Here is the story.
It took an hour to get to the farm. We went through several small towns which I generously offered to buy lunch at the cafe of their choosing. I even offered to spend the afternoon at a Lavender Festival, whatever in the hell that is. No deal.
We arrived at 12:00, and the ceremony was to begin at 12:30. I was then told at 12:25 that 12:30 was a ruse to assure the brides family would be on time and that the actual ceremony was set to 1:00. It's 85 in the shade with 80% humidity.
The barn is actually pretty decent. It was power washed and they had fans blowing across tubs of ice. Unfortunately, about 150 guests have jammed themselves inside to avoid the sun.
Ceremony began on time, and was thankfully short. People are milling about outside the barn, where it is now 90. The BBQ crew is serving whoredurves (sic on purpose) of chargrilled chicken wings and spicy shrimp. There is lemonade, iced tea, and water to drink. I'm trying to remember the last store we passed on the way in, and the chances of me slipping away. I soon realize that I can't slip away due to the rednecks in attendance surrounding my car as if it's an alien spaceship. It becomes clear that most of them have only seen a Mercedes on TV.
I saw the drummer I played with for a short time over 25 years ago, He was one of those life of the party guys and I had hoped I could spend the afternoon chatting about old times. After a quick greeting I ask him what he's been doing all these years. His response was "I quit music shortly after you moved to New York and got saved by Jesus Christ. I thought he was messing with me, but in an instant I realized he was serious. Very serious. He asked if I had accepted the Lord as my......at this point my wife realized what was about to happen and grabbed me by the arm and said "excuse us but my grandmother needs help getting in the barn". (words I've never heard and likely won't again)
Two hours later, at approximately 3:00, the DJ that's been hired for the festivities starts playing music in the barn. The DJ is a young man of roughly 27 years old, and has obviously spent most of those years eating macaroni and cheese in vast quantities. He's got to weigh at least 325 pounds and is dressed in black from his considerable neck to toes and is wearing a tie. The sun is shining through a window directly on his back and he is sweating as if in front of a firing squad. He begins with great energy, but soon loses his stamina and is quickly reduced to laying back in his chair and mumbling between every other song or so. I'm convinced he's going to die.....soon.
I found a small table next to the barn, which I commandeered to a shady spot near a treeline and set up camp. I was able to keep one eye on my car, and the other on the DJ, who I really can't see anything more of other than his cankles. My plan at this point is when he inevitably goes down, the ensuing mayhem will allow an escape. I'm somewhat hopeful I'll be able to grab my wife on the way out, but at this point I'm in a "everyman for himself" kinda mood.
At roughly 4:00 the meal was served. We lined up like cattle for BBQ chicken, severely overcooked Salmon, cornbread and salad. It's 97 degrees and so humid it's like a sauna in hell. I've lost my appetite.
After dinner, the festivities begin with the first dance of the bride and groom. Then the father of the bride with the bride. The DJ now has his tie off, his shirt open to the waist and is standing and swaying to the music with his glistening moobs swinging back and forth, and is obviously drunk. Several female guests have noticed this and seem to think everyone who hasn't noticed should be notified. This led to blantant pointing, screaming, laughter and mass nausea. I'm looking upward to the rafters of the barn and glancing about for rope to hang myself.
At this point, I caught my wife's attention and gave her the "tapping of my wrist and nod for the door" sign. She gratefully nodded yes, and I held up my keys and showed them to her and headed for my car. As I approached my car I saw it was still being checked out by a few guys who were standing back towards the rear of the car looking to see if it had a trailer hitch or something. One of them says "what kinda mileage ya git with dis"? Without looking at him I said I have no idea and got inside and cranked the AC to the freeze setting.
Five minutes later, my wife arrived and we left. We drove in silence for about 10 minutes, and then she thanked me for coming and apologized for me not having a good time. I told her she owed me something to be negotiated later. She smiled that smile and asked me for one more favor. Warily I asked what that might be. She said we might need to go back to the farm. I was incredulous and asked her what the hell for? Did she forget her purse? She said "no, but my grandmother is going to need help getting out of the barn".
We pretty much laughed the rest of the way home.
Randy