Some buddies and I were hanging out this weekend and the topic of weddings came up.
Specifically, we were trading stories of the “weirdest” weddings we ever went to.
I don’t want to brag, but I think I won.
In the Summer of 92, I was dating a wonderful young lass named Maria. Maria was cute, nice, and quite hot. She was also as dumb as a box of rocks, but hey, I never discriminated against the mentally impaired. Plus, did I mention she was hot?
Anyway, Maria had one more thing stacked against her….. she came from the TRASHIEST of white trash families. Seriously. She made Honey Boo Boo look like a fucking debutante.
Anyway, I had only been dating her for a few weeks, and I had never met any members of her family yet, when she asked me to go with her to her sister’s wedding. Being the perfect boyfriend, I of course said “Sure!”, never realizing just how badly I was going to regret my decision.
The fun started when I picked Maria up, and noticed that she had a nasty scratch on her face and a bruise on her shoulder. Rocketing into protective ‘boyfriend’ mode, I asked her who’s ass I needed to kick to right this grievous wrong.
She didn’t answer me, but after some more prodding while we drove to the wedding, she finally admitted to me that the person who banged her up was her sister. Not the sister getting married, but sister #3.
The story she then told me went like this: The bride to be was marrying a black man, and certain members of her family really wanted to keep the “White” in “White Trash” and were forbidding her from going through with the wedding. The most vocal of them was sister #3 who, on the morning of the wedding, had some words with the bride that quickly escalated into a knock down brawl. Maria jumped in to try to stop it, but before long all three of them were beating on each other.
Now, if they were all in sexy underwear and started to make out with each other in the middle of it, it would have naturally have been a huge turn on, but since none of that actually happened, the whole mess seemed quite sad.
Anyway, we arrived at the wedding, which I learned was being held in the backyard of the groom’s family’s house. We were joined about 30 minutes later by the mother of the bride, Maria’s mom. She sure seemed like a nice lady, but I have to question a woman who comes to her oldest daughter’s wedding holding a pack of Camel’s and wearing a housedress. I heard her say some wonderfully racist things that made me squirm before she sat her ass down and waited for the wedding to begin.
We quickly sat down on some folding chairs and the wedding procession began. As the bride walked down the aisle, I couldn’t help but noticed that she had a HUGE black eye and scratches down her arm. My coy date leaned over to me to let me know, “That wasn’t from me.. that was my sister’s work!”
Anyway, it was a beautiful scene. The bride, bruised and bloodied, walked slowly down the aisle, the groom stood eloquently in his white tuxedo, when suddenly, from inside the house, the wedding march song suddenly got cut off, instantly replaced by a wonderful ditty by the group N.W.A.
I shit you not.
Not being a connoisseur of their fine work, I can’t tell you the exact name of the ballad that blasted the wedding reception from one of the bedroom windows, but I can tell you that there were 4-letter words in abundance, and I specifically recalled the lyrics “Go fuck Whitey”. Ah, the memories.
Apparently, the groom’s little brother was as happy about this lovely union as the bride’s sister was, so he decided to change up the play list to show his displeasure.
The rest happened very fast.
I heard the groom’s father yell “Son of Bitch! That little bastard!”, and race off into the house.
Then I heard the sound of a scuffle from within the house, followed by the sudden scratch of a CD being yanked from its player.
That was followed by the groom’s brother running from the house, dressed in shorts and a wife-beater, being chased by his dad, wielding a baseball bat.
THAT scene caused the rest of the families, just like the Hatfields and McCoys, to quickly take sides and join in the fray.
What happened next cannot honestly be explained, at least not by me.
In short, a fight broke out of EPIC proportions. Punches were thrown. Chairs were launched. Food was massacred. At one point I was hiding behind a shrub with the priest.
If you put the scene into fast motion it would have looked like one of those old black and white movies where everyone gets into a big pie fight. Except, instead of pies, people were throwing Spare Ribs and Chicken wings.
Anyway, in the end, cooler heads prevailed (or maybe there was just no more food to throw), but the happy bride and groom got married after all, and I went home vowing to NEVER GO OUT WITH THIS BITCH AND HER CRAZY FAMILY AGAIN!
Of course, as I mentioned at the beginning, she was hot, so I broke half of that promise before too long, but that, my friends, is a blog tale for another day…..