Father Of The Tried

(It’s my wedding day, and my dad is driving me insane. Literally.)

Dad: “I’ll drive you to your hairdresser appointment.”

Me: “Thanks, but I can drive myself, Dad.”

Dad: “No! It’s your wedding day, and I know how you brides get. You’ll probably crash your car because you’re hysterical. Better to let me do it.”

Me: *giving up* “Fine. I need to go to [Salon]. Because the timing is a bit tight, I’ll need to take my dress with me and change after my hair is done, so don’t drive off with my dress still in the car, okay?”

Dad: “Leave everything to me.”

(We get in the car and start driving… in the wrong direction.)

Me: “Dad?”

Dad: *ignores me*

Me: “DAD!”

Dad: “WHAT?”

Me: “Where are we going?”

Dad: “To [Wrong Location], just like you told me!”

Me: “No, I told you [Salon]!”

Dad: “Ugh.” *turns around*

(We arrive at the correct location.)

Me: “Okay, Dad, just let me grab my dress—”

Dad: *starts to drive away*

Me: “DAD!” *bangs on car*

Dad: “Now what?”

Me: “My dress!”

Dad: “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” *opens trunk*

(The rest of the day goes fairly smoothly, but then we get to the reception. I am happily chatting with some of my guests when Dad walks up to me with a scowl.)

Dad: “Hey, I need to talk to you.”

Me: “Sure, what’s up?”

Dad: “Your grandmother needs a cup of tea.” *looks at me expectantly*

Me: “Okay?”

Dad: “Well? Talk to one of these people!” *gestures at the staff*

Me: “Why me?”

Dad: “You’re the bride! They’ll listen to you!”

Me: “Dad, you’re the father of the bride, and you’re a guest. They’ll listen to you.”

Dad: “Hmph.” *stomps away*

(The irony is that, after his insistence that brides get “hysterical,” the only thing making me even close to hysterical that day was HIM. I still love him, though.)