worst wedding you've attended

So, what is the worst wedding you’ve ever attended??

Don’t know why this memory suddenly came creeping back to me.

The head secretary at the middle school I used to teach at invited most of the staff to the wedding of her daughter with whom most of us were acquainted.

First off, the wedding ceremony at the church lasted about two hours. Why?? Most of the relatives took the occasion to show off their wholly mediocre singing talents and at every break, another cousin, uncle, or aunt would come down and take the microphone and do some drippy song about the glories of love. That alone should have been the signal to get the hell out of there.

Then we head over to the reception. And where is the reception being held??? At the friggin’ middle school where everyone works!! We head over to the multi-purpose room a.k.a. the school cafeteria which was decorated as well as a school cafeteria can be. The wedding party is up on the stage and the buffet is placed out on actual lunch tables. Then followed another lame-o round of the relatives showing off their third rate singing and then finally it was over.

I had never seen such an obvious attempt to cheap out on a wedding. None of the teachers ever said anything to the secretary but whenever someone brought up the subject, we all gave that look of “Can you BELIEVE they actually did that??”

So, who else out there attended a tacky crap-fest in the form of a wedding ceremony?

My worst wedding only had one dippy love song (sung by the groom, while the bride looked…fidgety?). But the minister gave a long oration directed at the happy couple, where he counseled the bride to, basically, be less of a control freak, and the groom to try to control his impulse to beat up his bride-to-be. Fun time for all.

The reception wasn’t much either.

I’ve got a “tackiest wedding invitation” story to tell, too.

The groom was the son of Mr. Scarface’s employer. The bride was an hour and a half late because of some problem with her dress. The air conditioning in the church wasn’t working. This was in South Florida, in the summer. The bride finally arrived and the festivities. Turns out it was a Penticostal chrurch. The minister decided to keep preaching until someone came down for the alter call. Many of the guests were Hispanic so he then changed his tactic and began railing against Catholics and how they would burn in hell. The bride fainted, which fortunatly brought the whole ceremony to a halt. After she regained conscienciouness he thankfully wound things up. The reception consisted of punch and cake in the church hall where the church people turned it into an impromtue prayer meeting. When the preacher prayed for prosperity for the assembled guests, the Amens were deafining. I kept remembering that Jesus’ first miracle was turning water into wine and I prayed that he would do something about that kool-aide punch, but I don’t think that place was his scene.(see Catholics do know their Bibles.) Anyway, the marriage didn’t last.

Quoting myself from another thread:

Says it all, doesn’t it. Needless to say this former friend is a vague aquaintance now.

My sister’s wedding. It was horrid! Nothing went right. The video tape came out black; you could hear the voices but not see anything, that is, until the wedding was over. The shots of the party came out fine. Creepy!

Also, all the photographs that I took came out very fuzzy and dark and that has never happened to me before.

Anyway, let’s see. The DJ got drunk and played a wedding march that sounded like a funeral dirge and then proceeded to fill the air with country music (my sister loathes country) and then he vomited into the mixer so mercifully, the music died.

The marriage itself was even worse but that’s another story!

My dad’s cousin’s daughter’s wedding.

#1. the grooms side was about 1/4 of the people there.

#2. the groom apparently cut off his long hair for the wedding. Umm, he still looked freaky.

#3. the entire reception was alcohol free. I refuse to the the Hokey Pokey drunk but sober, there is NO WAY IN HELL. Most of my immediate family and I spent most the reception in the lobby, drinking coffee or tea.

Pretty much a boring wedding. If I remember correctly the “champagne” was sparkling cider!

Those of us party animals in the family met that night at a bar near the hotel. We drank buttloads of beer (after being deprived all day) played pool and had a damn good time. The best time we all had all day.

Sheesh, at two of the last weddings I was in, we were drinking champagne before the ceremony while getting ready for our debute as the wedding party. My best friend’s wedding was on top of Keystone Mountain so we had to do what we could to get rid of the hangover from the night before. Nothing like a gondola ride to the top of a mountain when you are buzzed!

I wasn’t invited, but we had to respond to a 911 call at a local Italian restaurant where a wedding reception was being held.

It seems the blushing bride and her new hubby had a bit of a disagreement in front of the wedding cake during the cutting ceremony. Fair damsel decided to settle the issue by grabbing the cake knife and threatening her eternal love with it. She was using the “F” word quite liberally when we entered the hall. Even after a full career in the military, I didn’t know there were more conjugations to the word “fuck” that I still hadn’t heard. :smiley:

Naturally the place pretty much divided up along family lines with a lot of posturing, threatening, and name calling. Sort of looked liked an insane version of West Side Story done in modern Southern Trailer Park Theme.

