It’s not a wedding without a little drama
So there I was in my brand new suit. In my left jacket pocket was a marriage license, ready to be signed, and directly to my left stood the groom.
I stood there waiting for the bride to walk down the brick path to the forest grove adorned with chairs and the only thing I could think was “God, I need a drink.”
Overall, it was a remarkable wedding filled with crying (even by the groom), dove releases, a sand ceremony and lots of liquor. But, most importantly of all, it had just enough drama to hold my fascination for the entire evening.
Cause that’s what I hope for at weddings: A reasonable amount of drama.
Come on, let’s be honest, unless you are close to the wedding party or getting paid to be there, you want dirt, gossip and otherwise awkward situations to arise because it gives you a good story to tell later.
Sometimes it’s a drunken ex who gives an “I’m over you” toast or maybe a fight between the mothers of the bride and groom or ” if you are really lucky ” it’s an actual fight within the wedding party that involves crying.
I love it when they cry at weddings.
You will know when the moment comes because the first thought that goes through your head will be “man I wish I had some popcorn.”
Standing there in a rain in Genesee, Colo., I thought that maybe the weather would be the big drama for the day, either that or the officiant would screw up and say something stupid.
Oh wait, I’m the officiant.
I needn’t have worried, because just the tension from the potential drama was enough to keep me interested.
Let me set the scene. There’s a bridesmaid and a groomsman who used to be engaged until she broke it off and both of them brought their new significant others.
Add liquor and “Let’s get ready to rumble!!!!”
Nope. Nada. They were nothing but civil to each other.
The mothers were both getting along wonderfully and everything appeared to be going smoothly and I admit it, I began wishing for something to happen.
Not something horrible, like the wedding cake falling down (although I considered it) or someone getting hurt (like that annoying little twerp who discovered the bell on the table), but something to excite my craving for unrest.
Ceremony: Nothing. Pictures: Nothing. Open bar: Nothing.
Then, the DJ didn’t show up and the scramble began.
The hall was abuzz with the smell of drama. Someone would have to announce the couple when they entered, with no notes and no prep time. Whatever poor sucker they chose was screwed and I could revel in their awkwardness. Bring on the popcorn, it was perfect.
Until I found out it was me.
The only thing I could think of as I walked to the doorway was, “Hey God, how ’bout that drink?”
– Jarid Shipley is the Feature’s Editor for the Nevada Appeal. Contact him a firstname.lastname@example.org or 881-1217.