The primitive wedding is all the rage at the moment. Everyone seems to be clamoring for barn receptions and aged wood signage. I wish I would have seen this trend coming and invested in large quantities of mason jars to sell to all the ladies clamoring for centerpieces and craft projects galore. The other week, I was a guest at wedding held on a working farm that perfectly captured this rustic vibe.
It was whimsical in the best way. A chicken roamed right in front of the bride and groom during the ceremony, much to everyone’s delight, and horses trotted in and out of sight behind us. A barn cat attacked my date’s Allen Edmonds shoes and scratched them up, leaving him understandably grumpy. These little charms added to the overall wedding experience. However, when you’re going for an authentic look, you don’t really get to pick and choose what elements stay and which go. I found this out the hard way later in the evening.
A night of dancing, a shot or two, and a mysterious mixed drink someone called “The Backwoods Bandit” steered me right into the hot zone of feeling like I was either going to be down for the count, or vomit and rally. My man was kind enough to help me outside so I could find a place in peace to take care of business. He pointed out a corner in the shadows of the barn and left me to do my drunk thing.
I’m pretty much a pro at throwing up and have it down to an art form. If you don’t have a toilet seat to rest your arms on and you’re standing up, the next best method is to lean over something so you don’t end up with vom all over your clothes. Applying this technique, I propped my arms over the fence and was ready to rid my body of sin when I felt like I had simultaneously hit both of my funny bones. I tried to pull away, but my arms were firmly stuck where they were as my muscles started tightening up. I quickly realized what kind of fence I was on, and the pain got all too real as I frantically tried to pull my worthless arms up and off while screaming for help. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only 5 seconds, I finally got unattached and fell backward. I had spit all over my face and was laying in the grass all out bawling when my date finally found me.
He loaded me in the backseat of his car to calm down and questioned me on whether I wanted to go to the hospital after I claimed I thought my heart may have stopped. In the end, I waited about five minutes then was back on the dance floor, hindered only by some limited mobility in my arms.
The next morning, I woke up in the hotel feeling pretty shitty. The fencing had dug in under my arm leaving a nice bruise line, and my muscles were still achy. But, I was still alive and overall had a really great time the night before. It was a blessing that I was as deep in the bottle as I was, because that kind of zap probably would have hurt a lot more sober.
Reflecting post-electrocution, I noted that this is not my first wedding-related incident. Earlier this year, I busted my lip open after someone kicked me on the drunk shuttle back to the hotel at the end of the night. Fourth of July weekend, I was the bridesmaid that ended the night with a giant bruise and lump on my knee after I took a tumble during a poorly organized Congo line. At my brother’s wedding two years ago, an aggressive attempt to catch the bouquet left me benched with a shoulder pull. At this point, I would be shocked if I didn’t leave a reception with some form of injury.
If people are going to keep up this barn wedding trend, I caution you all to be aware of your surroundings, and more importantly keep a good attitude. Whether it’s stepping in cow shit, struggling to pee in a port-o-potty instead of regular bathrooms, or getting electrocuted, take it in stride and don’t let it ruin your night. It makes for a good story anyway. .