by Heidi Delane

Created on: April 22, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

Why is it always "Brick House" that is the undoing at weddings brave enough for the All-American sport of karaoke? There is always one member of the wedding party who has imbibed in one too many glasses of champagne, and who now fancies him or herself the next big recording artist just waiting to be discovered. Now I cannot stress enough that I know of no one who has been "discovered" drunk at a wedding. Certainly not while wearing an explosion of peach chiffon and a cowboy hat while grinding out a gravelly version of the classic 70's disco tune "Brick House." But did that stop me? Boy howdy, no sir! Just ask the recently divorced father of the bride who is likely to propose to me now that the rice has settled. I can still see the expression of awe on his tanned face. The scene was quite spectacular, I must say, based on all accounts. Allow me to elaborate.

My peach chiffon nightmare of a dress was a size 4. I am a size 6, and so in order to lose the required weight, I stopped drinking my obligatory beer (I'm Irish, give me a break) in the evenings, and stopped eating altogether. My friend was getting married after all, and it was my responsibility to be thinner than she was in her wedding dress. (I am also competitive.)

Combined with my newly diminished alcohol tolerance and existing on 800 calories a day, I was quite exuberant and feeling the range of emotions of the day. My best friend was married! And I was not! And I was turning 30 next week! Why God, why am I alone? Why me? Why HER?

I cried alone in the bathroom, until, that is, the father of the bride tracked me down like one of his sad looking dopey dogs. He dried my tears with a pressed pocket square and coaxed me to stop wiping mascara on the enormous hem of the ugly frothy gown, swimming around me like some melting orange sherbet disaster. "Now, now....let me get you some champagne." He seemed to know what he was talking about, and the 4 other glasses of champagne seemed to have been cried out at this point, and so I took his arm. He helped me to the bar, and ordered champagne and a shot of Chambord. Yum!

Now, I don't want to sound like a prude, but when the father of the bride got "the look" and lunged at me, I lunged for the microphone. "Brin Hos!" I warbled at the DJ, who did not miss a beat. He's obviously been to this parade before. The horrifying guttural growl and gyrating that ensued has proved to be fodder for many a family gathering since. Who knew that Casey's Dad had those moves? More than that, who knew that I would be offered a job as a karaoke host at the local bar? I declined the job, but kept the memories!

Learn more about this author, Heidi Delane.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.