The Broad's Side

It seems as though a lot more people are getting married in the fall these days. I did, but clearly we shouldn’t use that as a frame of reference. I usually advise people to do exactly the opposite of anything I do. My neighbors had two weddings in one day last weekend, which led me to recount the details of the worst wedding I’ve ever been a part of. It was a fall wedding, but it occurred on one of those insanely hot Indian Summer days. For whatever reason, I was the maid of honor in this shit show. My two best friends were also in the wedding party, but none of us were really sure why. None of us were particularly good friends with the bride, and quite frankly she was a raging bitch more times than not. She once threw a beer bottle at my face because I asked her why she was using her child support check to take an exotic vacation while her two bastard children needed food and clothing. I thought it was a legitimate line of questioning. I was pretty panic stricken about the fact that the Bride of Chucky expected me to give a speech at the reception. I’m seldom at a loss for words, but I really couldn’t think of anything worth mentioning to the crowd.

Our dresses were candy apple red satin with an empire waist, which evidently is code for fat girl dress. I knew I looked like a complete jackass and I didn’t even care. We arrived at the church approximately 45 minutes late because the bride couldn’t get her act together. She promptly handed me a brush and made me rake her kid’s hair which hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. My next maid of honor responsibility was to make all of the bouquets in the back room of the church an hour after the ceremony was supposed to have begun. My tool kit included a pair of scissors, a roll of ribbon and a garbage can serving as a makeshift 30 gallon vase. As I pulled the calla lilies out of the trash receptacle, the ice cold water dripped down the front of my 1980’s prom style dress. Good thing I wasn’t wearing a bra, because who doesn’t love a spontaneous wet tee shirt imitation at a church? The church was under construction, so there were construction workers in hard hats carrying giant beams and using a jackhammer right outside the stained glass Christ windows. I’m pretty sure one of them winked at me because of my damp, erect nipples. I’m not even sure we had the right to be there. It didn’t appear to me that this particular church should be open at all. The guests were all ripe by this point because they had been sweating it up in this heat box.

Once the ceremony finally started, things went from bad to fucking catastrophic in about two minutes time. That’s the moment when one of the groomsmen took a header down the three little stairs and began rolling around and moaning in front of the altar. Half a dozen people dialed 911 to get the paramedics on the scene. Lucky bastard got to leave in the ambulance while we were all stuck in the stink tank. The dude’s wife was a bridesmaid, so she left as well. Ten minutes in…and we’re down two. The ceremony continued… blah blah blah, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You know the drill. The bride had arranged for a very dramatic and symbolic dove release as we exited the church. The newlyweds launched the doves skyward, and let’s just say the resulting symbolism was not what they were going for. Both doves had been in pet shop boxes with tiny air holes for the duration of the three hour fiasco of a wedding. The bride’s dove didn’t even attempt to fly. It landed lazily on its feet and stumbled away looking like it was participating in a very poor showing of a roadside sobriety test. The groom had some firepower behind his launch. He must have played quarterback for his high school football team. The dove hit the ground with a resounding thud as people shrieked and covered their children’s eyes. The paramedic had already departed, so there was no hope for the dove. One of the groomsmen had to scrape the dove off the pavement and bury it out back. I believe there was actually a crater created by the impact. If a newly married couple sees a pair of cooing doves, it symbolizes a long and happy marriage. So what does it mean if the couple sees a dead dove and a retarded dove on their big day? Doves are a symbol of peace, but I’m pretty sure if one of them is IN PIECES…all bets are off. I wanted to call PETA so they could picket the cocktail hour at the reception.

The untimely passing of the dove ended up bailing me out of a pretty serious jam. When we arrived at the reception hall, the first thing we saw was a decorative birdcage designed to hold wedding cards. I immediately knew that it served a much greater purpose. After some cajoling, we managed to convince a few of the groomsmen to make an emergency run to Target to pick up a CD for me. When the grand entrance occurred, the best man and I walked in carrying the empty birdcage and I gave a very stirring eulogy to the dove. Clearly it was best that we all moved on and tried to enjoy the day regardless of the senseless tragedy. At that point, I introduced the new Mr. and Mrs. Who Cares as they walked in to Prince’s ‘When Doves Cry’. I’m not sure what the original musical selection was, but if their first dance song was any indication, I did everyone a huge favor. Their first dance as a married couple was that awful Starship song ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’, which much to my pleasure happened to be the theme song to ‘Mannequin’. How could I possibly resist performing a series of mannequin poses with my two ugly dress wearing friends? I’m not even sure whether these two idiots are still married, but if I had to take an educated guess I would say Hell No. The message of this story is really geared for all of you assholes who skip the church and head right for the open bar. There were people that missed this! This should be reason enough for you to never again miss the I-Dos.