Thursday, May 26, 2005

The Wedding Nazi

Every wedding seems to have that person who is in charge of it. Whether it's the mother of the bride or the bride herself or someone they have hired to make sure things run smoothly, there is always someone to order the wedding party around. At my cousin's wedding, it was the church coordinator that we fondly referred to as the Wedding Nazi.

First, there are the hand signals. This was HOURS of merriment at her expense, because there were all sorts of hand signals to tell us when to go, when to stop, when to turn, you get the point. Trouble was that in all of the hours of rehearsing, we only briefly ever went over what the hand signals themselves actually meant. The wedding also took place in a freakin' huge church and she stood at the very back, giving us these weird motions that we were supposed to decipher. As Brad, a groomsman, put it: "What? Steal third??"

There was also no fun to be had, at least not if she could help it. Frankly, I think one of the only redeeming things about having to buy a dress (or rent a tux, as the case may be) and stand for hours and run around like a crazy person and all of the other things that come with being in the wedding party is the fact that the other people in the group are your age and are pretty fun. So you can cut up and play around like the goofy folks you are. We were informed that when recessing we ought to acknowledge one another - "Don't just grab his arm and start walking!" - so one of the pairs thought maybe a dip was in order. No such luck...we were informed that this was "reception behavior." In the end they settled for a complicated handshake, and received a pretty dirty look for it as we exited. On more than one occasion, we would all be quieted with "BRIDESMAIDS!" And then we would all snicker like fourth-graders caught whispering in class.

My favorite moment though was when I, with my 59-year-old Uncle Bob, got in trouble for opening the door from where we were waiting to go into the lobby to listen to the trumpet player. She caught our eyes, hers narrowed to show her displeasure, and she gave a dramatic swoop of the hands together to let us know that the door ought to BE CLOSED. We laughed a lot, but quietly so as not to bring down further wrath.

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