When I was nine my family and I were having a barbecue with some close friends at our summer house in Massachusetts.
Our property is right by the coast of coast of Gloucester, meaning we have a great view of both the ocean, and the fifteen other homes packed onto the lot.
Now most of the property we own is made up of beach, field, and a surprising amount of forest, but we can still see (and hear) most of what goes down in our neighbors lives.
Then there was that one time... that one time in August, where the richest, quietist, most vacant family hosted their daughters wedding.
All day we had construction workers running around, building canopy tents, and parking their trucks on OUR LAWN!
And then there were the guests.
Five hundred of them all acting like the great aunt of anyone in sight.
I went to take the trash out at like six in the morning and one of them got out of her car just to come and give me the biggest bone-crushing hug ever and call me someone named Celia.
I just kinda stood there awkwardly while she congratulated me on my new sister-in-law, playing along and just nodding after every word.
Until this lady asked me if I had seen someone named Jamison and I had to put on my role playing hat.
I told her that Jamison had gone for a walk down to the beach, and even pointed her to the private boat launch stairs.
Unfortunately for her, those designer boots were in for a cold surprise.
That is why you always take advantage of main-landers not knowing if the tide was in or out that day.
Very important.
As soon as my little self heard the shriek I booked it for the stairs, running inside and watching from the window as she tried to climb the steep launch, eventually having to ditch the ruined heels.
I mean, who wears leather at a beach anyway?
But the actual night of the wedding was probably the best.
At around nine pm the group went all Tangled style on us and started launching legit floating lanterns off the roof and erupting into cheers when they didn’t fall. (Full disclosure, most of them bit it over the woods but that’s our little secret)
And that’s when the (hopefully drunk) best man decided it was the perfect night to give every living creature in New England a heart attack. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, he started a karaoke.
Yup.
And as if things couldn’t possibly get any worse, my uncle of all people, persuaded us to join in.
Fifteen extra guests then joined in, dressed in the most un-wedding like outfits (think bright orange romper) to enjoy the fun.
That party lasted like three hours before people actually started falling asleep on the lawn, leaving my younger sister and I to drag our parents and cousins back home.
I kid you not, the next day that whole property was silent as the grave. The whole lawn was cleaned up and there wasn’t a dipsy bone crushing Aunt in sight.
We still go back there every year but no one ever even mentioned that we were there, and I don’t think we’re ever gonna tell them.
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