You can dress 'em up...actually, no you can't
Traveling four hours to a wedding in Pennsylvania was a little inconveniant. Especially since I didn’t know either party getting hitched. I went with my boyfriend who had painted houses with the groom when he was in college. As we crossed the Mason Dixon Line, I had a sinking feeling that I was going to be out of my element. I wish that I could say that it was a lovely wedding. The ceremony itself was fairly normal until the best man busted out in the middle of the ceremony with “Love Bites” on his electric guitar. Did I mention that the groom was released from prison two weeks before the ceremony? I’ve no idea what he did to get in jail, but that wasn’t relevant on his day of wedded bliss.
We were actually the fourth and fifth people to arrive at the local V.F.W. where the reception was being held. We were led to the basement by an elderly woman who told us that normally receptions were held upstairs, but it was Bingo night and they didn’t want to upset the regulars. We sat down at a table and watched people frantically set up the food table. Suddenly, a middle-aged man in a navy blue satin jacket came racing in carrying a styrofoam cooler. Skeeter (and yes, that was his actual name) had ridden his bike over to Hardee’s to pick up the food for the gathering. I know that it came from Hardee’s because the cooler broke into pieces in front of me and fried chicken came flying out of the bags and landed at my feet.
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