I’ve talked about my wedding before, so you may already know that the music didn’t play right for my ceremony, and my butterflies were halfway out of a coma when we released them. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
The next mess started during the cocktail hour, while the wedding party was getting pictures taken. This is when I realized that our photographer sucked. We had an even number of people in the party, save for the butterfly girl. One maid of honor, one best man, four bridesmaids, four ushers... The photographer didn’t even line us up symmetrically. All of our pictures are just a big pile of people. No rhyme or reason. And they’re crooked! Our photographs were so awful, we had to go down to the studio and literally yell at them in order to get what we wanted, which ended up being one 20 x 16 print and a few wallets. Everything else was scrapped. Luckily, a few of our friends got some really good pictures.
Then, we’re all getting introduced into the reception. One by one, the DJ is announcing our names, and the group standing outside is dwindling. Pretty soon, it becomes apparent that she’s forgotten the butterfly girl. I sent one of the last attendants out to tell her, and to her credit, she played it off and pretended that the girl was shy, and had been refusing to come out. Of course, that made my little cousin look bad…
Then, it’s time for the first dance. We took lessons for months for this dance. We had a whole routine choreographed. And it was hard. We are not dancers by any means. But we had this down. We did a foxtrot to “Beyond the Sea” by Bobby Darin. There were spins and jazz hands (at my insistence) and everything. And then, about two thirds of the way through our routine, we ran out of room. It seems the dance floor at the reception wasn’t as large as the dance studio. And we got completely lost. We missed one of the big, show-stopping moves, and it just fell apart. I still don’t even know if anyone noticed. The worst part is, what I really wanted to do was the “Thriller” dance, with all of the wedding party playing the zombies, but I scrapped it because I figured they’d never do it. I later found out that everyone totally would have been down with that (please don’t steal it; I really might try a do-over).
We had a photo matte set up on a table with sharpies for everyone to sign. Within minutes, it got buried by gifts, so most people didn’t sign it.
The lady who was running the wedding kept yelling at all the kids for running around (my nephew, who was twelve at the time, actually pulled me aside to tell me she was a bitch).
People were always grabbing at me to hug me and wish me well, so I only got to have two drinks. My husband, meanwhile, got drunk and annoying (I love him, but when he’s drunk and I’m sober, he’s annoying as hell, and he’ll be the first to admit that).
Then the worst thing ever happened. I had a really comprehensive “Do Not Play” list. There are a lot of songs that you would expect to hear at a wedding. Songs every DJ will play. Songs every guest will request. If you’ve been to the wedding of a white couple in America within the past thirty years, you know where I’m going with this… “Livin’ On a Prayer.” I fucking hate that song. In fact, I hate all Bon Jovi songs. So not only did I put Bon Jovi on my “Do Not Play” list, I specifically listed that song. And she friggin’ played it. I was so furious, my maid of honor had to take me out of the room.
So we use that time for a precarious pee-break, and we come back. I’ve calmed down a little. The song’s ending. And then it got worse. Also on my “Do Not Play” list were No Doubt and Gwen Stefani, listed separately, because I’m thorough. So what does this bitch play next? “If I Was a Rich Girl.” Are you kidding me?
Here’s another thing you need to know: my husband’s family is Jewish, so we added a couple Jewish elements to the wedding, like personalized yarmulkes and the breaking of the glass. What we did not add, was the “Hava Nagila” dance. I’m not afraid of heights per se, but I am afraid of untrustworthy heights. For example, I will climb a tree, but I’m terrified of ladders, because they’re rickety. I also don’t trust four drunk men holding a chair above their heads. What do you think that woman played after a “Fiddler on the Roof” cover song? You guessed it. It was awful.
So after all that, the wedding is over, and my husband and I go back to our room to consummate our marriage, and by that I mean rip open the cards and count our money. Our wedding was on a sprawling property with a hotel and cabins and such. So we’d rented out a large cabin for the after party with all of our friends. What we neglected to do, because we were young and poor, was stock the cabin with alcohol. We figured they could do that themselves. By the time we got back to the cabin, there was nothing but a can of Coke and half a bottle of vodka left. Some people had left. Some were passed out. One was trashed beyond belief and yelling about chain saws. So that party pretty much sucked.
Yes, friends, if I could do anything over, I would have another wedding. A wedding where the DJ and photographer listened to me, where we did the dance I wanted, and not the one that could have broken my neck. A wedding where I get to drink, dammit. And guess what. Our tenth anniversary is coming up in a couple of years. Hope your dresses still fit, girls.