What was your actual wedding like?

LorelieBrown

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'Cause Greenify asked, and 'cause I have a decent story, I figured I'd be the one to start the thread:

We got married in Seoul, South Korea (both US soldiers, stationed there). Him in jeans & t-shirt, me in elastic band shorts because our son was already making his appearance known.

For US soldiers marrying in Korea, there's three stops - JAG, the Mayor of Seoul's office, and the Embassy. As we walked up to the little glass window at the Embassy, we joked it wasn't too late to back out. The man behind the glass said, "Nope, you're already married." Apparently that was the stop at the Mayor's office, where we paid 10,000 won ($10), signed our names and got a stamp. We'd been married a half hour and hadn't known it.
 

DeleyanLee

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We went down from Detroit to Toledo to get married. Parked a few blocks from the Lucas County Courthouse (which tickled the ex, he's a big SW fan) and stood in line with our witnesses and all the other people applying for licenses.

While in line, there were four reverends chatting up the couples to see if anyone wanted immediate service. We did. The best man was something of a comedian, so my ex and I engaged the services of the one who got most of the jokes since we knew they'd continue through the ceremony.

Though it was October, it was still warm outside. After we got the license, we headed out and got married beneath a tree that still had autumn leaves on it. Signed the form. The reverend took care of registering it for us.

Quick, simple, easy. Blew a tire on the way home (so much for the dress I'd borrowed from my sister--I was the only one who knew how to change the tire), stopped for ice cream and then I went to bed 'cause I had to work the midnight shift that night.
 

Perks

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That's a good one. - ha!

We got married in a replica of Windsor Castle in Maryland. (In fact, it's the house that Clint Eastwood robs in 'Absolute Power'.)

Our priest was about 400 years old and after the vows he said, "Well, you're married", told Art to give me a kiss, and then busied himself in his book. We all waited and waited. I looked at the pianist who gave me the questioning eyebrows. I shrugged. So he started playing and we left.

Well out into the great room, we heard a roar of laughter from the chapel. Apparently, Father Dunahoe had just soundly lost his place and was quite surprised to look up and find us gone. We dropped a reading and the benediction, but as far as I know, I'm still legally married.

Wedding.jpg
 

kayleamay

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Which time?

:roll:

I'm with auntybug. .

Went to a park in downtown. All of the pretty spots were already taken by napping homeless guys so we ended up on the corner next to the street. (We were both wearing jeans and t-shirts). My husband's cousin performed the ceremony because he had minister credentials from some internet church. He laughed and said, "You're both really f*%#ed up but you seem to like each other. Wanna be married?". We both said something like, "unkay" then he said something like, "alrighty then." My brother and his date were supposed to be our witnesses, but my brother got stood up so the barista from the Starbucks across the street stood in.

Then we all went to Starbucks for a cup of coffee, which was, of course, on the house because the barista was so honored that we asked her to be a part of our wedding.

Oh, the memories.
 

DeleyanLee

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Hmmm. Is it fair to tell what happened at another wedding? My parents have a wedding tale that defies fiction.
 

LorelieBrown

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Well the point's a laugh, so why not?
 

Sophia

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My parents' wedding was weird, too. Dad was in England and Mum was, I think, in Pakistan. Dad paid for Mum's mother and a couple of other relatives to fly over from India for it, and didn't have enough to pay for a ticket for himself to get over there. As he hated weddings, he was very pleased with himself for getting out of it! This was in 1970. It was done over the phone, and I guess the documents that needed signing were posted. The pattern continued for the first few years of their marriage; a few months together and then several months apart. Dad didn't even meet me until I was nearly nine months old. It was all rather bizarre!
 

DeleyanLee

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The year is 1959, so keep that in mind.

My mother lived in a little town up by Traverse City, MI (the pinkie area). My dad was in the Navy and stationed at Grosse Point (down by Detroit). He's native to Detroit, so it wasn't that bad in that regard.

Dad's base gets a new commander two weeks before the wedding. One of his first acts is to cancel ALL leaves for the next month. Dad's CO goes to bat for him and, the Monday before the Saturday wedding, gets the agreement that Dad has exactly 24 hours of leave to get married. So Dad has to start driving at midnight for the 5 hour one-way trip up, get married, drive back before 0000 hours Sunday.

But wait, there's more:

It's the night before the wedding and there's this terrible thunderstorm. My mom loves thunderstorms, so she's on the porch watching it with a couple of her bridesmaids. The church she's getting married in tomorrow is across the street and up a small hill. They watch as the church is struck by lightning and starts to blaze.

The small town has a volunteer fire department, so it's nearly 40 minutes before the team arrives. Too late. The church burns to the ground.

The reverend is on hand by this time, calls his reverend buddy in the next town (on the other side of the bay) to see if there's room for this wedding. They can be squeezed in at almost the same time--but they've got a 1/2 hour between other weddings.

But wait, there's more:

My uncle (Dad's best man) and his wife are driving up the night before from Detroit. Auntie is pregnant with their first child and starts to have labor pains. They have to stop in Lansing (less than half the trip) since this was the age of women getting knocked out to give birth. Uncle calls Mom (no cell phones remember) since Dad is unreachable on-base.