According to state law, we should’ve taken either bride or groom in for domestic violence, our supervisor just called it a public disturbance, told everyone to tone down the drinking and play nice. After a half hour of remaining on the premises, all parties broke down into a big Bud Light “I Love You Man” group hug around the reconciling and tearful bride and groom. Our supervisor told one unit, thankfully not me, to hang around the area in case Round Two should break out, which would probably happen if they ran out of liquor.

I was never so happy to unass that reception hall, confident that there is some truth to the conventional wisdom about not allowing cousins to marry. I ran back to the car with the theme from the Twilight Zone echoing in my head.

My first marriage…seems like the absent minded Pastor had forgotten he’d scheduled our vows with funeral. Man! Shouldn’t I have taken THAT for a heckuva hint to run as fast as I could???

Oh yes, one wedding stands out in my mind! Nothing was tacky. There were no mishaps. No one got drunk and did something embarrassing.

The problem? There was no joy.

Sorry that I don’t know how to describe it better. All I can say is that the tackiest, most annoying, most inconvenient wedding in the world is made lovely by the joy of a bride and a groom who love each other. The most elegant wedding in the world is made horrible by a bride and groom who don’t.

Green Bean – that was part of the problem at my sister’s wedding. This man did not want to marry her and I don’t think she honestly wanted to marry him. The whole thing was just so horrible that I very quickly got rid of the 200.00 dress (yes! I wore a dress!) That I made myself!

Oh, yeah, and FWIW, they divorced only three months later. It took longer (six months) to get the divorce than the marriage lasted.

I try not to go to weddings if I can help it. I don’t like them. Two of my best friends weddings qualify as the worst just because they were a big mistake, and it seemed obvious at the get-go.

My one friend was so nervous about getting married that the whole time she was getting ready for the wedding, she kept taking shots of strong rum and coke. By the time the ceremony time came around, she was downright drunk and could barely say her part without giggling. The whole wedding was hastily concocted, as her and her boyfriend had split up, then got back together the week before the wedding. As a matter of fact, the news of the wedding was the first I’d heard of them getting back together. They had it in the JP’s living room, and although I wore a dress, the bride wore jeans. That marriage lasted almost 6 months.

My other friend was marrying possibly the biggest jerk I’d ever met, and she was 7 months pregnant. We all knew that the marriage wouldn’t last, it would be miserable, and that she would wind up raising the baby on her own. We were all correct, and the “groom” hasn’t seen his child in years, and doesn’t even pay child support. Surprisingly, they did make it to their first anniversary. The whole wedding consisted of the brides friends hoping that she would back out…

I’ve only been to one wedding, and it sucked for me. You see, I was walking around with one of my brothers, I tripped on a rock or stick, and broke two bones in my ankle. We all knew it was broken from the way it swelled instantly and got these nasty purple and red splotches everywhere, and the way it flopped around (Except my dad…“It’s just a sprain. Don’t be such a baby and quit hopping around. Just walk on it, you’ll be fine.” :rolleyes:).

The reception after that was horrible for me. I got to sit in a chair the whole time. Yay.

Of the dozen or so weddings I have been to in my life, precisely one has actually served champagne. All of the others have used Martinelli’s, the sparkling cider you experienced.

The Llama and I aren’t planning on serving alcohol at our reception; for one thing, the reception will be in the fellowship hall and courtyard of the church we’re being married in, and I don’t think alcohol is permitted. For another, no one on either side of our families is a partier in the imbibing-alcohol sense of the word. We like to be stupid and have fun, mind you, but alcohol–eh. We’ll have a bottle of champagne waiting for us in the limo.

But, I’m sure it will be a great deal of fun. And fortunately, the Hokey Pokey is not an option. :wink:

Another reason we won’t serve alcohol at our reception is because we’ve got plenty of borderline friends who turn into super dumb-ass friends when inebriated. We just don’t need that (well…at least not at the reception…some other time it could be fun).
Also, we don’t need a DJ playing country music and barfing on the mixing board (he’d have to be drunk to do either one).

All I really care about for the reception is that we have some really kick ass cake.

Mmmm…ass cake
er, wait. I mean, Mmmm…kick ass cake

Just don’t announce that to the guests. I’ll never forget the reception where the guests drank non-alcoholic punch, while the wedding party drank Dom Perignon. Budget considerations, they informed us without a blush. And yes, they are now divorced.

Well, there was the one where the ring bearer through up, and the one where a hurricane lamp exploded and showered the bride with broken glass, but upon serious reflection, the worst was my 18-year old nephew marrying his 16 year-old girlfrined (and she wasn’t even pregnant). Everyone in the church knew it was a case of two children playing grownups (Mrs. kunilou refered to it as “Barbie’s dream wedding”) and that it was only a matter of time before the entire marriage would go down in flames.

Don’t ever get me started…

It was one of my aunts. First off, we all had to go to the reception room while everyone got things ready behind closed doors. Apparently they just got the place last night, because it took about three hours. I didn’t have a book or anything with me (on account of no one telling me it was going to take three freaking hours), so all I could do was sit at a nearby table and do…nothing.

