We all have one.
What seemed like the end of the world eventually became a funny story, so in the end it's all good. Because I was 13, bereft of the battle-hardened edge required to shrug off the unimportant, it seemed catastrophic. Looking back, it really was a tiny little bump; I wish I could travel in time to laugh along with my schoolmates who witnessed my minor tragedy.
Everything was New
Miami was home up to the age of 12. Key Biscayne, to be exact. My parents toiled hard and long hours to ensure home was a safe haven for their three boys. And after my older brother was mugged at the mainland high school, we all attended private schools. My older brother left home for a private boarding high school, and my twin brother and I attended a small private school in Miami.
Time moved on, and once he had graduated from the boarding school, my older brother returned to Miami and my twin and I were sent to boarding school. I was used to isolation living on an island - there were certain things we just didn't have, such as a movie theater. Or McDonalds. But going to boarding school was a different kind of isolation. Situated across the country, in Oregon, it was far removed from city life, in a former monastery of all places. I was fascinated by the well preserved stained glass in the chapel and the lush greenery everywhere. Valleys covered in a sea of fog in the mornings, deer on the lawn. But I digress.
Life was different. Everything was new. The only person I actually knew was my own twin brother. He did most of the talking, and I was the quiet one. Year later, one of the faculty actually mentioned how quiet I had been at the time, my silence made such an impression on him. "Fred," I very seriously replied, "I would have said the same thing as my brother anyway!" It's true, too.
The Fateful Friday Dress Up Day
Anyway, we had all new clothes, especially for Friday Dress Up Day. Fridays required the use of ties, slacks and nice dress shoes. My days of running around in nothing but shorts and maybe flip flops (hey, I was on an island...) were over. I had been at the boarding school for about 3 months when the fateful Most Embarrassing Moment took place. It was Friday, of course, so I was dressed well and I was LATE. Breakfast was wrapping up, and all I could think of was food, I was so hungry.
A well-loaded buffet line later, with 15 minutes to eat and ascend 5 flights of stairs to the classroom, I piled food high on my industrial strength, baby-crap brown tray. A plate of scrambled eggs, 2 fried eggs, fresh-bread toast, homemade granola, breakfast potatoes, orange juice and a glass of milk. I was really looking forward to eating, even if it meant wolfing it down with zero style.
Of all the rooms at the school, the dining hall was the largest. It could comfortably seat several hundred staff and students, who all ate together for the most part. Mornings usually saw a light crowd, so there were perhaps about 75 people wrapping up their meal. Including a gal I was enamored with, Sarah. Ah, Sarah. I hadn't even had the guts to say hi to her in the 3 months I had been at the school. One day perhaps.
Lost in my reverie as I left the buffet line, I barely noticed the rather large wet patch on the floor, still lingering from the previous night's mopping. Too lazy to walk around it, and too hungry to think straight, I determined the first fatal move:
"I'll just make sure to step firmly."
John Travolta would have been proud. Maybe Jackie Chan too.
In a single fluid motion, my first "firm" step resulted in a simultaneous vaulting of my food tray straight out in front of me, while my right leg shot forward trying to catch up with the tray. Managing to catch myself with my hands, I was suddenly looking up at the ceiling in utter confused silence. My dramatic dance move shocked the entire hall into silence. Well, except for Sarah.
My secret love burst out into the loudest laugh (cackle might be a better word) I ever heard, then or since, silenced only by the glare of Really Scary Tall Faculty Guy (thank you, Scary Guy!). Not to be outdone, the only other noise that absolutely refused to be silenced was a single, ugly cafeteria tumbler. You know the kind. Tall, angry red and sort of oddly opaque, it's outstanding feature is an ability take a pounding. Frozen upside down wishing I was on another planet (preferably one without an atmosphere), that stupid cup loudly danced on the terrazzo floor, seemingly broadcasting my name as it erratically tap-danced it's way across the room.
Miraculously, all inhabitants of the room were unscathed by my impromptu performance.
Since I had yet to vanish into thin air (not for lack of hoping), I pulled myself up and confronted the situation. Sprawled in front of me lay 8 feet of liquid goo punctuated with bit of scrambled eggs and very confused granola. Somehow only 5 minutes had passed. There was a remote chance I could clean this all up and still eat something. Nothing like a stomach to set your mind to the task at hand and provide motivation.
Ted in the kitchen stared at me blankly, meeting my request for a broom with a silent finger pointing to a mop and a bucket of dirty water. I had never even seen one of these yellow contraptions before, and certainly never used one. I raggedly pushed it out in front of me using the mop handle as leverage. Just when I thought my disaster was nearly over, the mop bucket unceremoniously pivoted (it was missing a wheel) and dumped it's entire contents right at ground zero.
With my Breaking Point fast approaching, and my stomach having renewed it's efforts to tie itself into a knot, I told Ted flat out I wasn't going to clean the mess because I had to get to class. Or maybe he took pity on me and offered to clean it up for me, I kind of blacked that part out. My twin had gotten me another plate of food, but for some perverse reason had placed it so that ground zero was between me and the bussing room.
Down to 4 minutes to get up 5 flights of stairs. A single tear threatening to trail down my cheek, I gave up on my stomach. Gripping the new tray, my white knuckles and I skirted the disaster zone to make it to the bus room and out of the nightmare. Any remaining staff and students studied my every move, waiting for a repeat performance as I gingerly retraced my path out of the dining hall. Passing over the fringe of the Inescapable Wet Patch (was it getting even bigger?), my foot jerked ever so slightly but this time didn't fail me. Dumping my tray properly, I leapt up the stairs to class, breathlessly wondering if I would make it to the end of the day alive.
And then that day was gone. I seem to be the only one who actually remembers it, burned as it is into the darker corners of my mind. Every now and then (usually after some wine) I let it out and reminisce about the good old days, and share a laugh with friends. It broke my parents hearts to send us away so young, but those were my favorite years as a child, in their own way. I went on to be a singer, violist and actor, unafraid of the stage. After all, I had surely survived the worst moment of my life already.
Never did forget Sarah. I can still hear her laughter reminding me things are never as bad as they seem.
What's your most embarrassing moment?
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