Here Comes the Bride…

If you say you are not ready to order when I come by for the 15th time.  Don’t get pissy when you have to wait for me to come back to order.  I was patient.  How about a little patience on your part.

The wedding.

We arrive back at the Inn for the wedding around 4:10 or so.  The day is beautiful if not a little hot.  There is not a single cloud in the sky.  The sky is that color of blue that if I put it on stage people would say the sky would never be that color.  The grass is that perfect shade of green that can only be obtained in Southern California by watering the hell out of it.  The windmill is turning, the flowers are in full bloom.  Iced tea, lemonade and water are being served on the lawn as the guest mingle.  The day is damn near perfect.

We are exhausted, tired and thirsty.  We head toward the lemonade, but we are ambushed.  The mother of the groom catches us.  We exchange our hellos.  Adam and I both comment on the day, the place, the flowers, the wedding.  She is having none of that.  She clearly wants to discuss something…the minister.  She was pretty much appalled at his behavior the night before.  The inappropriate jokes.  The drinking.  The smarminess.  She wanted to know if she was the only one not drinking the kool-aid.  (Actually she may have said that after the wedding but I know she did say it).  Adam and I stood their and listened to her.  Nodding appropriately.  Saying…”right”, “I agree”, “you don’t say.”  At one point she told us that she’d really like to tell us what she thought of him, but she was too much of a Christian to say it.  The Wizard of Oz reference did not go unnoticed.

We were both amazed at how much she went on and on about this.  Of course neither of us were drinking the kool-aid either.  His behavior was inappropriate.  He did drink too much.  He was smarmy.  He had no sense of decorum.  He had no sense of occasion.  We knew all of this and we’d only had dinner with him the night before.  All three of our opinions were confirmed during the ceremony and the reception.  But the minister gets a whole post of his own.

By now it’s 4:45.  We still don’t have lemonade.  And the wedding was supposed to start 15 minutes ago.  I excuse myself and go get Adam and I lemonade and the mother of the groom water.  I make my way back to give them their drinks.  By this time other people have joined them and luckily the topic of conversation has changed.  I enter the conversation as they are discussing what time the wedding will really start.  I tell them it’s actually okay.  The vows are never supposed to start when the minute hand is falling.  It’s bad luck.  So she has about 15 minutes to get out here.  My guess is early.  Someone actually says they don’t think she’ll appear until 5:30.  We excuse ourselves and go to find a seat.  By this time of course everyone is seated and there aren’t two chairs together.  I whisper to Adam that after the work we’ve been doing we are NOT standing and we are NOT sitting apart.  Someone gets up and comes over and after some moving around we get two seats together.

By now it’s after 5:00 and the ceremony hasn’t started.  I think it finally began around 5:15, 5:20.

There is a hush.  The guitarist changes his song and plays the first song listed on the program.  The program that Adam designed, printed, I punched holes in, and strung ribbon through, that Adam tied in a bow.  That program.  According to said program the wedding was starting.  We get the first song.  Then a friend gets up and sings a song that no one can hear because I think someone told him to whisper.  I’m a little annoyed because he’s an actor.  The first thing you learn in action class is how to be an “ice cream cone” and how to project.  As he sings father of the groom comes in.  The mother’s of the bride come in.  The go to the table behind where the wedding is taking place, and pour wine from two bottles in to one glass.  Then they take a drink.  (We are not sure what this was about.  We get the pouring of the wine, but not the drinking).  They sit.  The flower brats girls come in.  Actually they were quite beautiful.  Then the maid of honor.

The music shifts again.

And finally.

Finally.

The bride.  She is beautiful.  Adam saw her in the wedding dress on the previous Saturday.  I wanted to wait until the wedding.  She is beautiful.  Stunning.  Of course one could ask if there are ugly brides.  I once thought the same thing about babies, until my cousin Tony was born.  He was the ugliest child I’d ever seen in my life.  He was ugly till he was about three and now he’s very handsome.  I digress.  She is beautiful.  Her father escorts her down the aisle.

The vows begin.

The exchanging of the vows in theory should have been wonderful.  They included a number of different elements that I liked.  The traditional vows.  The love, honor, obey stuff.  They actually left out the obey part.  They had an exchange of vows they wrote themselves.  And several other things.  Yes in theory it should have been great.

EXCEPT FOR THE FUCKING MINISTER.

FUCKING.

MINISTER.

I just wanted to slap him.

I digress.

Again.

The ceremony is over.  The bride walks back up the aisle as two of their friends sing.

It’s over.

Adam and I jump up and head over to the reception area.  We want to make sure everything is ready to go.

Everything is under control.

We light the lanterns.

We light the luminaries.

We both get glasses of wine.

