Adieu, I Do

I think there was something in the water this summer. Every weekend, it seemed, was some one's wedding, engagement, bridal shower, or rehearsal dinner. No matter which direction I looked, it was wedding, wedding, wedding.

Speaking of weddings, I received a proposal.

Yes, the marriage kind!

When am I getting married? Well, there's a few complications.

Complications? For starters, I need to know his name.

No, I don't know his name. It happened so quickly.

No! I didn't meet him on some random dating website. Just listen...

Look, do you want to hear the story or not?


Okay then. So a few years ago my sister, Johnny Cherie, gave me a paper weight for my birthday. It looks just like a solitaire engagement ring. I took it to work and it proved to be a great conversation starter. One weekend, one of the office suites next to us had an attempted robbery. The county sent over two police men to check for damage. Since our office shares a back hallway with our neighbors, the cops came to our suite as well. I assured them that we had looked through the office and nothing was damaged or missing. As the cops turned to leave, the ring caught the attention of one officer.

"Wow, that's a nice ring!"
"It is, thank you. I'm just waiting for the guy that comes with it."

To my surprise, he picked up the ring, dropped to one knee, and proposed.


I was speechless.

I usually have, as the name suggests, a lotta thoughts sprinting through my mind but at that moment, I had absolutely no thought, no idea, and no clue how to respond.

So I blushed.

And he laughed. He put the ring back on my desk and walked out. Out of the office and out of my life.

Um, Mr. Officer? Hello? Were you serious? Hello? "I do." Can you hear me? Mr. Officer?

...adieu.

Dancing Around The Truth

Work like you don't need money,
Love like you've never been hurt,
And dance like no one's watching.


Dance like no one’s watching.


Back in my college days, I didn’t think I was busy enough so I joined the Student Activity Association. One of the events I helped plan included a homecoming dance. Homecoming didn’t consist of just one dance venue. Friday and Saturday each had several locations students could attend. One of the perks of helping the committee included tickets to any venue. My friend, Jorj, and I each received a pair. We decided to go to one location on Friday using my set and another location on Saturday using his tickets.

I dressed to the nines on Friday. I wore a purple dress that flowed when I twirled. I spun so much that the strap shoes I’d worn began to cut my feet. I told Jorj that I was dressing down for the dance the following night. I didn’t need more blisters. Saturday I wore a classic black skirt, a loosely knitted pale blue top, and flip flops.

The venue we chose for Saturday was a two story museum converted into a dance hall. The top floor was decorated in crazy colors and lit with a black light. The room was reserved for upbeat music and the latest Top 20. The ground floor - the subdued floor - played slower, more romantic songs and invited couples to linger longer in the dim light.

Jorj and I were casual friends and the ground level bored us so we ventured upstairs to dance to faster tempos. I found a spot and we began to boogie.

Let me explain one fact: While I enjoy dancing, I’m not great at it. My sisters always mocked my dancing style when I was younger but nothing they said ever stopped me from trying.

This being said, I wasn't surprised to see some of the dancers in the room looking my direction. I know I look funny when I dance but must they really stare at me? I let Jorj know we were being watched. I suggested we try some dance moves since we had an audience. Now they are smiling. Why don’t they stop looking at us? Rude!

"Look Charlotte, we are glowing."
"I know. It's because of the black light."
Duh Jorj. Have you never stood near a black light before?!
"We are white."
"Yes. Your shirt is and I'm sure my teeth are glowing."
What a silly conversation. And why are those other people still looking at us. My dancing is funny but I don't appreciate their giggles.
"You are glowing too."
"Well, not as much as you. I'm not wearing anything white. Oh, but my nails are white!"
Jorj, change the subject already!
"You are glowing Charlotte."
What is he getting at?!
"Jorj, I'm wearing black and bluu..."

I glanced down and froze. Black light. White bra. Loosely knitted top.

Yes, I was glowing. The stares from the other dancers suddenly made sense. I clutched the small amount of dignity I still had and ran from the room.

"JORJ! My bra is glowing! Why didn't you say something?!"
"I was trying. It's not your average conversation. I didn't know what to say."
"You say, "YOUR BRA IS GLOWING!"
"Okay, then. Charlotte, your bra was glowing."
"Thaaanks. And I'm going to need your jacket the rest of the evening."


Blistered feet and a glowing bra ~ I hope to never have a more memorable homecoming.