Dad arrives at 4:30 in the morning and crashes on my great-uncle's couch for a few hours. Turns out Auntie had a false alarm, so they load back into the car and finish the drive to arrive at 7:00 and crash at a different relative's house.

Because it's a small town, the news that there's been a change of venues travels quickly. So far, so good.

But wait, there's more:

The bridal party gets ready and Gramma loads them into the station wagon and they head off around the bay to the church with the few decorations that didn't get torched with the church.

Mom and Grandpa come out and discover that everyone who has a car has left. The only thing left to take her to the church is Grandpa's plumping truck.

Grandpa rushes into the house, opens the linen closet and grabs a bunch of sheets to spread over his greasy stuff so Mom doesn't get her dress dirty. He fails to notice that many of these things are part of the fine Irish linen set Gramma had gotten for her own wedding. They pile Mom into the truck and head off.

There's a train passing between the towns. Grandpa is at the head of the line. It's the end of August and it's already getting hot (1959--no A/C). The train passes. Mom managed to hold onto her veil. At the front of the line coming back to town is Gramma. They'd forgotten the flowers in the fridge.

But wait, there's still more:

Standing at the altar in her white dress, Mom feels the first gush of her menstrual cycle. Other than that, the wedding goes off without a hitch.

But wait, there's still more:

At the time of her marriage, Mom was the teacher at two one-room schools (one in the morning, one in the afternoon--I did say it was 1959 small town, remember?). In her happiness, she invited all her students and their families to come to her reception.

They all showed up.

Suddenly there's not enough food to be had at the reception. They have three times the amount of people expected.

The grocer down the street takes pity on the situation (he's a guest) and takes Gramma down and runs her a tab to feed the extra guests.

But wait, there yet one more thing:

Dad still has to be back on base by midnight, so they have to cut the party short and start driving. Dad falls asleep at the wheel and they drive off into a ditch.

No cell phones in 1959. No way to call for help.

It takes about an hour before someone drives by and notices them. Because it's a rural area, they happen to have a tow chain and pull my folks out of the ditch.

Dad gets back to the base with, literally, 3 minutes to spare.

And, in case you're curious, my folks celebrate their 50th anniversary next week. They are NOT renewing their vows.
 

Leukman

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I prefer not to discuss this, or read your experiences, for fear that I may get very worked up, go off the deep end, seek out my X and her family members, and shove something entirely too large into one (or more) of her (or her family's) orifices. The only thing stopping me from doing this now is a fear that I'd forever be turned off to the idea of enjoying a popsicle again.
 

LorelieBrown

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And, in case you're curious, my folks celebrate their 50th anniversary next week. They are NOT renewing their vows.

Hee hee hee! Maybe they got all their bad luck out of the way on the day?
 

MaryMumsy

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Mine isn't as dramatic/traumatic as some of the others.

Starts the night before, with the rehearsal. We are in the vestibule of the church, chatting with one of the Franciscan brothers. Our priest wanders in. "Hey, brother Barry, what do you have going tonight?". Me: "he doesn't have anything, YOU have a wedding rehearsal."

Day of wedding: Mom and I and maid of honor arrive at church about two hours ahead of time. There is literally NO ONE around. The church is unlocked, but the only room inside which is unlocked is the mimeograph room. Remember mimeo machines? With that horrible purple ink? So we are carefully getting changed into our ceremony duds, avoiding purple disaster. A woman who works for the church shows up, is aghast we are in the mimeo room, and unlocks the brides' changing room. We are in there, finishing up, Mom glances out the window overlooking the parking lot. There is Father somebodyorother, ambling across the lot in civvies (Aloha shirt). He is supposed to be in the church, playing music to soothe the savage beasts. (He was there temporarily due to a drinking problem). Mom hotfoots out, snags him, and gets him into the church.

From there things progressed smoothly. Although I found out when we got our photos back that my MIL, in her zeal to make sure we had photos of every single one of their relatives and neighbors, had distracted the photographer enough that I have no pictures of either of my grandparents or any of my other relatives who were there. I do have pics of Mom, Dad, and my brother. (Can you tell I'm still bitter, after 37 years?).

MM
 

DeleyanLee

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When my nephew got married, I had balls enough to take several of my own snapshots during the course of the ceremony--the only other person who had--and at the photo shoot afterward. My sister chewed me a new one at the reception.

Turns out, the photographer forgot to take the lenscap off his camera during the entire ceremony, so the ONLY photos in existence were mine.

My sister couldn't tell me this. She told my daughter to tell me this in hopes that I'd just send them to her.

I sent them to my nephew and his new bride once they returned from the honeymoon.
 

aadams73

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Deja vu!

I eloped. He and I both wore jeans and t-shirts even though I'd bought a dress for the occasion. Spur of the moment ended up being even more spur of the moment than planned.
 

Mr Flibble

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I had a trike. And a Bugatti. I got married in the same building they tried teh Acid Bath Murderer. We went to the pub after.

