Wherein I Apologize to Everyone in the Fischer-Bell Wedding

Probably no surprise here, but as there was alcohol at this gathering, there’s going to be a lot of things to apologize for. So, with this minimal introduction out of the way, here goes nothing:

  • The staff of the wedding venue: I apologize for going on a tirade about how you were all anti-Semites for not providing yarmulkes. It didn’t occur to me that you guys aren’t solely a wedding venue, and that you host a number of other events. Moreover, I apologize for my Judeo-centric idea that every venue should provide yarmulkes, “a shitload of tallises,” and “motherfucking Manischewitz.” Also: Sorry for threatening to burn down the venue when I realized you guys didn’t have a chuppah available. I’d been stealing Boddingtons from the cooler for an hour by this point, and was really set in the idea that, even though both Stephen and Jacqui are Protestant Christians, they should have been treated to a nice, Jewish wedding.
  • Pastor Lee: I’m sorry for shouting, “You lie!” when you stated very matter-of-factly that marriage wasn’t understood until the coming of Christ. I’d seen your state’s senator shout “You lie!” at President Obama, and assumed this sort of action was accepted in South Carolina. Looking back, I realize that Senator Wilson is a jackass and a scoundrel, and that no sane person should have shouted “You lie!” either in the State of the Union or in the middle of a wedding ceremony is incredibly offensive. In my defense, though, this was the first time I’ve heard that marriage was apparently misunderstood for several thousand years before Christ, and so I was just trying to process it in my drunken brain.
  • The DJ: I’m sorry for coming up to you immediately after the ceremony and trying to bribe you to play “nothing but klezmer.” You probably guessed that I was feeling drunk by the way I walked into the side of the gazebo, and I was because I finished the flask of scotch I’d secreted in my jacket. However, accusing you of being a bastard and a charlatan was completely unwarranted and wrong. I am incredibly sorry. In my defense, though, playing a song with “We do it hard every night” immediately after the bride and groom walked down the aisle was pretty classless.
  • Stephen and Jacqui: I’m really, really sorry for knocking Stephen unconscious after forcing him to get on the chair and be lifted into the air. My vision was pretty hazy at this point, and I–and, somehow, the three other guys lifting Stephen in the chair–didn’t notice the overhang from the second floor. I understand that you, Jacqui, were very upset that your brand new husband was bleeding from a head wound (it really wasn’t that bad and only took a few layers of gauze to stem the blood), but calling me “drunk and disorderly” and threatening to call the police was uncalled for. Remember, there were another three guys holding the chair. It’s not like we meant to knock him unconscious.
  • The Brits: I’m sorry for haranguing all of you about the merits of America vs. the UK. Further, I’m sorry for following some of you around and reading off the Constitution from my phone. This was probably not an event where you wanted to have a political discussion–especially one that wasn’t so much a discussion, and more of a one-man shouting match–and I really, really apologize for shouting “DOWN THE BRITS!” occasionally.
  • To the bridesmaids: Sorry for calling you all lesbians (one after the other) after I went from person to person suggesting that we “pull a Barry White.” That was horrible, and I generally have more class than that. Sorry.
  • To the DJ (again): I’m sorry for puking on you. I tried to drink an entire cup of Scotch at once immediately after requesting “Free Bird” and, apparently, the human throat cannot handle such an influx of high-content alcohol at once.

Well. I think that about sums it all up. If I wronged you during the reception (and I probably did), then I apologize in a general sense. Just… well, let’s hope we don’t have to speak of it again, and I hope that you, Stephen and Jacqui, don’t cut ties with me.

Mazel tov again!

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