{Provocation} It’s OK to Get Married the Weekend of The Big Game

This is the most controversial thing I’m ever going to say on The Broke-Ass Bride:

It is ok to get married the weekend of “The Big Game.” [Sorry for being coy, but to borrow an expression from Wiz Khalifa, "you know what it is." I'm just trying to avoid bringing the legal wrath of the NFL to our lovely site here. ~Lawyered.]

Really.  If you ask the mainstream wedding minds, they’ll tell you this is the absolute worst weekend of the year to get married.  Worse than New Year’s Eve. Worse than Christmas. Worse than April Fool’s Day!

They’ll tell you that no one wants to travel the weekend of The Championship Game in Professional American Football.  They want to stay home and tweak the settings on their televisions for the ultimate game-viewing experience.  They want to start simmering their chili for that two-day umami blast. Those people who show up out of obligation (expect only blood relatives) will begrudge you for complicating the Most Important Weekend in American Sports Broadcasting.  And while you’d hoped your wedding guests would talk about your moving ceremony, your special love, and your awesome reception details, it’ll be all field goal this and two-point conversion that.

Broke-Ass Nation, this is total crap.

Really. It is OK to get married this weekend.  People will still come to your wedding.  Yes, they will probably talk about football. But that will not destroy your wedding.  And if travel mishaps make them miss The Fiesta of Expensive Advertisements and Also Football, guess what: it will be OK.

Here’s how I know: I missed Superbowl XLIII because of travel mishaps after going to a Bar Mitzvah.

The year was 2009.  Collin and I had been dating for about four months. We’d just shared our first “I Love You”s.  He asked me to go to St. Louis with him to attend his cousin’s bar mitzvah, and to meet his parents for the first time. I agreed before I even knew the date.

When playoffs began, I realized that we’d be in St. Louis on The Day of the Final Game of the Football Season.  As the Pittsburgh Steelers advanced, I cheered with the rest of my town, but inwardly cringed: was I going to miss a Steeler Schmuper Schmowl?  Could I really live with myself as a Pittsburgher if that happened?

So Collin and I changed our flight home so we’d get back in the ‘Burgh just around kickoff.   I had a wonderful time meeting his family and partying like at 13-year-old at the bar mitzvah.  We had the shirts in the photo above made as our party favors.  And we had our first ever “I think we should eventually get married” talk.

It was a great weekend, about to get even better by virtue of Steeler Championship Football.  And then, things took a turn for the worse:  our new earlier flight got canceled.  Our re-booking was going to get us back in Pittsburgh well into the second-half. [I don't know if our original flight would have been better for us. I've never checked, because I don't want to smash my head into a wall.]

We had a connection in Baltimore, conveniently timed to let us catch James Harrison’s 100-yard interception for a TD.  It was beyond strange to be the only person screaming “Go go go” in an airport bar full of Ravens fans. But at least I got to see the best play in the game.

Our flight boarded as halftime began.  Halftime starring Bruce Springsteen.  Although Pittsburgh is my adopted home, I’m a born and raised Jersey Girl.  Missing halftime was maybe the biggest disappointment for me. Maybe? I mean definitely.

Our flight to Pittsburgh had about twelve people on it.  When we landed, we discovered the PIT airport bars were all closed.  (Pittsburgh the city pretty much shuts down at 2:ooPM on Game Day).  We ran to our car and turned on the sports radio.  Let me tell you: Santonio Holmes’ game-winning toes sound much less impressive than they look.

[source]

During the booth review on that play, we found a bar and ducked inside, just so we could share the moment with fellow Pittsburghers.  The game was pretty much over, but I’m still grateful I got to see the final seconds on screen, surrounded by Steeler fans.  Even if it would have been better to see the whole game surrounded by friends.

So the moral of this trip down memory lane  is this:  I missed maybe the worst possible Über Schale for me to miss.  But I’ve never regretted going to the bar mitzvah that made me miss it, even for a second.  And you know what? Two years later, my team is back in The Game.  Life (and football) goes on.

The only people who really need to worry about their wedding possibly conflicting with the Superb Awl are professional football players and the people who marry them.  [I mean, even if he's on the Browns or something, dare to dream.]  Ok, and sports journalists.

Otherwise, if you want to get married the weekend of Football Supremacy, you can. Or, if you realize after you book your venue that you’re getting married that weekend, don’t sweat it!  The Bowl of Supertude happens every year. Your wedding happens just around once.  Don’t let haters keep you off your grind.

Do you agree or think I should wash my mouth out with AstroTurf for my blasphemy? Anyone else ever gone to a wedding or other big party on the weekend of The Big Game?  Did it work out better for you than it did for me?

-Robin