People who have outdoor weddings in August should be beaten with sticks. Really, where are your heads? The one month a year where it can routinely be counted on to be in the high 90's and you're going make people wear four layers of close-fitting clothing and stand in the sun?
Yeah, despite what you might have seen in The Lord of the Rings, or King Arthur, or Wedding-Centered Chick-Flick, outdoor weddings never take place in shady groves, or idyllic seaside settings, or any of that crap. No, they always seem to be held in the middle of a flood-plain, or a fairway, or some other geographical feature of such exceeding flatness that even people from Nebraska would say 'Damn, this is some flat land right here.' And while there may be some kind of arch-looking construction up at the front(really just a flagpole that has sagged and bent from the heat), if you were hoping that some sort of canopy or awning or tent had been erected to shade the guests, you, pal, have apparently never been to an outdoor wedding. No, there will be no canopies for you. Nothing that might possibly compete with the bride in terms of having eyeballs pointed at it is in any way, shape, or form allowed within 500 yards of this wedding, despite the fact that only the most unfortunate of brides could possibly be confused with a tent in any way. And even then, if you're confronted by two large masses covered in white fabric, and one is shrieking, and the other is cool, silent, and not being avoided by people...I feel confident that you will be able to figure out which is which.
But do not despair, because the wedding party has not neglected it's guests. They have provided...metal folding chairs. Because nothing goes better with layers of close-fitting clothing and a 95 degree day, than a piece of metal that in a pinch can be used to fry an egg. Speaking of eggs frying, those voices you hear in the background, that's not heatstroke(OK, maybe it is). That's every breakfast you've ever had come back to haunt you. "Yeah, how do you like it pal?" they're saying. "Not so great on this side is it, chief?" they want to know.
But at least, now that the bride and groom have had their fairy-tale, you can escape back into the air-conditioning, and go to the reception, where you can try and replace all the liquids you lost with whatever is handy from the open bar.
Unless... (cue ominous music)
Even more inexcusable are the people who are apparently not content with merely broiling their nearest and dearest while they repeat snippets from classic love songs and make goo-goo eyes at each other and feel the need to have both the wedding and the reception outdoors. That's great, not only do I get to baste in my own juices like a Butterball turkey and wonder if maybe my tie-pin is going to pop out to indicate that I'm done, but then I get to stand in the sun and sweat through my suit while I wonder if the heat has made the potato salad go bad and what the chances are of my finding an open restroom in the event that it has.
I'm not anti-wedding here, nor am I down on brides in particular. It's rough, I know. Your head is stuffed full of centerpieces and flowers and making the bridesmaid's dresses as ugly as possible, but spare a thought for your guests. That's all I'm saying. Nobody has outdoor weddings in January, do they? No, because that would be ridiculous. Well, August is the same month, just at the opposite end of the spectrum. If you want an outdoor wedding, have it in April or May, or possibly October, when people can actually enjoy it, instead of worrying about the possibility of Spontaneous Human Combustion and the possible napalm-like qualities of the visible cloud of hair-spray that's hanging around somebody's big-haired aunt.
