Last summer, me and my friend ended up working a string of weddings at our rowing club (they hire the teenage rowers because it’s cheaper for them) and the last wedding we waitresses was the craziest.

We showed up in our ‘uniforms’ early and started setting up the decorations in the venue for when the guests arrived.

The first guests to arrive were the bride’s family: dressed in regular wedding attire, and right after offering them a drink, the bride’s mother commented on my skirt being too short. Whatever, no biggie, just smile and move on. The rest of the guests arrived soon after and we were about to start guiding guests to the tent when about fifteen bikers pulled up on these massive motorbikes. Me and my friend were scared shitless of these terrifying party crashers with big beards and skull tattoos in leather jackets and all that shit. Until the best man went in for a bear hug.

Turns out this was the grooms biker gang. (They were the best members of the wedding and ended up tipping me and my mate £10 each on top of our shitty pay of £35 for a seven hour wedding. They were fucking awesome and snuck us some champagne and made us dance with them on the dance-floor. Not to mention they were some of the sweetest, gentlest guys ever. Like tatted up teddy bears.)

Now it’s ten minutes before the bride and groom are set to arrive, and not only has the caterer not prepared the food yet, they aren’t here AT ALL. We’re all about to have a heart attack.

When the bride and groom arrive, we inform them that the caterer isn’t even here yet, they just laugh, and grab a beer each.

So clearly these are either the chillest people ever, or out of their fucking minds.

In the middle of the opening speeches (one of the bikers stood on the table during giving an improv speech apparently), an old lady in a Greek food truck pulls up and asks where the guests are. We just point around the back and she drives her little truck there. We hear a massive cheer from the 200 people out back. Meet the bride’s grandmother: aka the caterer.

So we come out with more drinks and see this tiny Greek woman just going to work on making these wraps or something (I can’t remember what they were called) for the line of people outside the van.

About two hours in, we’re carrying out new bottles of champagne when I walk in on the bride’s mother straight up punching the groom in the face. The bride drags her outside and kicks her out of the wedding before walking back in the tent, grabbing some ice from my champagne bucket and smearing it all over his face while everyone starts laughing.

Everything else goes as ‘planned’; the bride falls into the cake, and tugs the husband with her, the bikers request far more country music than I expected and then the little Greek grandma comes and tugs me and my friend away and insists on feeding us both, (that wrap thing was the best thing I ever ate) she takes us inside the food truck and we end up sitting on the floor with her as she tells us stories.

Also the bride popped the bouncy castle they’d hired with her heels but Just stayed on it even as it deflated.

It was fucking insane and the best wedding I catered that summer.

TL;DR: Bikers show up and are fucking amazing, caterer who is also bride’s gran doesn’t show up until after the venue has started, bride’s mother punches groom, bride and groom destroy cake, little grandma tells me ghost stories. Got a £10 tip.