I WAS TALKING
TO DARRELL
By
Dean Michael
“I have to go to a wedding reception Saturday—you need to help me get out of it.”
“Why?” I asked.
“These people are crazy,” Darrell replied after a long sip of coffee that did little to take the edge off. “Which means the music
is going to be crap.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Really? The name of the DJ is ‘Mr. Bojingles’. Can you believe it? Not Bojangles, but Bojingles.”
I couldn’t argue with him. Odds were pretty good that Darrell was in for a night of dried chicken, double baked potato and
vegetable medley; obligatory toasts laced with insides jokes that only three people get--and forced to sit next to Uncle Carl
providing a blow by blow account of how he makes his own deer sausage and jerky.
“By the sour look on your face, maybe The Hokey Pokey or The Electric Slide will cheer you up,” I joked.
“That’s the coffee; they always add too much cream. C’mon, seeing seventy-three year old Aunt Agnes wiggling to The
Macarena will push me to the brink. But that’s not what I’m dreading. It’s that one song that will throw me over the edge. The
one they play incessantly at every wedding, the one that makes you want to puncture your eardrums with a cocktail fork…the
one song that needs to be outlawed from every wedding reception. And that’s…”
We know that song is already driving you nuts. It’s there in your head, making your skin crawl. What is the one song that should be banned
from all wedding reception playlists?
That is, unless you like seeing Uncle Carl hopping around looking like he walked into a spider web to “Proud Mary”.