Wedding From Hell

Wedding From Hell

 

Since we’re getting close to Halloween I figured I would base these articles on things that are frightening, scary and horrifying…yeah, I guess they’re all pretty much the same thing. But, could I get you to shell out twenty-five bucks admission to my haunted house or mansion if it was only one of those?

We were invited to a wedding…I won’t tell you if they were friends, family, what side of the family…because I will probably see these people again.

The Catholic Mass started at 4 o’clock. Yes, I know the words Catholic and Mass are scary together. Did you not see what I’m doing here?

You kind of have to attend the mass. You can’t just show up for the fun part and not expect people to bad mouth you. That’s where they get you.

Anyway, if you’ve ever sat through a Catholic Mass, you know they are usually long and boring. This one did not disappoint. Not only did we have to deal with the usual rituals…You know, the standing, kneeling, occasional sitting, listening to people with horrible voices sing, shaking hands with strangers…applying Purel…

What made this different, was this Priest thought he was entertaining. I’ve been in the presence of an occasional Priest with a sense of humor. They are few and far between…This guy was really far between.

On the few occasions as an adult when I am forced to attend Mass, I always appreciate it when they can keep it under an hour. Fifty minutes, say goodnight and leave them wanting more.

This guy stretched the Mass out to one hour twenty minutes…and it wasn’t a good hour and twenty. He started telling this story about a woman he knows or used to know…I can’t tell you, I blanked out right away.

I blame the few people who chuckled at something he said early on. I don’t know if they were pity laughs or if they thought this guy actually works for God and were kissing up. They couldn’t have thought he was funny.

The story kept getting longer…he kept repeating things…what he thought were punchlines were just boring statements. You should never want to heckle anyone, especially a Priest, but I almost stood up and screamed,

“You suck…Jesus didn’t die for this sin of an act!”

Just to be nice, after the service, I handed him one of my business cards and told him,

“I teach and offer private coaching for stand-up comedy. E-mail me, I can help.”

We finally got to the reception and I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since morning before I went to the gym. At least I would be eating soon.

After finding our table, we went to the bar. My wife got a drink and I got a beer. I was looking around for appetizers, but they weren’t out yet. Should be coming any minute.

I was talking to someone at the table when I noticed the portable bars being wheeled out of the room.

“That’s odd…we just got here.”

At that point the DJ announced the wedding party had arrived and introduced each of them and then the bride and groom…

Let’s call tem Paula and Jeffrey. Just for the sake of having names. For all you know, they could’ve been Paul and Jennifer. It doesn’t add anything…not without the last name anyway.

Once they were seated, I started looking for the bars to be wheeled back into the room. They weren’t coming. Started to look for appetizers…not happening.

Then the announcement came. Something about how the bar would be closed and the food wouldn’t be served because they wanted everyone’s full attention for the toasts.

All I heard, was the bar would be closed…

They introduced the bride’s father.

Usually they only say a few words, something about how happy they are the kid is finally out of the house, and raise a glass. Not this guy, he went on for ten boring minutes.

Did I mention the bar was closed?

Next up is the Maid of Honor. These toasts are always short.

She got up to speak and they put up a slide of a baby behind her…

“Being her older sister, I remember the day Paula came home from the hospital.”

Wait, what?

Another slide, a slightly older baby…
“At ten months, she took her first steps.”

You would think they could at least put some chips and pretzels on the tables.

It was at age three when the looks of terror appeared on our faces. We realized what we were about to endure. She was going to do the whole life.

Did I mention I hadn’t eaten since the morning?

At the age of eight I pulled out my phone and my wife asked,

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to order a pizza and have it delivered.”

“Put your phone away.”

Why does she have to kill my great ideas? The pizza would have arrived by the time she got to sweet sixteen and maybe it would’ve sent a message to whoever thought this was a great idea to begin with.

Around thirteen, somebody at our table mentioned there was a cash bar in the hotel. All eight of us probably shouldn’t have walked out at once, but we shouldn’t have been subjected to this torture in the first place.

Did I mention the girl giving the speech kept having to pause because she was crying? It only made it better.

She was in the early twenties after we finished our drinks and came back from the bar. I don’t remember how much longer it was before they introduce the best man.

Guys never talk that long. The food should be coming.

They put up a slide of a newborn.

“Hello, Dominoes…”