As the title indicates, tonight you are getting a lovely matched set of bridesmaid calamities - not one, but TWO situations of comic proportions that arose during my very own wedding day. Ready for round one? Okay, here we go:
The wedding day was really picking up speed. Our hairdos were sprayed in place, our turbo-bras were fastened, and our photographer had arrived. After the aforementioned creeptasticity of the photog unleashing his papparazzo skills BEFORE all of us had gotten our tops on, we scurried outside for a few quick shots in the beautiful August afternoon, like this one:
(For the less matrimonially experienced among you who might be wondering: no, I did not have my bridesmaids wear blue jeans for the wedding. We waited until we got to the church to finish changing, to avoid awkward butt-wrinkles in the satin skirts.)
It really was a gorgeous day, and we realized after our mini photo shoot that we had a severely diminished amount of time to pack up and get to the church. So we scrambled. We bustled through my house, stuffing cans of hairspray, panty hose, and cameras into bags at frantic, breakneck speeds. Finally, we carefully maneuvered The Dress into my mom's van for safe transport to the church.
(I'm the one in the tiara. Just FYI. Totes not a big deal or anything.)
All the bridesmaids sprang into vehicles, followed by the creepy photographer, and peeled out of the driveway in an orderly fashion. I hopped into the passenger seat of the van, and my mom started the engine. We each took a deep breath, ready for the emotionally significant mother-daughter moment that was the four-minute drive to our family church.
As we were backing up, however, we realized a single fatal flaw in our plan. The Ford Windstar, being a mini-van, has more blind spots than your average car. Also, a ginormous ivory dress was obscuring the rest of the rear view. Mom might as well have smeared marshmallow fluff on the mirrors.
Me: Should I move it? (tries in an uncoordinated fashion to turn around in seat and adjust the dress)
Mom: YOUR HAIR!!! (saves tiara from being crushed against the van ceiling) Just leave it. We just have to get out of the driveway, and then we'll be just -
My mother and I looked at each other, speechless for a moment in our shock.
Me: Did you hit the photographer?! (envisions headline: "Photog Run Down in Blind Side Bridal Ride")
Mom: No... (cranes head to look) Oh, no! I hit Alexis!
Me: YOU HIT HER?
Mom: No, no! I hit her car... I hit her CAR!
To my knowledge, my mother has never hit another moving vehicle, so this was kind of one of those moments when your brain starts going really, really fast as you try to evaluate whether any of this is actually happening and what you should do next.
Mom: Is she okay? Are you okay?
Me: Well, she's pulling out... her bumper is still on...
Mom: Should we go?! Can I pull out yet?!
Me: Yes... NO! I mean, yes. Yes.
Alexis waited for us to pull out of the driveway and followed us to the church. Our emotionally significant mother-daughter bonding consisted of repeating the following interchange about five or six times:
Mom: Try and look. Is her car all right?
Me: I don't know... I think so. Should we stop?
Mom: No, no time! It will look the same when we get there, anyway.
Me: Did that really just happen?
Mom: I don't know.
When we arrived at the church, we assessed the vehicles. Miraculously, neither car had sustained visible damage other than a couple of scratches. Alexis was very gracious about the whole thing, though I couldn't speak for her Pontiac, which may have been quite flustered. In any case, no one was injured, the wedding preparations proceeded as planned... and my perfect run-down-photographer headline went to waste.
COMING SOON (meaning as soon as I have time to type it)... the second bridesmaid mishap of my wedding day! Here's the teaser headline:
Staid 'Maid Fades - Nerves Frayed