The most ridiculous moment of the wedding weekend took place on Saturday morning.
My cousin, Sarah, and I headed in to town in her Chevy, with the wagon, loaded with the buggy, attached to the back. We had to park the wagon/buggy at the church so the horses could be hitched in time for us to drive to the reception site.
The ride went fairly smooth until we arrived at the church. The place we had hoped to park the buggy was full of cars, so we had to improvise.
(Everytime I say "we," I actually mean Sarah. I was just along for the ride.)
We decided to briefly drive the wrong way on a one-way street, pull in the church parking lot to turn around, and park the wagon on the perpendicular street.
The idea seemed straight forward (even if my description didn't), but turning out of the parking lot onto the street turned out to be a problem.
I was on the phone as we made the turn, and Sarah had her car up on the curb to get the wagon out of the street, when we heard a snap followed by a dragging sound.
Sarah swore and jumped out of the car. I turned, saw the wagon no longer attached and rolling backwards down the street, hung up the phone, and took off running.
The hitch had broken. Free from the attachment to the car, the wagon decided it had other places to be.
Luckily Sarah caught the wagon before any damage was done.
Then we used our burly muscles to park the wagon draft-horse style and borrowed a couple blocks to act as brakes.
Everything turned out fine. The wagon carried us to the reception and made it back home.
But, oh, if you could have seen us running down the road.