Then, sometime before or after lunch…I don’t remember, I was catatonic for most of the morning…they finally had the wedding. In a church. A full-bore, orthodox house of worship. This despite the fact that the newlyweds were about as pious as the National Hockey League. And I had to suffer through the prayers and sappy vows and everything despite having been completely betrayed by my faith in high school (for which I still feel incredibly resentful…Hell is too good for some of those wastes of flesh, I tell you), and of course I couldn’t just wait outside because I was invited and this was important to them and blah blah blah blah.

Then we had the actual wedding party (of COURSE you need to throw a massive frikkin party after the half-hour wedding!), which may have been fun for some of the guests, and I certainly hope it was good for them, because I was bored out of my goddam mind. Song after dance after speech after song after another song…geez, they must have played the Sappy Wedding Top 100. And it went on hour after hour after goddam mind-numbing hour. I asked at least three times when the spectacle was going to end. I don’t remember what the answer was, but I’m inclined to think it was along the lines of “whenever”.

We finally started on the way home at around 1:00 AM. By which I was totally exhausted and thoroughly miserable (did I mention that I was practically begging to be excused near the end?). And did not receive one tiny shred of sympathy from what I’m seriously beginning to doubt is my real family.

Looking back on it, it’s a wonder I didn’t strangle someone that horrible day.

One of my brother’s wedding was the worst.

The couple was expecting and the priest insisted on only immediate family, not even grandparents.

I was unaware, being a teenager they didn’t confide in, and could not figure out why there were all the references to “holding the family together in these troubled times”

When I asked why there wan’t a reception, they came out with it, and I was stunned and went home crying.

Mine. The tawdry truth can now be told. (I’m divorced, hurrah!)

I really just wanted a quiet marriage at the courthouse. No go; my mom had a fit. So we arranged for a judge and a small ceremony in a local park pavillion.

My mom and sister arrive. Mom picks a huge fight w/ sis; they’re both in tears. I call judge’s office to confirm; the nice secretary says, “Oh, he can’t make it; he has a trial in Dismal Seepage. Didn’t he tell you?”

Mother has hysterics. I grimly look up the Judge’s home number and call. Very hostile woman answers, but she thaws when she hears my predicament. (Mother’s wailing in the background actually helped.) Seems she’s Mrs. Judge, but Mr. Judge is currently residing w/ his preganant girlfriend. I gush apologies, shove an aspirin down Mom (“no, it’s not hard drugs”)and put her down for a nap then call The Girlfriend.

Who has the intellectual grasp of aquarium gravel. After much frustrating cross-talk I inform her that Mr. Judge will either show as promised, provide a replacement or I will render him a eunnech. Yes, it was threat against a judge, but I could have sicced my mom on him.

The day dawns. I want to be anyone else and anywhere else. We gather in the park. No judge. Stomach roils, mom looks embalmed, friends are concerned and commiserating–then finally Da Judge rolls up in his land yacht.

We all gather–and he proceeds with the most flowery, unctuous tripe this side of Hallmark cards; about love being eternal, love being faithful, etc. The assembled guests, who are all privy to his situation, frankly gawk in disbelief.

I’m seized with lunatic laughter. Maybe it’s stress, lack of sleep, whatever; killing, snuffling, eye-watering pure amusement that strains to let loose in braying, rib-clutching, yowling laughter. I didn’t hear a damned word after the first 2 minutes.

We shove Da Judge back in his land yacht, the Assembled Guests figure out my tears are repressed hysteria and we all have a riotous re-hash of the fiasco.

My mother still looked embalmed.

Somehow it was all A Sign.


An old friend of mine got married, and her father and mother were separated, but not divorced. The father brought a date, his very young girlfriend (she was younger than the bride). The mother spent the entire ceremony sobbing, not the sort of touching “oh my baby is getting married” crying, but the creepy “how dare you flaunt that wanton floozy in front of me” kind of hysterics. The father looked smug and the girlfriend snapped her gum loudly throughout. It was the kind of situation that made you wish a hole would open up in the earth and swallow you, or, in a perfect world, swallow the mother, father, and girlfriend.

Then, the best man (the groom’s brother) made his toast. It went along the lines of “well, of all the women my brother has woken up next to over the years, some were leggy, stacked and hot to trot! (here he punctuated this by screeching “Yeeeeeowww!” and pumping his fist in the air)Some were the kind that would make a guy want to chew his arm off once he was sober. (this image was enforced by him shouting “woof! woof! woof!”) There was one chick we all thought was a man! And one who stole our mom’s silver! So, I would like to say that we are all grateful to be welcoming Stacy (the bride) to the family.” Eek!

The bride and groom are still happily married, I think they have since divorced their families, however.