05/31/2026
AN OPEN LETTER TO EVENT PLANNERS, DIY BRIDES, LANDSCAPERS, AND THE FIVE WOLF SPIDERS WHO NOW OWN PART OF MY SOUL
Dear Friends,
Yesterday I had the pleasure of bartending an absolutely gorgeous wedding.
The flowers were stunning.
The guests were wonderful.
The couple was radiant.
The catering team was amazing.
The bar, however, was located approximately three inches from what I can only describe as a spider condominium complex built into a freshly mulched luxury development.
At first, I thought I saw a spider.
Then I saw a second spider.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Then a fifth.
At that point I stopped counting because I was busy updating my will.
For those unfamiliar, wolf spiders are harmless.
For those familiar with my personality, so are roller coasters, public speaking, and taxes, and I don’t enjoy any of those either.
The first spider appeared and I reacted professionally.
By professionally, I mean I made a noise normally associated with malfunctioning smoke detectors.
After realizing this was not an isolated incident but rather an organized invasion, I implemented Emergency Spider Protocol.
Step one: tuck pant legs into socks.
Step two: remain vigilant.
Step three: spend the next six hours moving around the bar like MC Hammer had been hired by the Department of Homeland Security.
Guests probably thought I was dancing.
I was not dancing.
I was conducting continuous anti-arachnid surveillance operations.
Every unexpected breeze became a threat.
Every leaf was suspicious.
Every shadow had eight legs.
At one point I became convinced a decorative fern was plotting against me.
I have never worked so hard to look calm while internally filing workers’ compensation paperwork.
At this time, I’d like to take a moment to thank my coworkers for their unwavering support during this difficult time.
And by support, I mean they repeatedly abandoned me in favor of the spiders.
Every time I identified an enemy combatant, someone would rush over and say things like:
“Awww, look at his little face!”
“He’s actually kind of cute!”
“Wait! Don’t move! I need a picture!”
A PICTURE.
Friends, I was fighting for my life.
Meanwhile these traitors had apparently started a wildlife photography club.
Not a single person looked at me with the same affection they showed those spiders.
Not one.
The spiders received rescue missions, relocation assistance, and professional portrait sessions.
The spiders had a better security detail than the bar staff.
I received laughter.
I’d also like to recognize the incredible team from Center Stage Catering. They are a fantastic five-star catering company and we always love working with them. We have worked for this amazing company for years when we are not working our own events.
Their service was flawless.
Their food was amazing.
Their staff was outstanding.
Unfortunately, every member of their spider protection program is now permanently listed in my emotional support restraining order, and one or two may be dead to me forever.
Again, with love.
But still.
As a small educational moment for future event planners, consider your bar placement carefully.
Bars and fresh mulch should maintain a respectful long-distance relationship.
Shade is also appreciated because it keeps bartenders cooler and ice from melting faster than my courage when Wolf Spider #4 made eye contact with me.
The wedding itself was perfect.
The guests were kind.
The atmosphere was magical.
The drinks flowed.
The spiders prospered.
And despite spending the evening one unexpected leg movement away from becoming the star of a true-crime documentary, we made it through.
So congratulations to the happy couple.
Congratulations to the event team.
Congratulations to the spiders on successfully defending their homeland.
And congratulations to me for not ripping off my pants in front of 150 people and turning a wedding reception into a live-action episode of Survivor: Arachnophobia.
Respectfully,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Bartender
Currently accepting thoughts, prayers, and bar placements that are at least 50 feet from anything with roots.