My cousin ( who'd sworn off getting married cos all the celebrations were so pompous) got married two months later, she thought it was so much fun. And when we went to hubby's uncle's wedding a fortnight after ours ( a big posh do), every single one of his family sidled up and said 'I preferred yours, it was so relaxed and fun'

Trike:

1.jpg


I would just like to point out neither of these gentlemen is my hubby. The one on the trike is Ghengis.
 

Greenify13

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Awesome! Another thread. I started one, yesterday? Don't remember when, honestly. However I figure I could share it so you can read more Marriage Day stories.

aadams73! I so wish I was wearing jeans. :D

Oh and put the linky for this thread and in that one too, if you want. :Hug2:
 
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Honalo

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My husband stuck his tongue out at me as I walked towards him down the aisle.
Later I asked why he did that.
He said I thought you'd be nervous and I wanted to help you relax.
Thanks, hon.
It will be 10 years in January.

And DeleyanLee: Hats off to the best wedding story of the year.
Were gramma's fine linens destroyed in grandpa's (I assume you meant plumbing) truck?
 

jennontheisland

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I had a trike. And a Bugatti. I got married in the same building they tried teh Acid Bath Murderer. We went to the pub after.

My cousin ( who'd sworn off getting married cos all the celebrations were so pompous) got married two months later, she thought it was so much fun. And when we went to hubby's uncle's wedding a fortnight after ours ( a big posh do), every single one of his family sidled up and said 'I preferred yours, it was so relaxed and fun'

Trike:

1.jpg


I would just like to point out neither of these gentlemen is my hubby. The one on the trike is Ghengis.

Dude. You're wearing a dress. That's twice!

(you look purdy btw)
 

Selah March

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Big, fat, and Greek. I played the role of the clueless outsider who converted for love.

Truths:

1. You haven't lived till you've been drunk on ouzo. On the other hand, you haven't been brought back from the brink of death till you've survived an ouzo hangover.
2. Lamb really is a vegetable.
3. In any gathering of Greek men, fully one third will be called "Nick." (In the first two pews on my husband's side of the church we had a grandfather, a first cousin, an uncle, and a second cousin all known as "Nick." My new bro-in-law "Nick" was the Best Man. Second cousin "Nicole" was a Jr. Bridesmaid.)

Myths:

The Windex thing. That's just silly.
 

Seaclusion

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I showed up drunk and twenty minutes late for the ceremony. I don't remember the ceremony. My bride-to-be broke her ankle the night before and had to be helped down the aisle rather than just escorted by her father despite enough pain killers to make her not remember the event.


Richard
 

aadams73

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1. You haven't lived till you've been drunk on ouzo. On the other hand, you haven't been brought back from the brink of death till you've survived an ouzo hangover.
2. Lamb really is a vegetable.
3. In any gathering of Greek men, fully one third will be called "Nick." (In the first two pews on my husband's side of the church we had a grandfather, a first cousin, an uncle, and a second cousin all known as "Nick." My new bro-in-law "Nick" was the Best Man. Second cousin "Nicole" was a Jr. Bridesmaid.)

Myths:

The Windex thing. That's just silly.

The Windex thing? Ahhh, have you been to Greece? Every household has a bottle of blue rubbing alcohol/isopropyl. Got a cold? Out comes the bottle. Got a bruise? Out comes the bottle. Fall out of a tree?(yes, I witnessed this) Out comes the bottle. Need to clean windows? Out comes the bottle. That's where the Windex thing comes from; one of the original ingredients was isopropyl.

1. Oh God, yes, you will beg for sweet death with a ouzo hangover.

3. I have twenty-something first cousins and twice as many(at least) second cousins. Not one is called Nick(because Greeks name kids after the paternal grandfather first, then the maternal, etc.) Most of them are called John or George. So we'd refer to them by their parents' names first. "Dina's John." "Margarita's George." And so on. That way it's less confusing. *snort*
 

Selah March

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The Windex thing? Ahhh, have you been to Greece? Every household has a bottle of blue rubbing alcohol/isopropyl. Got a cold? Out comes the bottle. Got a bruise? Out comes the bottle. Fall out of a tree?(yes, I witnessed this) Out comes the bottle. Need to clean windows? Out comes the bottle. That's where the Windex thing comes from; one of the original ingredients was isopropyl.

1. Oh God, yes, you will beg for sweet death with a ouzo hangover.

3. I have twenty-something first cousins and twice as many(at least) second cousins. Not one is called Nick(because Greeks name kids after the paternal grandfather first, then the maternal, etc.) Most of them are called John or George. So we'd refer to them by their parents' names first. "Dina's John." "Margarita's George." And so on. That way it's less confusing. *snort*

I've been to Greece once, and the only blue liquid I recall is the stuff the pediatrician used to wash his hands before he examined my infant. I was too busy boggling at the way he kept his cigarette clamped between his teeth throughout the examination to pay attention to what the blue stuff was -- thanks for clearing that up. :)

On the naming tradition, I lucked out and was able to call my kids Alexander and Maria, which I actually like. But if I'd had a second daughter, her name would have been Iphigenia. There are so few cute nickname options with that, y'know? Or so says Cousin Iffy.