matrimonial madness
Not that I dont love them. I really do. No, really. Its just.....well, let me start at the beginning.
We arrive at the wedding at 2:30 and beers are already being downed like its happy hour in Tiajauna. The bridesmaids are in a tizzy getting thier hair done and the groomsmen are taking shots of jager meister upstairs. The crowd mills around uncomfortabley at first-smiling tensly at all the people we havent seen forever-many since highschool. I am so glad to see many of them-and honestly dont recognize alot of them. A few more beers though and I am Chatty Cathy with everyone in the joint.
Then its time for the wedding. Despite the torrential downpour all around us the tent kept everyone relatively dry. The man behind me brought three beers with him to his seat. He didnt know anyone there but his girlfriend and proceeded to make rude comments about the ceremony. Unbelievable. We all gave him dirty looks and his girlfriend told him to shut up. The ceremony itself was lovely and precious. The bride and groom's adorable two year old was the flower girl and the proud parents beamed as they looked at her. The vows were short and sweet and everyone looked so good. "We're all grown up" I thought to myself, and I shed a few tears between pictures-it was a wedding after all.
The ceremony was over, and so were the niceties apparently. About 10 minutes after the vows took place a fistfight erupted in the driveway. Someones drunk boyfriend got in a fight with his girlfriends brother. The front window to her car was broken out and the brother proceeded to throw punches so loud I could hear them 20 feet away. Womens screams filled the air, and the gaiety of the night seemed to be over. But, they convinced someone to drive the instigator of the fight away and told people to party on. So we did.
There were five cops at the bottom of the driveway(arresting people mind you), but that didnt stop the wedding from going on...and on. The toasts were next and we all gathered under the canopy once again, feeling that normalcy was being restored at last. In the middle of the speech, one the of the groomsmen drops the "F bomb" and by that I mean, he said "Fuck" really loud and drunkenly in front of everyone-old people and kids alike. Everyone seemed to be too buzzed or shocked to care and after the gate had been lifted, if you will it was all "F bombs" all the way through the toasts. They were capped off by a raucous "Fuckin A", utterd by the most punk and tattood among the groomsmen. With that-it was cake cutting time.
The bride and groom did their duty and the cake was cut. It was adorable. The cuteness was cut short however, when the groomsmen burst in and starting smearing cake all over the groom while french kissing him. Thats right, I said it: the groom and groomsmen were frenching eachother while smearing the cake down eachothers suits. The young and drunk laughed loudly and took pictures. The old and sober and old and drunk alike, stared on in disbelief and embarresment. The really young paid no mind and had thier own game of stealing the cake and throwing at eachother. I looked around. The majority of the party was three sheets(more like 10 sheets actually) to the wind and it wasnt even 7pm. The night was young, and their was mischief in the air.
A couple of hours passed and the bride and groom left for their honeymoon. The rest of us mill around, trying to figure out what we are going to do. We decide to hit the bars. A terribel idea, but inevitable anyway you look at it. So we go. The sober drive(god bless em) and we squish in back of various cars. The bar is packed and kareoke is going strong. Another fist fight breaks out before we even get inside. Once inside, we get served: the most shocking part of the evening. And so it goes. For hours. Bad songs. More drinks. Recipes for disaster being brewed and carried out. We get 86ed. I wonder why it took so long. One of the groomsmen was so upset by this, he went outside and pressed his testicle to the window of the restaurarnt side where people are eating. No, I am not joking, and yes, they proceeded to drink even more.
Me? I dont hold my liquor so well(which I have counted as a blessing more and more as I get older), and had to have my friends escort me back to the house where we were crashing. I, apparently had my moment of drama too and ran away in a drunken stupor yelling at them as I fled. They caught me however and, bless their hearts, took me to the house and put me to bed. By bed I mean blanket on the floor. I remember passing out to sounds of the walls shaking. Another fight.
I awoke in the morning totally disoriented and yearning for the loo. I find it downstairs. On the way down, there is a trail of blood, and the bathroom floor is coverd in it. Bloody shirts hung in the shower. One of the groomsmen was passed out in his suit with bloodstains on him, a beer still in his hand. I felt like death. I was dirty and stinky and I wanted to go home. I love my old friends, I really do. But, everytime I go away and come back I seem to forget how crazy they are. So, so crazy.
It was a punk rock wedding if I ever did see, and the bride and groom were so cute and happy. That was the most important thing. The rest of the night however, can be summed up in these two words: so highschool. After witnessing the madness of the evening my thoughts about the idea of matrimony could be summed up in these four words: "I am so eloping."
