Some of us at work have been to a few weddings lately. Some have been wonderful and elegant and lovely, like Brian and Pilar’s. And some have been, well, not.
Like the one in a farm field where the farmer was supposed to close the farm stand down and move the 1972 Winnebago out of the way and clean things up . . . except that he didn’t. So there were people eating lobster while other people were buying pumpkins. And then there was the pile of manure . . .
Or the one where some people at the reception were seated in the dining room and received dinner and others were seated in the “pub” and didn’t get any dinner. As in, nope sorry, you’re in the pub and they aren’t paying to feed you. Yikes.
There was a story about some people being invited to the ceremony and reception and other people being invited only for drinks and dancing. They were all expected to bring gifts, though, to help pay for the entire event. Oh my.
And then there was the one where the father-of-the-bride had a special bottle of Crown Royal that he brought to the after wedding party. He had been saving it for just this occasion . . . and one of the guests stole it.
We’ve all got wedding stories from hell. What’s yours?