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.)