Flashback to Reality

Night school will put a damper on your social life. Not only have I neglected friends and family, I missed the final episodes of The Office, Lost, American Idol, and The Bachelor. While this doesn't bother me now, I was a reality show junkie several years ago. I learned business strategy with The Apprentice. I found courage to sing out loud with American Idol. I cringed during Fear Factor.

...and I fell in love every season with The Bachelor. In spring of 2004, a football player by the name of Jesse Palmer won my heart. I didn't receive the final rose but we bonded. Uh, well, kind of...

Journal Entry dated April 20, 2004

Yesterday I came home from work sick at 2:30. I feel asleep from 3-6:30. And this is how I know I am way too addicted to reality shows...The Bachelor especially. Since I was sick when I went to sleep, in my dream I was sick also. In my dream, I was a contestant on The Bachelor. I missed the rose ceremony because I was sick and couldn't get out of bed. When I woke up (in my dream), Jesse had placed a bouquet of roses by my door inviting me to stay for the next round.

Jesse, whatdaya say we give our love another go around. I finish school next Thursday. You free on Friday? I can even pretend to like football.

Hello?

Jesse?

3rd Time's the Charm

I love pickup lines. I'm not sure when, where, or how I developed this bond with cheesy sayings but I enjoy any chance to learn or use these silly lines. Johnny-Cherie came home the other night and shared a new pick up line with me. I laughed and decided to try the saying on some friends.

The next day I was online chatting and, although pickup lines don't even work in person, I decided to try some virtual flirting with Scottie-the-Hottie.

Me: Scott, do you have a raisin?
STH: Yes
Me: ...wrong answer.
STH: I don't like raisins...?
Me: Do you actually have raisins with you at this exact moment?
STH: As part of a larger food product, yes.
Me: You have grapes?
STH: No, I have a granola bar with raisins. This is a really long pick up line sequence.
Me: Never mind.

Later, I tried the same line on another friend and got similar results.

Me: Friend, do you have a raisin?
Friend yet to receive a blog nickname: Yes I do.
Me: hmm...that's the wrong answer.
Nameless friend: Ok. No, I don't.
Me: *sigh

I tried the line for the third time with Mr. Reynolds.

Me: Mr. Reynolds, do you have a raisin?
Tinfoil Guy: Not anywhere near me.
Me: Oh good...how about a date?

I learned a valuable lesson with pickup lines: They don't work via online chat. Pickup lines don't work in person...but we already knew that.

Hyponatremia

I introduced you to G.A.B. on Monday. The instructions said my boyfriend would grow if fully submerged in water. Being a sweet girlfriend, I placed Gabby in the tub one evening while I ran some errands. I came back a few hours later - not much had changed. That's when I realized the process took 3 - 10 days. I relocated Gabby to a vase - hoping the same vase would later be filled with flowers from him as a token of reciprocated love.

Thursday passed.

Friday passed.

Saturday was Day 4. Gabby was looking great. I took some time that morning to talk with and learn more about him. I discovered his great grandfather, Bubba Licious, was from Texas - so we talked about that awhile. Unfortunately for us, I had to cut the conversation short. I had plans to spend the day in Atlanta and knew he needed more time to soak. I said goodbye and plunked him back in the vase. I reminded him that I would be home later in the evening and insisted we take some photos together.

*sniff

If only I'd known that drinking was still a temptation. If only I'd known he'd barely been 'on the wagon' since November. If only I'd known he hadn't been attending his H2O Anonymous meetings...

Hi honey, I'm home!

Honey, did you hear me? Hello?

Gabby?

GABBY?!?!?

G.A.B.
February 2008
May he Rest In Pieces

G.A.B.

Hmmm, what's this?

It's a birthday present to me from Little Boy Blue.
Yes...we do have wrapping paper. I guess he just didn't want to use any.

It's something red. It looks like a little man.
A 'Grow a Boyfriend' to be exact ~ G.A.B. for short. Oh, and he is short.

Real funny. Reeeeeeeallllll funny.


Mm hmm. Just as funny as the 'Grow a Bling' Julia Gulia gave me a few years ago.


Family, is my birthday a joke to you?

Honestly, it's like I'm the only serious one around here.

Mmmffpphfftt.......

*to be continued...

In Love

Julia-Gulia and I enjoyed a quick road trip to Charleston, South Carolina this weekend. I've been there before but wanted JG to visit at least once before she leaves again for school in January. We were able to enjoy some shopping, the coast, a break from home obligations, and even the cool, windy weather.

