Crotch-rot wedding

So I had a taste of what it's like to direct a wedding this weekend. Friends of ours were getting hitched this past Saturday and we volunteered to coordinate things. Oy, what a sweaty ordeal.

The rehearsal began at 4:30 Friday, which took 3 run-throughs. My duties began at 2:30 Saturday, consisting mostly of hauling my sweaty ass back & forth between the chapel and the reception hall on a muggy May afternoon in dungarees and a thick cotton twill shirt. At one point I had to drive to a pharmacy to get a can of hairspray for the bride. I changed into my year-round, all-purpose gray suit around 4:00, but continued to run around doing this and that, like getting the band members set up and helping the florists, who were 30 minutes behind schedule and brought half-wilted flowers, all while wearing a 12-year-old pair of wingtips that were not designed for extensive footwork. Thank god I brought along a pair of walkie-talkie radios so that my wife and I could communicate. By the time the ceremony began, my shirt was soaked, my crotch was all sweaty in those damned wool & polyester pants, my collar was two-toned, and my coat pockets were bulging uncomfortably with radio, cell phone, sunglasses, camera, and keys. We wound up fucking up the order in which the wedding party entered the chapel, but I think the minister and the music guy managed to cover it up. The awkward moment came after the minister introduced the new couple. The music guy was supposed to play a song right at that moment, but fumbled with the controls and left the couple standing around for about 30 seconds, staring at pews full of people who had finished their applause and were wondering why the hell they were just standing there.

Our duties weren't over yet, as we had to coordinate getting the wedding party properly introduced at the reception, so I had to run back & forth between the photo shoot and the reception hall to update the band as to when they were coming in, while my wife had to track down the security guard to lock up the room where the bride's stuff was being stored. We also had to go fetch the flowers that the bumbling florists had left in the chapel and put them on the tables. At least we managed to chomp down some of the yummy wedding food, like ham biscuits, veggies & dip, crab dip, cheese platter, and these awesome roast beef & cream cheese pinwheels. By the time the whole thing was over, my feet were killing me, my wife's feet had their own share of blisters, and my crotch was raw from my sweaty, blubbery thighs slapping together all damn day. We slept until about 11:30 the next day. Thank god we had Memorial Day off, to make up for the lost Saturday.

I am excited about this coming weekend, as we have been invited to go to my father-in-law's rental house on the coast. As many of my readers are aware, coastal towns in North Carolina have a style all of their own, with simple houses built for ocean breezes and friendly streets that invite a gentle-man to don his straw hat and go for a leisurely stroll, rather than cram into an automobile and zoom through a suburban wasteland, to restaurants offering all manner of fresh seafood. We'll also have access to a local country club, where we can indulge for a weekend in the lifestyle of the "other half." We also plan on making more frequent trips to Wrightsville this year, in an effort to squeeze more enjoyment out of our family's condo, which they are threatening to sell. We hope that our increased usage of the place will convince them that the condo is still an appreciated asset and not a dead weight to be cut loose.

I kind of wish the place we're going had a place for horseback riding. I'm anxious to try out Mr. Shitesworth's 1930s cavalry officer's uniform for its intended purpose.