Some friends and I were talking about our most embarrassing moments recently. We all have them, those times we wish would have never happened but for the funny stories we can tell later…much later…after we’ve recovered from the feeling that we just want to hide our heads in the sand. I’ve got two of those stories. And since I can think of nothing to write about now, here you go…
The first took place when I was 12 years old. My mom, my step-dad, my sister Sissy, and I were in Florida for vacation. One day we went to a water park and ate lunch at the snackbar. I had a hotdog and French fries.
Before I go on, let me give you some tidbits about me:
- I eat a lot of ketchup. Like, a lot, a lot.
- I have a Southern accent. Aside from a brief period before I could really talk when my mom, dad and I lived in Upstate New York and Pennsylvania, I’ve lived all my life in Virginia and North Carolina.
- I talk REALLY fast. Paired with the Southern accent, it’s like I’m speaking a whole other language.
- When I get nervous, I talk even faster than I normally do.
- I was a very shy youngster.
Okay, back to our regularly scheduled story…
So, there I was sitting with my family at a table at a water park snackbar, and I picked up a packet of ketchup to squirt onto my hotdog. I always squeeze the packets a few times to make sure I don’t get any watery stuff squirting out and ruining my food – yuck! This time when I squeezey-mixed my ketchup packet, there must have been a hole in it which allowed the ketchup to squirt out, fly to a table near ours, and land on the back of this teenaged Adonis. My mom handed me a couple of napkins and told me to go over to him with the napkins, tell him what I did, and offer to wipe it off for him. What? WHAT?? I mean, she might as well have told this shy 12 year-old girl to, god, I don’t know, offer to wipe ketchup off a gorgeous 17 year-old guy’s back!!
I tried to get her to do it. I begged for my step-dad to do it. But, it was left to me. I pushed my chair away from the table, picked up the napkins, and death-marched over to the other table. Four pairs of eyes looked up at me: a mom, a dad, a sister, and her stunning brother with curly dark hair and big brown eyes.
Then this from me, while I gesticulated wildly with the napkins towards his back:
Or for those of you that don’t speak really fast Southernish: I accidentally squirted ketchup on your back. Here are some napkins. Would you like me to wipe it off for you?
As if I wasn’t already horrified enough, this Greek-god-looking young man looked up at me with his lovely brown eyes and asked me the following question: ¿Qué?
I sighed and looked back at my mom, who, not knowing exactly what was going on, did the motherly wavey thing with her hand that means “Get on with it” to anyone who sees it. So, I turned back around and did and said the exact same thing again! This time, the pulchritudinous dude’s sister followed my wildly gesticulating napkin-holding hand, saw the ketchup on her brother’s back, and started laughing. She took the napkins from me, patted me on the shoulder, and said, “Gracias.”
I hightailed it back over to my family’s table. Red as a beet.
That was story number one. Stay tuned for story two, which will contain slightly adultish embarrassment. Hmmmm. Piqued your interest?