This is apparently the official Starbucks of wedding planning. Not sure if it’s the same wedding planner from last time, but I’m going to assume so since two couples consulted with him in my time here (going on 5 hours now). Yes, I know what I’m doing is obnoxious, too, but I purchase drinks and keep quiet, which is more than I can say for about 90% of the ass holes I encounter in my java-infused adventures, so it’s okay.
The first couple, a pair of young hipsters eternally linked by their ugly glasses, seemed very into each other. Aside from the obvious (and as hipsters, plenty was obvious), they didn’t seem like a bad unit. If I knew them, I may actually be rooting for them.
The second couple, however, were far too proud of themselves, and their “innovative” wedding ideas, to muster an intelligent response between them the entire time.
Though the rest of us should all feel privileged that they took the time out from hiking and guzzling six packs of PBR to join us at Starbucks, their aura of redneckery prevented any such appreciation. The proud couple announced to their wedding planner (and everyone in a 15 foot radius) that their dog, who “everyone knows,” would be presenting the ring. Not nocking the practice. Just how inventive and original they think they are. I actually have no doubt that this dog is very popular within their circle of friends because it couldn’t possibly be any less charismatic than these two fuckers.
After discussing the order in which the wedding party would be walking down the aisle, the planner set up his laptop so that they could select the music they’d be entering to. Turns out they love country music. Is that capitalized? The word “country,” where genre is concerned? No. Not when I write it. Capitalization is reserved for formalities and other important things.
So the wedding planner began playing samples of “music.” It’s like, “hey, I’m a professional! Why should I carry headphones and a splitter when I could be sharing this bullshit with the rest of you!” So he did it. He played sample after sample, much to his clients’ delight, followed by the bride to be giggling and saying, “I can’t decide! You know better than me — you pick!” after each one. If only they’d asked my opinion …
It wasn’t just me who had a problem — I saw others look up, as well. Many had headphones of their own on, as did I at this point, but they couldn’t drown out the twangy vomit any better than I could. It took all the restraint in the world to not slide my headphones off and yell across the room, “Hey! Your shitty music is so loud, I can’t even hear the shitty music that Starbucks is playing!”
I thought better of it, turned up the volume on my own laptop, and let the couple (and probably my hearing) fade away in the distance. I did, however, catch one last comment coming from their table — something about riding a horse. Whether they were referring to the wedding or honeymoon, I’ll never know, but if you’d seen these two, you’d question it, too.
In the end, one thing is certain: either this wedding planner needs to get his own office, or I do. Probably both, but even though it’ll take some time, I’m confident that I’ll beat him to it. I already seem to be better off than him. I can afford headphones.