Everyone has moments in their past that are embarassing. It's part of the package when you sign up for life.
You never know when these occurences are coming or how bad they'll be. But when they do happen, most people are smart enough to keep those stories tucked away in the confines of their own brain.
But not me.
Somehow, by telling embarrassing stories about ourselves, it reminds us that we're human. We're vulnerable. We aren't perfect.
Today is TMI Thursday hosted by Lilu. This girl has no qualms about telling it all to whomever wishes to listen. And I love it.
Without further ado, below is my first TMI Thursday story. Because, after all, the more embarrassing things you know about me, the better off you can feel about yourself.
Everyone's a winner.
I traveled for work (back when I was employed). It came with the job. Generally, during those travels, I was expected to take clients out and entertain. We would have lunch or dinner and a few cocktails. Usually, the evenings were calm, reserved and lovely.
Once in awhile though, things went so very, very wrong.
One evening I met two of my fave clients for dinner. H and J are two young, amazing women that always know how to have a good time. We decided to meet out at a little bistro. Delicious Hummus, fragrant wine, amazing conversation.
The problem is, I have not yet figured out how many glasses of wine I can realistically consume before turning into a stumbling, blubbering, loud-mouthed retard.
(Granted, it would probably help if I counted how many glasses I drink as I order them...but that takes work.)
Generally, I just drink until the conversation dries up. Which is fine if you're out with boring people.
Not so good if the conversation never ends.
On this particular night, H and I ended up talking and enjoying each other's company for many hours. When the night finally ended and I stood up to leave, I discovered the innocent restaurant floor had turned into a treacherous rocky path with unsafe holes and land mines.
(Or at least you would think it had by the way I was walking.)
I eventually made it out to my vehicle while patrons back in the restaurant gossiped about me and wondered how far I would get.
I sat in the driver's seat - and discovered my car had grown a second steering wheel.
Clearly I would not be driving anytime soon. I called Hubs who did his best not to scream at me. I told him I was going to try and sleep in the back of my van until I could drive.
Stumbling and cursing, I threw myself into the backseat, next to all of my sales materials. Boxes, samples, and more samples surrounded me and actually made for a nice little nest.
And slept some more.
Two hours later I was awakened by a rather unsettling thought and realization. I needed to puke.
Not later, not in a few minutes...but now.
Unfortunately, my high tech vehicle has automatic doors that require some finesse to open, even on a totally sober day. Confused and inebriated as I was, there was no way I could figure out how to open the door in time to expel the contents of my stomach on the sidewalk.
I was going to have to throw up in my car.
Flailing my arms around me (the van was totally dark) I searched for the closest thing that could serve as a trash can. My hands closed on one of the boxes that housed many of my sales materials.
Quick as a drunken flash, I dumped the contents from the box and lowered my head inside.
I would have sneakily tossed the box out of the van and left it for an unsuspecting homeless person to find, but I was terrified a cop would drive by and witness a 28-year-old drunk girl in business attire and bed head tossing a box of vomit out of the back of her vehicle.
So I just left it there.
And slept some more.
Eventually, I woke up and was sober enough to get to my hotel. Upon arriving, I did a sweep of the parking lot and found a dumpster nearby. I threw up my throw up box into the dumpster and headed to my room.
And swore never to drink again.