The year that we were married was sort of unusual in our family. We had three weddings in one year.
Luckily we managed to schedule them a few months apart. My cousin Kevin's wedding was a nice, fun, loud Irish wedding. no problems, at least none that we knew of other than a few hangovers the next day.
Then came my family, my brother #4 of 5 got married but for some reason almost half the people invited didn't show. When asked, they said they thought it was a joke. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he got married on April 1st and the RSVP was due on February 30th?
Then, there was our wedding, I am the only daughter and I think my father called in every favor owed him for the reception. We wanted a small wedding and I asked him to help pay for it. Within a month he had a florist, caterer, and limo all lined up. The ceremony, performed by a justice of the peace who had done several mixed marriages, was short and simple. My husband is Jewish and I was raised Catholic. I was 29 almost 30 when we got married. I think at that time Dad was so glad I was getting married he didn't care where. The day of the wedding was gorgeous, everything went fine. The party went well. Until...
My uncle, father to the groom from the first wedding earlier that year, fortified by many bottles of beer decided he wanted to dance. While he was up there, he thought it would be fun to entertain everyone with a striptease. I was mortified. I grabbed his wife and my father and told them to stop him or I was leaving. Luckily they stopped him.
My father does know how to throw a party and it continued long after we left. It was only when we returned from our honeymoon that we found my brothers had tried one last trick. They called every hotel in the city of Boston looking for us. Everyone but the one we stayed in, thank god. Family weddings, you gotta love them.