We arrive at the wedding at 2:30 and beers are already being downed like its happy hour in Tiajauna. The bridesmaids are in a tizzy getting thier hair done and the groomsmen are taking shots of jager meister upstairs. The crowd mills around uncomfortabley at first-smiling tensly at all the people we havent seen forever-many since highschool. I am so glad to see many of them-and honestly dont recognize alot of them. A few more beers though and I am Chatty Cathy with everyone in the joint.
Then its time for the wedding. Despite the torrential downpour all around us the tent kept everyone relatively dry. The man behind me brought three beers with him to his seat. He didnt know anyone there but his girlfriend and proceeded to make rude comments about the ceremony. Unbelievable. We all gave him dirty looks and his girlfriend told him to shut up. The ceremony itself was lovely and precious. The bride and groom's adorable two year old was the flower girl and the proud parents beamed as they looked at her. The vows were short and sweet and everyone looked so good. "We're all grown up" I thought to myself, and I shed a few tears between pictures-it was a wedding after all.
The ceremony was over, and so were the niceties apparently. About 10 minutes after the vows took place a fistfight erupted in the driveway. Someones drunk boyfriend got in a fight with his girlfriends brother. The front window to her car was broken out and the brother proceeded to throw punches so loud I could hear them 20 feet away. Womens screams filled the air, and the gaiety of the night seemed to be over. But, they convinced someone to drive the instigator of the fight away and told people to party on. So we did.
There were five cops at the bottom of the driveway(arresting people mind you), but that didnt stop the wedding from going on...and on. The toasts were next and we all gathered under the canopy once again, feeling that normalcy was being restored at last. In the middle of the speech, one the of the groomsmen drops the "F bomb" and by that I mean, he said "Fuck" really loud and drunkenly in front of everyone-old people and kids alike. Everyone seemed to be too buzzed or shocked to care and after the gate had been lifted, if you will it was all "F bombs" all the way through the toasts. They were capped off by a raucous "Fuckin A", utterd by the most punk and tattood among the groomsmen. With that-it was cake cutting time.
The bride and groom did their duty and the cake was cut. It was adorable. The cuteness was cut short however, when the groomsmen burst in and starting smearing cake all over the groom while french kissing him. Thats right, I said it: the groom and groomsmen were frenching eachother while smearing the cake down eachothers suits. The young and drunk laughed loudly and took pictures. The old and sober and old and drunk alike, stared on in disbelief and embarresment. The really young paid no mind and had thier own game of stealing the cake and throwing at eachother. I looked around. The majority of the party was three sheets(more like 10 sheets actually) to the wind and it wasnt even 7pm. The night was young, and their was mischief in the air.
A couple of hours passed and the bride and groom left for their honeymoon. The rest of us mill around, trying to figure out what we are going to do. We decide to hit the bars. A terribel idea, but inevitable anyway you look at it. So we go. The sober drive(god bless em) and we squish in back of various cars. The bar is packed and kareoke is going strong. Another fist fight breaks out before we even get inside. Once inside, we get served: the most shocking part of the evening. And so it goes. For hours. Bad songs. More drinks. Recipes for disaster being brewed and carried out. We get 86ed. I wonder why it took so long. One of the groomsmen was so upset by this, he went outside and pressed his testicle to the window of the restaurarnt side where people are eating. No, I am not joking, and yes, they proceeded to drink even more.
Me? I dont hold my liquor so well(which I have counted as a blessing more and more as I get older), and had to have my friends escort me back to the house where we were crashing. I, apparently had my moment of drama too and ran away in a drunken stupor yelling at them as I fled. They caught me however and, bless their hearts, took me to the house and put me to bed. By bed I mean blanket on the floor. I remember passing out to sounds of the walls shaking. Another fight.
I awoke in the morning totally disoriented and yearning for the loo. I find it downstairs. On the way down, there is a trail of blood, and the bathroom floor is coverd in it. Bloody shirts hung in the shower. One of the groomsmen was passed out in his suit with bloodstains on him, a beer still in his hand. I felt like death. I was dirty and stinky and I wanted to go home. I love my old friends, I really do. But, everytime I go away and come back I seem to forget how crazy they are. So, so crazy.
It was a punk rock wedding if I ever did see, and the bride and groom were so cute and happy. That was the most important thing. The rest of the night however, can be summed up in these two words: so highschool. After witnessing the madness of the evening my thoughts about the idea of matrimony could be summed up in these four words: "I am so eloping."
posted by Selené Emrys at 1:05 PM
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