I recently attended the wedding of a childhood friend, which was as beautiful and perfect an event as she could have asked for -- other than her team of obnoxiously intrusive photographers, who seemed less like wedding professionals and more like freelancers for Sports Illustrated.

They were nothing if not thorough, a company whose mission statement seems to be: While a picture may be worth a thousand words, the word "wedding" requires a thousand photographs.

I'm not someone who photographs well, even when I look my best. They say cameras add 20 pounds -- but in my experience they also add chins, folds and handles. There are very few occasions when I allow even family members to take my picture; most times I hide behind a taller relative or cover my face with anything I can find -- purse, tablecloth, rude gesture. I wince when a well-meaning relative sends a photograph of me. I don't require photos of myself as a memento of anything I do, as much as I value a photo of some detail of scenery. It's usually understood by my family that I'm not in most pictures because I am usually the one taking them. So, the lady with a phobia of cameras goes to the wedding with the vigilante photographers, and hilarity ensues -- or at least some criminally bad shots.

There are certain times during a wedding when you could hear a pin drop, that moment when we are witnessing something almost magical: Two people with the best of intentions, who might be happier in this instant than they will be for the rest of their lives, take a very public leap of faith. Something poignant and awesome happens when a couple breathlessly and sometimes tearfully exchanges vows -- something that goes right out the window when photographers are overzealous.

"I -- clickclickclick -- you to be my lawfully wedded -- clickclickclick."

Something gets lost, but I bet the pictures will be fabulous.

While the reception was held at the lovely Longue Vue Club in Verona, it felt more like a restaurant of paparazzi. At this wedding of about 100 people, I counted seven photographers with telephoto lenses. One guy at our table, who works for the Department of Homeland Security doing something he's not allowed to discuss, said even he wasn't used to this many cameras. I allowed one or two shots to be a good sport, but then it turned ugly. I kept watching the door to see if some celebrity was about to show up -- but, nope, it was all for us.

Every time I laughed, drank, greeted someone or turned the wrong way during the Electric Slide, there was a camera in my face: more attention than I received when I was the bride at my own wedding. When I reflect on my own wedding photography, I'm hardly regretful about not having twenty or so pictures of people with spinach dangling from their mouths. We had one photographer, disposable cameras on all the tables and a videographer, and we are convinced that our day was captured fully and accurately.

At our table, we discussed our dilemma. We were afraid to laugh too loud, smile too wide or be our amusing selves because we knew that at the slightest hint of sincere or interesting behavior we'd be instantly descended upon by a circle of Nikon-wielding sharks. Efforts to reason with, or even just shoo, the photographers were unsuccessful.

"Don't blame us," said one photographer haughtily. "Yell at Kathy and Ryan."

Does Raid make a spray for shutterbugs?

Throughout the evening, we had each dutifully taken a few photos with our table's disposable camera, but with seven shots left, I got what Dr. Seuss might have described as "a wonderful, awful idea." With the support of my table-mates, I turned on the indoor flash and snapped close-ups of the photographers, catching each one at the most inconvenient possible time. They didn't seem as upset as I'd hoped, but they certainly paid less attention to our group for the rest of the night. Table Six had a better time from that point on.

As for Kathy and Ryan, who may still be honeymooning in Hawaii when this shows up in print, I love them both and wish them all the happiness deserved by two wonderful people. Theirs was a beautiful wedding despite it all, and I had great fun being with them and others I hadn't seen in ages. I admit responsibility for the seven inexplicable pictures of their photographers, which might even be overlooked among a thousand other photographs.