Oh, I forgot to tell you one major detail. I met the man of my dreams! He's tall - a must if I continue to wear boots, dark - bronze from the sun, and handsome. He very strong - his muscles are rock hard. He loves to travel - mostly by sea, and is very outdoorsy. He is fond of pets - especially parrots. He is rich and has a great eye for hoop earrings made of gold. Oh, speaking of great eyes, his are blue, though he has bad eyesight. I also have poor eyes so our future children are doomed but I'm fortunate my eyes aren't as bad as his - he usually requires an eye patch.

We just clicked. I can't explain it. Words weren't needed. I could tell by the way he looked at me that we were meant to be.

I found out he owns his own ship so I'm sure I'll document our vacations on this blog in the recent future.

Hey, hands off sista!

Miss Taken

Miss Taken or Mistaken. I'm not sure which is most correct.

You see, I found out I'm married. Yes, yes, I have taken the plunge and I'm married. It all started so innocently. I was there. He was there. There was music and dancing. He asked for my hand and I took it. The music overcame me and I found myself winding round and round, in and out, twisting and turning. Oblivious to any spectators, I threw inhibitions to the wind and tossed my head back. When the music ended, I was informed I had just performed the marriage dance.

Oh.

Um...meet Miss-Taken and Chief-Contestant-So-You-Think-You-Can-Dance.

And here's my new sister in law Tiger Lily. She kept saying something about her friend Peter and never wanting to grow up. Not sure what that was all about.

One Makes all the Difference

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Doug is our newest coworker. I learned this week that he married a foreigner. I figured it out when I answered the phone and had a difficult time understanding her. Living in the South – although cultivating me on new food, phrases, and "slow talkers" - has not allowed me much interaction with other cultures or accents especially outside the country. After Doug got off the phone, he informed me she is Scottish.

Later in the afternoon, I was trying to explain her background to Jordan and Mark. I attempted by saying, “She is from Scotland, so she isn’t a Native American…ummm, and neither am I for that matter.”

I meant to say a native of America.

One word in the middle of a two.

One word would have made all the difference.

One.

One vs Two.

Single vs Married.

The next time anyone gives me grief about being single, I’ll have to point out just how important One is.

I’m One.

And that makes all the difference...somehow.

It's All Relative

Several years ago, a buddy of mine somehow got his hands on two All-Access Opening Night Sundance Film Festival tickets. I wasn't privy to any details concerning how he acquired the tickets for free so I can only assume he was part of some underground Utah mafia. Anyway, he invited me to join him and gave me a rundown of what to expect.

* The tickets gave us access to dinner served on the top floor of the venue.
* Robert Redford would be there.
* I needed to dress nice and act dignified.
* Many city officials would also be in attendance.

The night arrived and I dressed in one of my best outfits. I wore a floor length black skirt with a form fitting V-necked burgundy striped shirt. I accented the V-neck with a silver necklace and square black pendant. I did my best to mingle with all the socialites. I met some individuals in high positions: city government, state government, and school board executives. Although I was able to relate with most of the guests, it was clearly obvious that this elite class wasn't what I'd grown up in.

One of my favorite conversations was with a city official. She and I were enjoying some delicious food with names I couldn't remember let alone pronounce when she noticed my necklace. She let out an audible sigh then said, "I adore your necklace. It looks like onyx and I just love that stone. Tell me, is it 'Tiffany's'?"

Conversation hit a slight bump as I replied, ""Ah...no. It's her younger sister, Claire's."

Sigh - I don't fit in.

At least the movie was good.

My Date with a "Ted Bundy"

The date was May 10, 2004. It was a beautiful summer day in Utah with incredible winds. I was halfway home on the freeway when I heard a noise. It was as if I’d run over something but when I looked in the rear view mirror I didn’t see anything. The wind picked up speed. My car rocked back and forth wielded by the wind. I was ready to get home and relax…a fleeting thought. I smelled burning rubber. Again I looked in the rear view but this time watched a piece of tire chunk fling from my car. I immediately pulled over to find my tire hanging on by shreds.


I popped my trunk and slowly got the tools necessary to change my tire. Several cars zoomed by and I wondered if anyone would pull over to help. Although I had just come from the gym and was covered in glisten, I was beginning to doubt I had any sort of “damsel in distress” influence. I jacked up the car and was about to take the ruined tire off when an Audi pulled over and backed up. Finally, someone to just keep me company and help in case I need it.

