Hey Limo man, please get the fuck out of my way.
No like, really.
I know you have a job to do, and here is what that job is: to drive the limousine.
Here is what your job is not: to be in every photo of mine with the bride.
Look, we all know you love your little-red-riding-hood red carpet runner, which you lovingly have rolled up in the trunk. We know you love the sideshow of removing it like a dead body and unrolling it like it was filled with gold coins or the Lindbergh baby.
You adore your wobbly wine cooler propped precariously on the sidewalk. OHHH - the DRAMA when you un-pop the cork and the crowd swoons having never heard that sound before! "AVERT YOUR EYES, IT'S WITCHCRAFT!!" the crowd screams.
And then the 'assistance' begins. Yeah, let's not let Dad open the car door (because how would he know how to do that?) Instead, let's have this strange Driver Man open the door, takes the brides hand and then stand there like a pile of old dry cleaning. This way years from now, the bride and groom can look back and think, "Oh sweetie, remember that special man who opened a door for us and is now in every fucking picture?"
Look, most of these fucks are dressed like they stopped at the Goodwill bin behind a highway Mobil Station to find an outfit on the way to the wedding. Frumpy, disheveled and dressed like a cartoon version of what a 'limo driver' looks like - they stand around, tiny arms flailing, trying to 'help' but rather blocking great shots and becoming an unwanted guest in their photos. "Hey Photo Guy - do you want to get the shot of the door opening?" they'll ask. "Nah, I dont really do that," I often say more to watch their baffled looks than anything else.
Even better, is when this drivey douche decides to walk the bride up the fucking church stairs, while poor Dad trails behind not knowing what to do. "Maybe she isn't my daughter after all," Dad ponders holding back tears of paternity uncertainty moments before the ceremony.
So Limo People - do the couple a favor know ALL the addresses ahead of time (yep, that shit happens) and just drive the fucking car towards the church or reception or wherever. Don't stand there with your mental pre-programmed dog and pony show - people just want to get from 'A' to 'B.'
And speaking of being IN THE WAY, next time we'll talk all about cunty Church ladies.
