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"Excuse me, ma'am."
Surely they aren't ma'aming my friend K____. I mean, K____ is older than me, but she looks seriously young. Of course, this means, I'm going to get sir'ed in the near future.
"Yes. Ma'am. Wrapped packages aren't allowed in to the Wedding Pavilion or the parks."
"Uh...this is a wedding gift. You know. For the wedding."
"Yes. Well, someone will have to take that for you. Security and all." And just when I think, finally, a Fucking Mouse employee is going to do something useful (even if it is in the name of security), one of the bridesmaids comes up to us to take the gift. "Just give the package to her."
You're shitting me. Fucking Mouse.
One of the ushers comes up to K____ and I and takes K____'s arm to escort us into the Wedding Pavilion. The Pavilion really is quite nice. Beautiful high ceilings. Nice architecture. And glass windows at the front looking out over the water separating us from Epcot and that fucked up ball. But we're far enough away that you really can't see the park and there's no sign of the Mouse anywhere.
As we get to our seats, K___ and I must have been thinking the same thing, because we both stopped and looked at each other. Then K____ said to me, "So, you think they can pack in the benches a little tighter?"
Seriously.
The benches could not have been five inches from the back of one bench to the front of the bench behind it. Doing out best impression of sardines, K____ and I sucked in and wedged ourselves into our seats.
When the ceremony began, K___ and I were still sitting at attention (as it was the only way we could sit in the pews), but could not help but go into catty-mode. While the navy blue bridesmaid's dresses were actually nice, it became clear that there was no uniform "dress code" for bridesmaid shoes. When the youngest bridesmaid pulled up her skirt slightly to roll the white carpet down the aisle for the bride, not only was it apparent she was wearing open-toed, platform-soled sandals that were too small for her feet, but that she hadn't considered get a pedicure to get rid of the green nail polish on her toes (which, of course, didn't match her finger nails).
The bride, however, looked fantastic. And the groom looked good as well. After everyone made it to the end of the aisle, the ceremony began. The reverend welcomed us all, opened his book, and then something became apparent to everyone in the room. Well, if not everyone, certainly to K___ and I, who turned to each other with the same "what-the-fuck" look.
The reverend hadn't looked over the service before he started.
Now, I'm well aware of the fact that a lot of people can read something aloud just fine without having read it beforehand. And, hell, I certainly expect that a reverend, particularly one like this who has a few years on him, has probably conducted a wedding or two before. So, there are circumstances where reviewing something you read before a gathering of people isn't necessary before you actually do it.
This wasn't one of those situations.
The reverend stuttered and stammered through the entire service, often mispronouncing any polysyllabic word. Of course, these were complex words that never appear in a wedding ceremony, like "matrimony" and "dedication." It was so painful to watch, I was tempted to get up, yell at him to shut the fuck up and sit down and take over the ceremony myself.
Eventually, the reverend went off script, proving that he wasn't actually retarded, to discuss how he had come to know the bride and groom, how close he had grown to them, and how they had become like family to him. Of course, when he went back to reading, the stuttering and stammering began anew. Finally, as though the Lord had taken mercy upon us, he stated, "You may kiss the bride."
The groom leaned in, and almost like it were scripted, fireworks began shooting off across the water in Epcot, right behind them. As I learned later, the firework show had been early and, although paying to have fireworks in the background is certainly an option (isn't everything with the Fucking Mouse), this show purely was coincidental.
The reverend, not to have his incompetence outdone by a mere fireworks show, then announced, "ladies and Gentlemen, I now introduce for the first time, F____ and D____ D____!"
One problem.
The groom's name wasn't F____.
The bride owns a dog named F____.
But the groom...not F___.
The groom, who now had a look of panic on his face as if he were thinking, "Is this thing legal if they guy said the wrong name?," attempted to lean toward the reverend to have him correct the mistake. The reverend though, apparently so taken up with emotion by having married two young people who are like his family (whose names he may also not be able to remember), simply shooed the couple down the aisle.
And even if the reverend could have corrected it, it was too late, the music was blaring, streamers were falling.
Then, just as I had forgotten that I was at a Fucking Mouse wedding, once the bride and misnamed groom were out the door, , one of the Fucking Mouse employees yells out, "Everyone please proceed to the buses! You cannot take your cars to the reception! Buses will return you to the Wedding Pavilion after the reception!"
Nice. Good way to keep the mood.
Couldn't that have been included in the program or softly mentioned to guests as they left the ceremony?
Fucking Mouse.
After getting a crowbar and wedging ourselves out of the pews, everyone proceeded outside and, at the direction of the bridesmaids, stood by the limousine to greet the bride and groom as they left for the reception. Then the Fucking Mouse employees came over to the limousine and shouted, "There's no greeting the bride and groom. You all need to get on the buses."
Patented Fucking Mouse.
As it turns out, the Fucking Mouse employees were wrong. The guests were supposed to greet the couple as they left.