Even more company arrived. A police man pulled over to insure I was okay. The Audi Man had started taking off the lug nuts by slowly, manually turning the wrench. I stopped relaying the situation to the cop long enough to bend down and show Audi Man a better way of twisting the tool so the wrench didn’t have to be removed every half-turn. When I looked back at the cop, he laughed and told Audi Man, “She’s totally right. Looks like she knows what she’s doing.” The cop stayed long enough for us to get the spare started; then he was gone.

After the tires were swapped, I gathered the tools to the trunk and slammed the lid to see Audi Man leaning on the driver’s door with his elbow. He cocked his head to the side and casually asked, “So, whatter yer plans tonight?”

Uh…um…well…I was going to go home and eat some dinner. Maybe watch an episode of Seinfeld.

How’s about you and I catch something to eat then.

Uh…um…well, I need to shower first.

No problem. I’ll pick you up in an hour. What’s your address?

Too stunned to think clearly, I gave him my address. Five minutes later and home, I realized the stupid mistake I'd just made. A random stranger had my address and would be by to pick me up at 7. I felt sick. Worried sick. When he knocked, I barely cracked the door and yelled to my roommate that I would be back later. He didn’t need to know she wasn’t home. I just wanted him to realize I would be missed if he didn’t bring me back.

I got in the car and he began talking. He told me about the construction company he had worked for and spent several minutes pointing out different buildings he'd helped erect. I turned from Chatty Charlotte to One-Word-Girl. I hardly spoke. I didn’t want him to know anything about me. During a silent moment I happened to look in the back seat and saw Dr. Laura’s book The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands. This book was popular among some of my female friends but I couldn’t see why he would need a book about husbands. I asked if it was his. He exclaimed, “Yes! I bought it and read it all the way through. The parts that specifically pertain to me are highlighted. That way when I get engaged, all my future fiancé has to do is read the book and pay particular attention to the parts I’ve colored. In fact, read this...” He opened the book to a particular page and asked me to read aloud a certain section.

“Men are really easy to understand. They want one of two things. If he isn't horny, make him a sandwich.”

I closed the book, paused, and said, “Well, it’s a good thing we are going to dinner.” He laughed and said I was witty. I was done. Audi Man was Outta Chances. I tried not to smile or laugh or talk the rest of the evening. And I still couldn’t get him to take me home. He wanted to take me to his place and show me his dog. I told him I hated dogs. He wanted to show me an episode of Seinfeld on his flat screen tv. I said I wasn’t interested. He wanted to call me. I wouldn’t give him my number. I wanted to go home. He wanted to drive around more.

I finally got him to take me home when I mentioned it was my sister’s birthday. I needed to call her still and if it wasn’t for that fact, I don't know when he would have brought me back. When I relayed the story to my parents I knew I'd been protected. My parents were glad I was safe. Aside from that night, I can't think of any time when my parents have called me names. That night though, my dad was completely correct when he called me an idiot.

If I had a garden...

...I'd plant my tulips next to yours.

I was the pickup queen in college. I actually kept a notebook of my favorites. A fun ploy of mine was to engage a guy in conversation then just break out a pickup line. I wasn't ever serious; just thought it was fun to jazz up the conversation. One catch: I could say the lines to any guy except my current crush.

To pay for college, I worked at the BYU Creamery. During the three years+ of employment, I worked my way from Ice-Cream-Scooper-Peon to Student-Manager. One of my favorite duties was manning the register. One week, I had a crush on a particular regular named Steve. He came in to buy his standard donut-and-milk special and was next in my line. Without thinking, I said, "I'm ready to check you out now." His eyebrow raised and he deliberately responded, "Oh are you now..."

For once the table was turned on me. I didn't know how to respond and I felt my face turn the shade of strawberry ice cream. I guess this gave him the encouragement he sought because he asked me out the next week. Each time he came through my line after that, I tried a different line just for kicks. I purposely found the cheesiest types around.

"Is your daddy a baker? Cus you got a nice set of buns."
"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together."
"Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?"
"Are your legs tired? Cus you've been running through my mind all day!"

You get the point. Any favorites you want to share?

Nice while it lasted

Well, it's back to being single again. JFK and I just didn't have what it takes to last. *Sigh.

