Got that right! Our wedding (me & Deb, current wife) was a small family affair in a local swank-back-in-the-1950s-but-past-peak hotel. We had booked a meeting room for the reception and the balcony just off it for the wedding itself, looking over the ballroom. It was perfect because the ballroom was going to be closed that week for repairs.
Alas, it turned out that “repairs” included a complete refinishing of the dance floor the day before. The morning of our wedding, we were greeted with eye-watering stinks from the ballroom below as we set up the balcony for the ceremony. The hotel staff, bless ’em, put up plastic to wall off the balcony from the stink, then set up bubbling vats of citrus and spices. Worked! The wedding smelled like Christmas punch instead of varnish.
We had a couple little kids running around, plus one big kid (me) running with them (“Aunt Debbie, can Unca Chack come ride the elevators with us?” “Sure, honey, just keep him out of trouble, okay?”), so that part was fine.