Nevertheless, K___ and I piled into the buses with the rest of the guests and took a lovely trip through the bowels of the Fucking Mouse property where we had majestic views of multiple port-a-potties to a "behind-the-scenes" entrance to Epcot's Hall of the Americas.
Along the way, K___ and I bet on whether the Fucking Mouse would serve real alcohol. I guessed they wouldn't, being too concerned about their image. K___ thought they would, but that the Fucking Mouse would insist on a cash bar at exorbitant Fucking Mouse prices.
As we got off the buses, we were directed into the park by Fucking Mouse employees waving lighted flashlight cones used by airport traffic controllers. As we walked into the park in our formal attire, Fucking Mouse guests looked at us like we were insane.
These are the same people who paid $120 a ticket to get into this place for the day.
Yeah. We're insane.
We walked by a group of vendors and I couldn't help myself but turn to K____ and ask, "Dare me to buy a turkey leg?"
When we entered the reception, K___ and I were both exceedingly thankful we were both wrong and there was an open bar. Granted, the bartender diluted the alcohol more then he should of, but there was an open bar nonetheless.
So, K___ and I made a b-line for the bar, followed by a trip to the ever popular hors d'oeuvres table. Figuring that we would let the older guests take the tables with seats, K___ and I went to a "stand-up" table. Soon enough we were making small chat with people we really didn't want to talk to, an older man and his wife, who by the size of her hat apparently thought the reception was at the Kentucky Derby. As they were telling us about their vacation, I began looking at the four very full plates of appetizer they had between them. I kept thinking to myself a) you know that you can always go back and get more, don't you, and b) we are still having dinner at some point, right? Maybe the lady needed the extra energy to keep her head up with that hat on.
After suffering through the exceedingly painful conversation, I saw that both K___ and my drinks were getting low. When I returned from refilling them, the other two guests were gone and I was the recipient of quite a nasty gaze.
"I can't believe you left me alone with them."
"Oh. Sorry, but after listening to that I really needed a drink."
"Don't do it again. Seriously."
"Okay."
At dinner we sat with some more "interesting" people. There was also a bridesmaid who wore more makeup than Tammy Faye Baker and Katherine Harris combined, with her companion (who I believe she introduced as her "fiancee"). However, K___ and I couldn't tell the companion's sex, so we nicknamed it "Pat." And Pat wasn't exactly the most attentive fiancee. When Tammy Faye mentioned she was cold, Pat just responded, "Oh yeah?" After watching this ordeal, I asked K___ if it would be too obnoxious if I gave Tammy Faye my jacket. K___ said, "While I would like to see that, probably better if you don't." It wasn't until Tammy Faye explicitly requested Pat's jacket that s/he bothered to give it to her. Apparently chivalry among the androgynous is dead.
K___ and I spent much of the evening on the dance floor. We also spent some time with the newly married couple, where I introduced myself to "F____." And then we were ready to make it an evening, so we thanked the parents for having us and congratulated the new bride and groom.
We left the reception, only to be stopped by a Fucking Mouse employee.
"Excuse me, sir..."
See, I knew that "sir" was coming.
"Sir, you can't leave."
Marcel, in his Fucking Mouse uniform, was rushing toward us.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, sir, the buses are going to leave in a little more than a half an hour and the park is closed, so we can't let you leave without an escort."
I have a feeling that "escort" isn't the good kind, the kind with a name like "Bubbles" or "Candi."
"How long will it take to get an escort?"
"A little more than a half hour."
Fucking figures.
"So, we have to sit here and wait for a half hour before we can leave?"
"Yes sir."
Ugh.
Then Marcel plops a nice crap cherry on top of his shit sundae.
"Thanks sir. And have a magical evening."
Fuck you too, Marcel.
So, K___ and I wait, falling asleep, for forty-five minutes before we can leave the wedding. Finally, the bride and groom leave and we return to the bowels of the park and get on our buses. After a tour around the "resorts," where K___ passed the time by napping and I passed the time by flirting with a cute girl, we are finally returned to the "Pop Century" and again walked halfway through the property to get back to our room.
After chanting "Fucking Mouse" a few more times, K___ decided to dare me to have a little fun with the Fucking Mouse employees at 1 am. And that's a dare I just can't pass up.
"Front desk."
"Hi. Um...I just got back to my room and...um...have been looking everywhere...and um...I can't seem to find my minibar. Is it under the bed or something?"
[silence]
"Uh...no sir. [pause] You don't have a minibar in your room."
"Are you sure? I mean, I'm really starting to lose my buzz."
[silence]
"Yes sir. I'm sure."
"Shit. Okay. Thanks."
"Have a magical..." [click]
"So K____, dare me to call back and ask what the pay-per-view porn channel is?"
*This title makes reference to the fact that the Fucking Mouse releases a straight to video sequel to every animated film it makes, whether successful or not. Yet another effort to suck dry parents who have no choice but to appease their children by buying them everything with a Fucking Mouse logo.
Hawk Tuah Girl Haliey Welch is Not Jewish. Probably.
4 months ago
