As the hired pianist, I've been to a lot of tacky weddings.

I've seen the best man pee on the bride's gown during the ceremony, afterwards sniffing the maid of honor's butt. Of course, both were dogs so their behavior might be excused.

(I thought it was funny. Was it tacky to laugh?)

Then there were the weddings where the guests behaved worse than dogs!

I've attended more than one reception where I’ve witnessed scantily clad brides in their sexy low-cut gowns accepting dollar bills during the Dollar Dance.

They giggled as dozens of inebriated men tucked money as deeply into the their cleavage as possible. Beforehand, the men were given straight pins to attach the money to the bridal gown. The pins were quickly discarded so they could stuff the bills down her bra and cop a feel!

Treating the bride like a bachelor party stripper is never okay. I was mortified to see blood relatives actually groping their nieces, cousins or even their daughters!

Speaking of which, I attended one wedding where the father of the bride kissed his daughter full on the mouth (like a movie kiss) right in the middle of the dance floor.

That marriage didn't last.

I was hired to play piano for the same bride at her second wedding years later. She didn't include a daughter–father dance for that one.

During one reception, instead of the garter, the drunken groom was able to strip his bride of her panties (with his teeth!) He then proceeded to deeply sniff them before tossing them into a crowd of eligible bachelors, who then fought over who got to take the next whiff.

The panties were passed around from bachelor to bachelor after that, the youngest being twelve years old.

The tackiest of the tacky, however, had to have been the time the happy couple parked grandma in her wheelchair at the farthest table from the dais, who then sat alone even after every last guest had cleared the buffet, and who sat watching the other guests dine because nobody thought to make a plate for her.

I decided to stop playing my dinner set to attend to the grandma.

Under the watchful glares of bride and groom, I arose from the bench behind the piano, and as soon as the music stopped so did the conversation.

Like a record scratch—STOPPED. DEAD SILENCE.

Nobody was listening to what I was playing in the background, beforehand, or so I thought. Nobody listens to the dinner musician. We are merely there for background ambience, just like speakers in an elevator or canned shopping mall music which nobody pays attention to. But when the music stops, people notice.

Lesson learned.

I went through the buffet line, collecting scoops of salads and fruit dishes. I felt the eyes of a hundred guests burning into my back as the caterer shaved a few slices of prime rib from the roast, gingerly setting it upon the fine china with a serving fork.

Then, in awkward silence, I made my way over to Grandma and served her the plate.

She smiled and thanked me profusely as I returned to my station and played some oldie-but-goodies on my keys.

A week later, I was served.

A uniformed clerk bailiff showed up at my front door and handed me the court order.

For taking a moment to feed Grandma, I was being sued by the bride and groom for breaking my contract.

They wanted their money back.

I gave it to them rather than face time in court.

They sued me because they didn't think Grandma mattered.

That was by far the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen at a wedding.