So what does it take to make it last? I'll tell you. Actually, I'll let a younger version of me tell you. Looking through my journal I found a letter to myself. You may think that's silly but the silliest part is it's not my first letter to myself nor the last. It's the best way I have found to make and keep goals. If I write myself a letter to open on a particular date, I not only want to achieve those goals but I get to read a funny note in the end. I have chosen leap year as my goal mark. So...stay tuned next February for those goals! In the meantime, this is a letter I wrote to myself "to be opened on my 25th birthday or when I marry - whichever comes first". So, on my 25th birthday I read:


April 13, 2000

Hey cutie, I love how I addressed myself,
How are you? Fine, thanks. So how much have we improved in this short span? I really hope you are still working on your procrastination problem. Right now I am in the library where I'm supposed to be working on my old testament. I guess some things never change. Nope. I'm writing this blog and should be in bed. I guess I should do this like a new year resolution and just go through different areas. ...ROMANCE: Well, I'm not married yet, but I am well on my way to getting there...Oh really. Do go on. In having 2 flings recently, I learned a lot. I need to be honest with myself and him regarding my feelings. I can't hold out and expect him to do all the work. He should be my best friend, someone I can trust with anything; someone, who even if they laugh at something stupid I do, (or vice versa) that it is out of love and not to offend; a person who can tolerate my imperfections yet at the same time help me to improve. Shoot, if I'm going to be with this person for for-eva, he better be good looking. Either that, or EVERY kiss will be with my eyes shut! You tell it sister! I want someone who respects me and treats me so. A little prank here and there is fine but no demeaning junk. Me? Pranks? I need someone who will walk beside me as we start a family, experience job changes, teenagers, church responsibilities, family deaths, financial problems, whoa girl...stop predicting this stuff, etc.

If I could have any physical trait, (and sorry honey if you don't live up to my 21 year-old futuristic views) and honey, I hope you don't mind that I called you honey even though I don't know who you are, I really like:
Tall - as in 6 ft and higher.
Musical - Love the guitar or piano. VOICE!
Outgoing - Not a social dork! love the description
Outdoorsy - I can't camp by myself.
Clean - I refuse to be a maid.
Funny - Not looking! Come on now.
Sporty - gotta get those muscles somewhere. Wow, and apparently I had no shame in admitting shallowness when it comes to physical traits.
And ready for an adventure.
Above all, religious.

Hon, I'm back to calling myself hon now, keep up the great work. Yes ma'am. Love Charlotte.


So there you have it. You heard it from me. Kinda. Several years ago. But now. uhhh never-mind...

It's Official Today!

Today I am officially engaged!
The official picture of me and JFK.

The official ring. Isn't it just...something!

JFK, in the garden of life, you are my pansy; the oil spot in my driveway; the mushed banana in my bread.

The wedding is planned exactly one year from today. I've picked out a reception hall with leopard print wall paper and lace chairs...the classiest around. Don't forget the date 4.01.08 - can I put you down as a yes?

A moving experience

This weekend I had the rare opportunity to go on a date with my sister's boyfriend. Yep, you read that right. While Julia Gulia is out in Idaho getting a degree, her boyfriend Chubs is here in Athens. Someone has to keep him company...might as well stay in the family. Two weeks ago Chubs sent me a text telling me to keep my Saturday open. He had an evening of fun planned that included dinner and "a glimpse into his past". I probed for clues the following week but all I could get out of Chubs, Julia Gulia, or Mama Mia was that I should dress up, come hungry, and bring a camera.

Turns out Chubs' past life includes blue sequined vests. He was in a show choir during high school and was asked to emcee the performance this weekend. I enjoyed several musical numbers. There were songs from Grease, The Producers, Wicked, Chicago, and Les Mes. I really enjoyed the costumes, choreography, and different styles of singing.

I wish my contact would quit sticking to my eye. I'll just rub it real quick.

Chubs did a great job entertaining the crowd. He, along with another former classmate, introduced the songs, handed out door prizes, and kept the program running smoothly. In between announcing acts, Chubs would return to his seat next to me to make sure I was enjoying myself.

Man my eye itches. What is wrong?

The program was nearing the end. Only a few more songs left.

Is that cat hair all over my pants? Oh no. These are the pants I wore over to Kathleen's apartment the other day. Her cat sat in my lap...and I'm allergic to cat hair.

The final song, Letting Go from Jekyll and Hyde, started. The entire group assembled at the front of the room. The members had changed out of their glitzy outfits and were all wearing black dresses or suits. At one point during the song, the members walked from the stage out into the audience. Each member was holding a rose and at a particular point in the song, handed it to their mother before returning to center stage.

