I went to a private party Saturday night at a popular club here in D.C. When you walked into the main room there were about 3 stairs to walk down to get onto the dance floor and into the main bar area. On the way down the tip of my left boot got caught in my right pant leg. When I tripped my arms went straight out to the sides and I just knew I was about to make an unforgettable entrance into this party. But I saved it. I have no idea how, but I did. There were so many people there and everyone would have been able to see my flying leap down the stairs had someone gracious and powerful not spared me what was working up to being the most embarrassing moment of my life.
But since I didn’t get a new most embarrassing moment, I’ll tell you about the reigning one. I used to be a part of a youth ministry that actually did some pretty good things in the community. We organized a clothing drive at RFK Stadium (the real home of the Redskins) on Saturday afternoon. It was a pretty big deal. A local radio station came out and broadcast from the event. Many of the people in the community came out and got some really nice things for absolutely free. (I can’t tell you how hard it was to resist setting a couple of designer outfits with the tags still on aside for myself. I resisted. For the most part.)
Anyway, my job was to secure the venue. To do so I needed to meet with the head of the facilities department to request a permit to have the events on the grounds. The meeting had been scheduled for weeks and this was the most significant “meeting” I had ever really had in my 21 or so years. It was in the heat of July, so I was careful to pick the right outfit and make sure my hair was just right and everything else in place before I left. My bangs were not cooperating, so I threw one roller in them to make sure that by the time of the meeting every hair fell just perfectly.
I got to the stadium and met with Mr. Brown. Everything went splendidly. He was very supportive of our event and gladly passed me a contract to sign. We hammered out all of the details regarding times, power supply, permits, etc. He was a really nice guy. We joked about quite a few things (I can’t remember what now) and then he walked me to my car. I was supposed to call him back with one detail I couldn’t answer during the meeting, so I assured him that I’d get back to him before close of business.
I got in the car and breathed a sigh of relief, because this event all hinged on this permit. This guy could make or break our event and it was up to me to convince him to let these kids to put on their “do-gooder” production in the stadium parking lot. I managed and I was both proud and relieved. When I got home I ran upstairs to my bedroom and picked up the phone to call my boyfriend at the time (ministry director and yes, the ex) to tell him the good news. While I was talking to him something in the mirror caught my eye. Something about my reflection that was just not right. In fact, it was yellow. Bright yellow. A bright yellow HAIR ROLLER. The damn roller was still in my hair. I had completely forgotten to take it out so that the bangs could fall just right. I wanted to die!!!!
What was worse was that I still needed to call Mr. Brown back. I think he called me before I could get up the nerve to call him. We settled whatever the remaining issue was and…. oh, I remember what we were joking about now… We were joking about him wanting to meet a representative from our organization face to face because he has had too many “ghetto” events and he wasn’t looking forward to another one. Well, when we finished our business I asked him how and why he didn’t bother to mention that I had a FREAKING ROLLER in my hair, especially with all the conversation about ghetto-ness!! He laughed and said that he thought it was cute. I did not!! I’m so glad he had a sense of humor, but I was mortified.
I’ve yet to top that one.
Wanna share embarrassing moments?