Betty’s Revenge
When wedding bells began to chime in our university friend group, it was common to see the same faces as bridesmaids and groomsmen. Occasionally we’d spot a sibling or cousin added into the mix too.
There was one woman, Betty, who had a way of turning any wedding party she was a part of into her personal spotlight moment. Every wedding she went to, Betty would inevitably take center stage with some dramatic event, from passing out at the altar to a bout of hay fever right during the wedding vows. There was always a twist.
So, when it was our turn to get hitched, my partner and I decided to strategize. We deliberately reduced the number of bridesmaids, conveniently providing us with an excuse to exclude Betty from the lineup. But Betty was no amateur, and wouldn’t be so easily deterred.
By the time the traditional bouquet toss began, I allowed myself a sigh of relief. Nothing had happened yet, and I thought we’d maybe been unfair. Wrong. The bouquet flew through the air only to get snatched up by Betty, like a basketball player trying to sink a rebound.
It devolved into chaos. In the fray, Betty had managed to topple over my wife’s cousin, who was visiting from Seattle, leaving her dazed and sprawled on the floor. Betty, in her dramatic glory, then began to wail that she’d broken her ankle.
So, instead of our planned elegant exit, our wedding ended with two guests heading to the hospital. Betty had struck yet again.