Weddings are always exceedingly interesting affairs, especially from the standpoint of a dedicated people watcher like yours truly.
And, when given a prime vantage point for such viewing, say as the officiating minister, one could automatically expect some sort of hilarity to occur.
One would be right – except the unintentional comedy was primarily caused by ... me.
Rural Coosa County was the setting for the weekend’s festivities, the nuptials of friends Brent Massey and the-then Beth Bishop. I was there, with my reverend hat on, to help proceed over the ceremonies as best as I could muddle through, backed by passages from my trusty King James Version and a ceremony crafted by the bride herself.
Overall, the whole shindig went somewhat smoothly, despite my somewhat inborn affinity for rather mucking such things up.
I should have recognized the omen of what could be to come when the Google and Apple Map functions on my phone both tried to assure me that a private residence with large, unfriendly looking dogs was the wedding venue site.
As if worrying about being mauled by Cujo and Cujette wasn’t enough, the ... rural aesthetic ... of the home in question made me wonder if the residents possibly a) were kin to the Hatfields or the McCoys; b) were aware that indoor plumbing wasn’t a fad; c) were pointing an unseen weapon somewhere in my vicinity.
Thankfully, the owners were sitting on their porch and were kind enough to point me in the correct direction. Allegedly, confused lay pastors have shown up quite often on their driveway.
Before the actual ceremony, I had taken the couple’s rings with me for safe keeping, slipping them into the pages of the chapter in Colossians I planned to use with the ring pledge.
Just before kickoff, I began to review my pages and make sure I had the lines, but when I flipped to the New Testament, I saw only the groom’s ring.
There are few moments of panic like when one has been entrusted with something like this and manages to make a mess of it, but I believe only the grandparents might have noticed the color slightly drain from my face and the grimace of exasperation and fear.
I immediately ran back to inform my date Lane of the predicament, who looked at me with the biggest “Oh, crap” look I’ve ever seen.
We began our scouring of the surrounding area, searching for the sheen from the tiny precious metals or shiny stones.
Thankfully, my hawk eye caught a glimpse of the jewelry and I perhaps too casually attempted the old “Silly me, I have to tie my shoe” bend and grab (despite the fact I was wearing loafers without laces).
However, in the upswing back to fully standing, I conked my head on a brick overhang, sending me reeling backward into an unused piece of patio furniture at the outdoor venue. Several wedding attendees were treated to the show.
See – weddings don’t have to be boring affairs. A little surprise, a little physical comedy; what’s not to love?
Lane and I decided it would, perhaps, not be the best idea to inform the happy couple of this particular incident the day of their wedding. Words like “murder” and “horrible dismemberment” might have been used; one’s memory is fuzzy.
However, I feel the newly-minted Masseys are a fun-loving and, hopefully, forgiving couple, so I hope they won’t mind me sharing those stories.
Congratulations and wonderful well-wishes for your lovely life together, kids.
A native Opelikan, Cliff McCollum is an amateur field herpetologist and newspaper creator extraordinaire. When he’s not teaching a class at the high school, attending city council or writing this column, you might find him serving chicken salad plates at Cottage Cafe. His sense of humor is exceeded only by his love for the Opelika community.
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