I feel like most wedding-related blogs cover one of two topics:
1. Offering helpful advice. (2% of blogs)
2. Talking about disastrous things that can happen at weddings but using enough humor so as to not cause brides to hyperventilate. (98% of blogs)
And when I say “most wedding blogs” I mean “mine.”
So I wanted to play a game this week. Forget the funny horror stories. I wanted to write about some my favorite memories from weddings that I’ve attended. And I created some rules for this game:
1. I can’t write about my own wedding. I loved my own wedding. But I also know that I’m not even remotely subjective about that night. I could spend hours praising my wife for her selection of cheeses served during our reception’s cocktail hour, but I’m not sure if that would be interesting for anyone besides her, me, and the makers of Humboldt Fog goat cheese.
2. The moment has to have cost less than a hundred dollars. Anyone can entertain when they have a budget that equals the GBP of New Zealand. And I’ll be the first to admit that big, fancy weddings are usually really fun. But saying that one of my fondest wedding memories was the time I ate my own weight at a Peking Duck stations is sort of embarrassing. And shallow. And maybe true.
3. Each team will get three timeouts per half. Actually, this might be a rule for something else.
Here we go!
The time my friend Chris pretended he was a cop
Chris and I were both groomsmen at a wedding in New York City. And as the bride and groom walked around Battery Park taking pictures, a policeman comes up and tells them that they can’t take any pictures without a permit, which, of course, they don’t have. Luckily, Chris happened to be working for the city parks department at that time. For whatever reason, Chris’s job came with a badge and, even more amazingly, Chris had the badge on him. So Chris confidently walks over to the cop, flashes the parks department badge, and tries to hammer out a deal. The rest of us were pretty sure Chris was about to go spend the night in jail.
Just to repeat: my friend who worked for the parks department tried to impress a New York City police officer with a badge.
But whatever Chris said worked, because after a few minutes, he returns to the group and told the bride and groom they had a fifteen minute window to finish up the pictures.
Later, over a beer, Chris tells me: “I had no idea what I was doing.”
The time my parents danced at a wedding (which is to say: any time they’re at a wedding)
I kid my parents about growing up in the era of sock hops, poodle skirts, and Gidget, but every time I’m at a wedding with them, I realize they’re the ones who should be laughing. Those two crazy kids can really cut a rug!
And what’s particularly satisfying about watching my parents dance is that they’re not concerned with how they look while they’re boogying down. Every time I dance at a wedding, I can’t go more than a couple of minutes before I think, “The band has got to be laughing at me, right?” whereas, my dad thinks, “The band thinks I’m the coolest wedding guest of all time, right?”
The time my wife thought I was hitting on the hot bridesmaid
On the surface, this would seem like a memory I should want to forget. But give me a little credit: I wasn’t actually hitting on the hot bridesmaid. But it definitely looked that way. Here’s what happened...
By some stroke of luck, I was randomly seated next to the hot bridesmaid. I’m sure the move wasn’t completely devoid of all thought by the bride and groom. Modesty aside, I’m a fairly good conversationalist. I’m also married, which meant that with the hot bridesmaid seated next to me I would be (a) entertaining and (b) safe.
At one point my wife – who is not the jealous type at all but nevertheless made sure she was part of every conversation I was having with the hot bridesmaid – admired a ring the bridesmaid was wearing. So when my wife got up to got to the bathroom, I asked the bridesmaid where she got the ring, hoping it was from a nearby store. She said it was from a friend of hers who was a jeweler, but she could get me one to give to my wife. She wrote down her e-mail address...just as my wife was returning from the bathroom. My wife tried to play it cool, but finally, in the hotel room later that night, she had to ask.
My wife: Were you and that bridesmaid exchanging numbers?
Me: No. She just gave me her e-mail.
My wife: Why?
Me: She had a project for which she might need a writer. Wanted me to send her an e-mail.
My wife: What sort of project?
Me: Um...you know. A writing-type project.
My wife then took a very angry bath, and called it a night. It wasn’t until her birthday six weeks later that it all fell into place. When she opened the box and saw the ring that the bridesmaid had been wearing, it was magic. My wife had the ring she admired and realized at once that in no way was the hot bridesmaid hitting on me. They were the two best presents I’ve ever gotten her.
The wedding where the flower girl made mini softballs with the rose petals and then chucked them at people as she walked down the aisle
The best part was the flower girl’s mom, who was smiling and clapping as though this had been the exact way they had rehearsed it.
***
The thing that’s so interesting about all these stories is that in none of them can I remember the details that the bride and groom spent hours worrying about. I can’t tell you what color ties the groomsmen were wearing, what I ate for dinner, or the name of the bride and groom’s first dance (although there’s a ninety-four percent chance it was “Fly Me to the Moon,” “The Way You Look Tonight” or “At Last”).
These details need to be planned out, of course, but often it’s the impromptu ones that wind up leaving a lasting impression (along with a Peking Duck station).
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