She gave her strapless gown one more yank firmly into place before taking her father's arm and rounding the corner. She looked down the long aisle as the music started to play. She walked down the aisle, smiling at the familiar faces until suddenly... a yank. A cool breeze. Her father had stepped on her train, pulling down her strapless dress and revealing her breasts to all the assembly. Time seemed to slow as she tried to cover herself, grab her dress, and run back down the aisle. As the bride ran down the aisle the mother of the bride began crawling over the pews, hurling obscenities, until she was close enough to start hurling punches at her ex-husband for ruining their daughter's big day.
Fortunately, this was not my wedding. Unfortunately I wasn't even there. But Magpie posted a wedding story, in response to Mayberry Mom's question "What’s the story you end up telling and retelling about your wedding, or one you attended?" And I couldn't help but think of this story that my husband tells often.
When the Big Guy and I got married he had one stipulation: no strapless dresses.