I wish my eye would stop itching. It's starting to water. This is ridiculous!

Chubs and I happened to share a table with one of the mothers receiving a rose. The emotions were strong in the room. Many of the mothers were crying as they accepted the roses from their child. Chubs looked at me to see my reaction. Here I am, rubbing one eye as tears fall uncontrollably.

"I'm allergic to my pants!"
(Laughing) Sure Charika. It's okay...you can cry if you need to.
"No really...it's my pants."

Chubs was right. I learned a little bit about his past. In fact, I think we both learned something. I learned Chubs used to wear sequins and he learned I'm crazy.

Nickname Nightmare

I have a crush on someone.

Don’t worry, I’ll get over it soon enough. Ask any of my college roommates. It got to the point where I had more crushes on guys than weeks in the year. Fall of my sophomore year, I sat down and listed all the boys I had crushed on during my two freshman semesters, the summer, and up to the current school month. The list included 85 guys! Seriously – that’s 1.63 guys per week! My roommates determined I should use a different term. We decided I was intrigued by lots of different boys. A crush is what would develop if the intrigue lasted longer than a week. I liked a boy if we went on a date and I was still intrigued. Dating a boy only happened after there was some hand-holding or lip-locking action. When I moved south to Georgia, someone asked me if I had a cow. Now, just because I grew up in Texas doesn’t mean I own livestock! But that’s not what she meant. A “COW” stands for Crush Of the Week. Ah…yes, I have a COW. Which one are you referring to?

It’s not easy being intrigued with so many boys at once. I guess it’s one of my many talents. Again, me and my humility. Anyway, I was talking to my friend Scottiethehottie and mentioned I liked a boy. He is one of my lucky friends that gets to listen to my rambling stories or occasional blonde moments. As soon as I said “I have a crush on this guy,” I knew he was going to ask for details. I didn’t want to jinx the situation by divulging info so I said that all crushes will remain nameless until boyfriend status is achieved. He said that was fine but that he would just make up his own names for the guys so he wouldn’t get confused.

Oh dear. This could get a little tricky though. I can just see a future conversation with Scottiethehottie:

So I finally kissed Ben last night.
Oh, so you and “Stephen” are dating now.
I thought you called Ben “David”.
Well, “David” is the guy you met at the dance.
Then Ben isn’t “David”. I met Ben at the concert.
Oh, then you are dating “James”.
No…Ben!

So intriguing boy, if I slip up and call you my “$6 burger”, don’t worry, it’s just cause you’re just my COW.

Sssssssssay what?!

I am single.
I go to dances.

Those two statements alone provide endless fodder for my blog. Once a month I go to a Young Single Adult Dance in Atlanta composed primarily of Latter-day Saints. I am not the best dancer there – by far – and the 1.5 hour drive each way usually isn’t too exciting but the dance allows for socializing, networking, and (I hate to admit it) dating opportunities. Of course, there are a few weirdoes that also attend and I thought I'd met them all. There is “the leaner” that, legend has it, leaned into a girl and said he thought she looked like she needed a kiss. She moved away but he has been seen coming out of classrooms with different girls whose hair shows ruffling. There is also “Matrix” who shaves his head and wears his floor-length, black, leather coat the duration of the dance. There is another guy who I’ll just call “True southern boy” who wanted to show me his rifle collection and even gave me directions to his mobile home. (You can’t make these things up!)

This weekend I met a new weirdo though. He was standing maybe 10 feet away motionless except for his fingers. His hand was up like he was about to wave at someone but his fingers moved slowly back and forth like he was twisting an imaginary pencil back and forth from pinky to pointer, pointer to pinky. Never having seen someone wave in such a slow deliberate manner, I walked closer to investigate – and recoiled back once I saw the snake in his hand. Let me take a moment to point out that snakes are not all bad. I have held a fair share of them. However, a dance (or a plane) is neither the place nor time for reptile exhibits so I asked him what he was doing with a snake. He told me he had owned the snake for 7 years; it was his pet. I wondered why he wasn’t getting my point and further asked where he planned on putting the snake during the dance. He said that he would continue to hold it and when he asked girls to dance, he would let them know about the snake on the way to the dance floor.

Now, I like to think that I am a friendly person…when someone talks to me, I engage in conversation. If I need to exit for some reason, I can always find a way out like, “Well, that sounds good” or “Nice seeing you,” but when he told me that, I nodded, raised my eyebrows in silent shock, turned and walked away.

Ssssee ya later!