Two idiots at a wedding.
“Are you sure we are invited to this thing?” I asked Poptart before I even started getting ready. T-Minus 1 ½ hours.
“Then where’s the invitation?”
“It’s probably in the mail. It just hasn’t been forwarded to the new address yet.”
Trusting my sweet ADD husband I got ready, even though I still had my doubts.
I put on my new mini from Target and my black tights to make sure all my fat parts were covered and ran around the house trying to find the PERFECT pair of shoes.
“We are running late.” He said with his most patient sweet voice. “The sitter is here, we seriously have to go.” T-Minus 20 minutes.
So after having to break out back up pair of tights number two, because I had already put a giant run in pair of tights number one, and finding the PERFECT shoes and purse I’m finally ready to go to this wedding that I’m positive we are NOT invited to. T-Minus 10 minutes.
We get on the freeway and Poptart does his best impersonation of a high speed car chase, even though the po po is no where to be seen and we actually make it to the other side of town just in time for the ceremony.
“Damn it!” Poptart says, totally deflated.
“We are totally out of gas.”
“Can we make it to the church?”
“Maybe, but what if we can’t make it back to the gas station after the wedding? Stace, we have to stop.” T-Minus 0 minutes.
Fully fueled, and officially running late, we finally make it to the church. T-Minus…oh shit.
Now, I’m not really a church person. Having made a deal with God that I will do my very best not to cuss out loud in his place of worship if he promises not to strike me down upon entry, we enter the church just in time for me to utter, “SHIT! We didn’t bring a gift.”
As we walk in, we run into an usher telling us we are late (thanks for the news flash, Captain Obvious) and that we should enter through the side door. On our way around the side, who do we run into? The bride. We both greet her with huge smiles, as if to say, “Great to see you!” She looks at us as if to say, “Are you f*^king serious?”
Into the church we go. As we are waiting for the ceremony to start, the hubby and I are doing our best to act like upstanding citizens who took their “normal pills” that morning. I look around and notice that no one else from Poptart’s department of work is there. Just the office staff. I point this out to him and then we both realize that we were not in fact invited to this wedding, which would explain a lot about the look on the bride’s face.
The ceremony starts and now there is no escape. We are in it for the long haul. The bride is beautiful, the groom is handsome, and the minister is a pervert. The man who was marrying them was talking about Adam’s “bone” and how the groom couldn’t wait to tap that ass. Maybe not in those words EXACTLY but it was pretty damn close.
As the ceremony is coming to a close, Poptart and I are doing our best impression of Steve McQueen in The Great Escape. We can’t go out the front because the rest of the office staff are there and will see him, know he’s not invited, and make fun of him at work behind his back. Our best chance is the side door. Before the pervert minister can finish the sentence “I present to you Mr. and Mrs…” we’re on the move. We make a beeline straight for the side door. I have the door opened a quarter of an inch and what do I see? The entire wedding party. “ABORT, ABORT!!!” I yell to Poptart. “We have to go the other way.” We panic. There’s only one exit. The front doors. And the office staff.
Knowing we’re screwed, we go out the front to face the firing squad. And every other wedding guest. Our escape route took us directly through the freaking reception. Oh joy. **Sigh** At least if it was somewhere else we could have snuck away in our car, but now we have to gracefully exit the reception without further drawing attention to ourselves. We make a beeline for the front door, while casually pretending that we left the gift in our car. Smooth. Smooth like sandpaper. By the time we get to the car we’re pretty much pissing ourselves laughing.
I called my dad on the way to the nearest bar to tell him what we had done, and I loved his response. “Hell, you went that far, you might as well have stayed for the food.”
Come to find out later the hubby was right; we were invited to the wedding.
So let’s recap: We were late to crash a wedding to which we were actually invited. We didn’t bring a gift. We nearly ended up in the wedding party’s photos while trying to sneak out the side door. And then we ran like a couple of idiots from the reception without congratulating the bride and groom. Needless to say, we have not been invited to any more weddings.