We plant ourselves just inside the door of the reception hall so that all the fucking guests will keep their goddamn asses out of the reception until the house is open.  They keep poking their heads in, to see how it looks.

IT LOOKS FUCKING GREAT.  MY BOYFRIEND AND I HAVE BEEN WORKING AROUND THE CLOCK FOR FOUR DAYS AND IT LOOKS FUCKING GREAT.  NOW GET YOUR GODDAMN ASSES OUT OF HERE BEFORE I GO ALL BALLISTIC ON YOUR ASSES!!!!

While we are standing there, Adam decides we should reserve our places at our table.  The tables have been assigned but not the chairs.  We want to make sure that we can sit together and be facing the front of the room  He picks out chairs for us.

And thus begins the waiting.

Does it really take 90 minutes to take photos.

I could remove your appendix and give you a boob job in the amount of time it takes to take photos after a wedding.  I’m hungry and I don’t get to eat until you get your asses in here.

Finally we get the word that everything is ready to go.

We open the house.  (Opening the house is a theater term.  It means letting the audience into the theater).

Everyone mingles and finds their seats.

Turns out we are at the kids table.  Two of the flower girls, and the ring bearer are at our table.  Did we piss someone off.  I look up and discover the minister is sitting with the groom’s parents.  His mom must be loving that.

Finally after 27 hours.  The door to the hall is opened and the bride and groom are presented.  Thank fucking god.  We can eat.

The rest is pretty normal.  There were toasts.  And toasts.  And toasts.

Adam was in charge of making sure the music was the right volume in the room.  So when someone got up to speak, he would run in the other room and turn down the music.  When they finished he would get up and turn it back up.  It had been prearranged that when the best man got up to toast a certain song would be played and the volume would be turned up a little.  Adam had no more than sat down after starting the song and turning up the volume that someone turned it down.  Seems an old man on the other side of the room decided it was too loud.  Ugh.  Ugh.  Ugh.  We compromised and turned it up a little.

And the toasts continued.  Their was crying.  And photos.  And gossiping.  And chatting.

The food was good.  There was alcohol.

Finally dinner was over and it was time to dance.  There was a dance floor set up in the entry to the reception hall.  (The dance floor was laid crooked which still bothers me.  Would it have been too much to make sure it was parallel to the wall when you were laying it?)  And we all stood around hanging out.

Adam and I were exhausted.  But all of our hard work had paid off and everyone seemed pleased with the outcome.  I leaned over and asked Adam if perhaps when we got back to the hotel we could build a fire in our fireplace, crack open a bottle of wine, and just relax.  He said he thought that was a great idea but didn’t know where we were going to get wine.  I told him I’d take care of it and I went to Bethany, the hotel lady, and asked her for a bottle of wine.  She not only gave us wine but gave us a cork screw and glasses.  I love Bethany.

And the dancing continued.

And then it was 10:00.

And the dancing stopped.

The lights were turned on.

The reception was over.

So everyone began to gather up their belongings and move back to the hotel to change clothes so they could go the bar down the hill.

Adam and I lingered.

And lingered.

And lingered.

WILL YOU FUCKING PEOPLE GO AWAY SO WE CAN GO HOME????

Finally everyone was gone.

I thought we were just going to close up and go home.

Adam thought we were going to clean up.

He won.

So we spent the next 30 minutes after everyone else had gone, picking up, blowing out candles, throwing away luminaries, bringing in our stuff from the outdoor tables.  I did as I was told.

I WAS PISSED THOUGH.

We’d spent five days doing this and not a single person offered to help.  NOT ONE SINGLE FUCKING PERSON!!!!

We finished.

And we went to the bar.

The father of the bride bought us a drink.

We chatted.

We finished our drinks.

We got in our car and made our way back to the hotel.

Where we promptly fell asleep.

No fire.

No wine.

No sex.

I’m really starting to not like this trip to California.

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2 thoughts on “Here Comes the Bride…

  1. Lemuel September 17, 2009 / 07:20

    It all sounds rather typical for a wedding. I shouted ‘Amen’ at your comment on wedding photography!! (and it had nothing to do with the effing minister 😉 )
    Did I ever tell you how much I hate weddings? No? then you are the only one. Consider yourself told.

  2. javabear September 18, 2009 / 07:25

    From what I read, this wedding (like most weddings I’ve been to)(including mine) was way too complicated. It’s really a simple procedure. I don’t know why people want to complicate the hell out of it.

    The photography pisses me off. Our photographer took pictures for-fucking-ever. I think my mother is the only one who is pleased about all the pictures the fool took, even after 26 years. And he wasn’t even a very good photographer.

    How long did you stay in California after the wedding? Did you have another day to just enjoy yourselves?

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