Completely Embarrassed

I embarrass myself often. It's a mix of hyper self-awareness and occasional awkwardness. When it happens, I turn this unnatural shade of pink from neck to forehead. Let me tell you about my most recent streak of embarrassing moments...

Saturday, May 22... Dropped drawers
Our friends Brian and Mary got married in a town I’m ironically familiar with. The wedding was a beautiful Catholic ceremony followed by a classically sweet reception. The day was filled with happiness and dancing, and topped off with fireworks. It all started that morning with a long drive from New Jersey to Pennsylvania. Pete and I carpooled with his childhood pal, Greg. Running a bit late, we knew we didn’t have time to make it to the hotel first so we decided to pull off at a gas station to change into our wedding attire. Like a grown up, I went inside to change in the ladies' room. When I came out, I see the boys putting their pants on in the parking lot. I’m pretty sure I heard a trucker honk his horn at them.

Monday, May 31... Neighbor snub
Pete’s parents generously let us stay at the family’s shore house for Memorial Day weekend. It was an amazing few days of sleeping in, coffee on the deck, and zero work emails. Monday we spent all day at the beach -- Pete soaking in the sun and me slathered in sunscreen, sheltered by a hat, shaded under an umbrella, and shrouded in a birkah. Anywho, as we lay there with cool sand on our feet, warm sun on our face, music in our ears and in a sort of half-comatose heaven, his neighbor walks up to us. I recognize her only by her gignormous bubbies. I mean, big. Pete fails to compute what’s happening and totally ignores her. I freeze in the moment and she ends up walking off. Oops. Double oops because we knew we would both see her the next weekend at his sister’s wedding.

Saturday, June 5... Wedding crash fail
Becky and Mike’s wedding was a gorgeous affair. The cathedral was breathtaking and the reception was heaped with food and love. And, well.. alcohol too. We even managed to redeem ourselves with the neighbor. By the end of the night, Pete, Johnny, Tara and I were the final guests. We responsibly called a cab to go home and then waited. And, waited some more. In our giddy states, we decided to kill some time at the wedding next door. It was only a few minutes later when we were politely asked to wait for our cab outside.

Monday, June 14... Breakdancing mommas
The next weekend I made a spontaneous trip home to Sugar Land. It was a humidity fest, kid-packed family extravaganza. I even turned my party crashing record around by making an unexpected appearance at Oliver's 2nd birthday. I have the best family on the planet and the trip went entirely too quickly. On the way home, I was squashed into the tiniest, middle seat in the history of coach. To distract me from the awkwardness of being three inches from a stranger in all directions, I was killing time by reviewing sweepstakes entries for a Cheerios promotion. As I read one Nebraska woman’s entry about her neighborhood breakdancing club, I could feel the eavesdropping eyes of the guy next to me. He had some boring, but respectable job in oil lubricants that I felt obligated to ask him about. Then, I had to tell him that I get paid to sell cereal to 40 something hip hop moms.

Sunday, June 20… The kicker
I started feeling queasy Saturday evening. Pete was off at Moby Dick Fantasy Camp and I was scheduled to fly out to Chicago the next day. I woke up a little sickly, but decided that I felt good enough to travel so I headed to the airport. I sat at the gate and the nausea continued to ebb and flow. I put my head as close as I could to my knees without calling attention to myself. When they started boarding, I decided that my strategy would be to let everyone get on the plane and then I would walk up last. As I handed the attendant my ticket, the room began to spin. It got really quiet and everything began to look like a pointillism painting. I felt like I was yelling, but in reality I probably just whispered that I needed help. Then I was on the ground. Every pore on my body opened up and I started sweating. I could hear the woman talking to me, but I couldn’t answer. I was horrified and nauseous and scared all in one breath. I could hear them calling the medics and feel her tying my hair back. Then suddenly, I found myself being directed onto the plane, in my seat, and on the way to Chicago. I suppose passing out in the gateway is not grounds for pulling someone off a flight. As soon as I sat down, I passed out and slept the entire two-hour trip. I was terrified that it would happen again when I stood up. But, somehow I made it to a cab and to my hotel. In case you're wondering, my stomach made a full recovery in Chicago. However, my pride is still healing.