Party at the Moontower…Part 3: The Ceremony

At about an hour before sunset, the ceremony began. The grooms were waiting on the front porch of the bait shop with the preacher. There was a wrought iron arch adorned with tiny flowers in the middle and the all three were waiting patiently for the brides to come down. All of those in attendance had pulled their lawn chairs over to the front yard of the bait shop. Everyone sat gawking at the grooms, which was making them visibly nervous. They were also shouting words of encouragement like “Take your hats off!” and “don’t run!” The general mood was light and relaxed and the sky had even grown lighter as the storm clouds were clearing the area.

The moment finally arrived and the bridal party emerged from the upstairs of the bait shop and began to descend the steps. At the bottom, the brides’ father took one arm in each of his and they walked up to the make-shift alter on the front porch. They all took their places on either side of the grooms and preacher. It was quite a large group of ladies with, curiously, no men. On the brides’ side, there was my wife and Chrishell as well as a few other family friends. I noticed that my daughter Savannah was acting as the ring bearer. I privately mused if she was asked to do this task or went out of her way to offer her services.

On the grooms’ side (again, the only men were the grooms and the preacher) there were a few people I’d never seen before in my life. But one lady really caught my attention. I’m not trying to be mean, but she was very heavy and was wearing a strapless purple dress. I had flashes of a popular children’s show about an imaginary purple dinosaur whose name starts with a “B”. Oddly enough, another guest made the comment that he could not get “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” out of his head and found himself humming the tune all evening. Apparently he had images of the California Raisins.

All in all, the wedding party looked great and the ceremony was lovely, however short and sweet. I was asked by Shonda to take pictures of the event and I had a blast doing so. However, I quickly learned that it’s difficult to take good pictures with one hand while the other holds a bottle, so I stuck my appetizer in my back pocket. Again, I was oblivious to the fact that I was at a small town, Southern Baptist wedding and therefore did not notice the whispers going on behind my back. I also did not realize that I was greatly offending many of the older folks, including the preacher, by drinking a beer. I’ve been to dozens of Catholic weddings and the minute the reception begins, the drinks get poured. Hell, I’ve even seen a priest or two have a cocktail during my lifetime.

When I finally realized what was going on, I found that I wasn’t the only one who was the source of tension. Graham, too, was drinking a beer and even Tabatha had popped a top when the ceremony was over. Ranae, the girls' mother, was apparently in the middle of a heated argument with RJ (one of her newest sons-in-law, mind you) about how the keg of beer she had purchased was for the reception and not for Tabatha and RJ’s trailer afterwards. This little tiff had set off a chain of events and the name calling started shortly after that. In the span of about an hour, we had two groups of people: those who wanted to start the party and those who did not drink at all or who wanted to wait for the preacher to leave. Or to further explain: our side of the family verses RJ’s side of the family.

“Trash” was a word that was thrown around by both sides. The large purple woman was by far the biggest antagonist of the whole group and even recruited a plump old man in her catcalls and insults of various women in our group. At one point, someone said something regarding Chrishell that was not nice at all. I’m going to chalk it up to complete jealousy and rudeness, and that’s putting it mildly. Chrishell endured it all though, and never lost her cool one time. Graham, however, being the southern gentleman that he is, did confront the old man who had joined in the name calling with the big purple woman. Ironically, things calmed down directly after that and everyone eventually started to have a good time. The keg was tapped and the girls were enjoying their favorite drink: a new sensation called a “Fuzetini” made from the fitness drink Fuze and Vodka. It’s all the rage in the New York clubs. I was acting as bartender and making them very well. I even got the girls’ grandmother to try one, which she thoroughly enjoyed.

Eventually the sun went down and the DJ began playing his mix. Unfortunately for him, the only logical place for him to set up all of his equipment was directly next to the portable toilet. He had to endure that scent all night on top of all the other aromas. The poor bastard.

So there you have it. We drank. We ate. We endured the stench of rotten shrimp bits and cow patties. We danced. We played. And all in all, the evening turned out just fine.