride’s choice to wear white, the house, and whether or not Jenny was “knocked-up” or not. Thankfully, Gina was back to playing the piano and she was shivering too much to audibly swear.
While the bridesmaids took multiple blow dryers to Jenny, her dress, the veil, and her hair-the guests sat outside in the dark under a nice, light, cold shower of rain. No one dared asked for a candle or light; rather, they just silently endured. Finally, the magic music struck up, signaled the bride’s approach, and there came the bridesmaids first. Bellies bulging out, a graceful waddle, apologetic smiles, and wilted flowers were followed by the escorts carrying portable mechanics’ lights-the ugly, plastic yellow ones that literally blind anyone who looks at them directly. The drunken maid of honor stumbled up the aisle, pausing periodically to catch her breath and put her boobs back into the dress. She smelled of booze, puke, and fire and the guests visibly gagged as she lurched by them.
Finally! The guests stood to welcome the bride and Gina pounded out, “Here Comes the Bride” with intensity and passion. Unfortunately, she also hit a wrong note and a particularly colorful four-letter word echoed through the night. Dee-Dee started laughing, which led to her snorting, and she fell on the ground. The minister helped her back up, but not before her boobs fell out of the dress again and he got an eyeful right in the face. Jenny started walking and amazingly, she still looked beautiful-even with the yellow, plastic light trailing behind her. She smiled, kept walking, thanked everyone for coming, and marched with the determination of a soldier reaching home. Steve waited for her with a smile, they joined hands, and . . .
The minister, who was told to “keep it short,” seemed traumatized by the night’s events and inspired, at the same time. Apparently, the combination of fire and rain struck him as a type of baptism and he spoke for thirty minutes on their symbolism and the blessing it would have on the union. Meanwhile, it kept raining. It was a total of forty-five minutes before he was through and they were pronounced man and wife.All the guests were soaked, babies were crying, and the bride just stood there like a tragic princess doll that had been mauled by a pack of hungry hyenas.
The reception was quiet and short; Dee-Dee and her father passed out shortly after the ceremony; and, nearly all the guests came down with colds within the next week. The happy couple-so blessed, according to the minister-were married five years before they filed for divorce. The moral? Dad had offered Jenny a deal when Steve proposed: “I’ll give you the ladder and $500.00 if you will elope. Big weddings in our family end badly.” She should have took it and ran.
So, ladies and gentlemen: if you have to choose between the wedding of your dreams and the honeymoon of your dreams – just say the three smartest words in the English language, “Las Vegas, baby.”
