I See Your Embarrassment And Raise You...

I began writing this post a few months ago after a Facebook friend posted the question “What is your most embarrassing memory?”. There were some great responses but I think I got them beat.

I could mention the time I stepped in the wet cement of a pavement under construction in front of what was then Barclays Bank in Broad Street. This prompted the workmen to loudly cuss me as I nonchalantly attempted to cross the street to Cave Shepherd while futilely trying to shake cement off my shoes. My cousin Eric, with whom was walking, hurried ahead so no-one could tell that we were together.

Did I do that??

Or I could tell you of the story that ended with a rastaman suggesting to me that he should get off the car on which he was sitting and perhaps enter one of my mother’s orifices. That happened when I was maybe 13 in front of my closest friends, and 35 years later, if those friends get together, that incident comes up in conversation roughly 33% of the time. One of these friends once wrote a haiku to honour the incident:

Childhood Autumn term

Question of a rastaman

"Get up and go where?"

But I believe my most embarrassing moment occurred when I was in my early 30’s. My girlfriend of the time asked me to drop off a birthday gift for her 3 year old niece. I was to take it to her niece’s birthday party which she couldn’t attend since she was working.

I made my way to my girlfriend’s sister’s apartment which was on the top floor of a 2 story building. I found the apartment in darkness but downstairs was alive with lights, music and activity. Little children were running all around while a few adults were sitting in the patio.

I grabbed the gift which was in a huge gift bag and entered the property through a gate. A little girl that I didn’t know immediately started dancing around me holding her hands out. I just smiled at her and held the gift above my head.

When I reached the patio, a guy said a halting hello and looked at me with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Alison’s boyfriend. I’m just dropping a gift for Chloe.”

He responded with a drawn out “Ok” as I went into the apartment. The little girl was still literally running rings around me as I walked.

I ventured slowly through the apartment looking for someone I knew and started to feel a little nervous about the absence of such. When I reached the kitchen, I found a few women drinking wine. All strangers to me.

One woman greeted me with the identical expression on her face as her male counterpart in the patio. In fact every adult I had encountered so far wore that same expression.

“Is this Chloe’s party?” I asked.

“No,” came the reply followed by a laugh. Which was followed by several other laughs.

I was mortified.

I tried unsuccessfully to teleport to my car, but ended up walking through the party, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. The little girl was now in tears trying to get the gift out of my hands.

I would have paid anything to do this...

When I reached the patio, the man that initially spoke to me smiled and said, “Wrong party, huh?”

“Yeah,” I replied hurriedly, exited the patio and practically ran to my car, leaving behind a chorus of tears from one very disappointed birthday girl.

This remains my most embarrassing moment, but it isn’t lost on me that I could have avoided all of it with a few simple words a few hours earlier:

“Chloe is whose daughter again?”