What A Slip!
(Part 4 in my “Don’t Hang Up!” series)
Blame it on my red pantyhose.
Since leaving work, I’d sworn never to wear them again. Not until I bought an expensive red evening dress and high-heeled red shoes, and as an afterthought, red pantyhose to complete the ensemble. Come on, I could make the occasional sacrifice.
Who knows what direction my life would have followed if I hadn’t worn them to a New Year’s Eve party?
And then I had the slip. Just when I was in a nothing-can-stop-me-now mood, ready to take on the world – or Mexico City – and open my restaurant-deli in the spring. As it turned out, what appeared to be a minor setback had long-term consequences that changed the course of my life. Otherwise, I might not be writing about this incident. I might be … oh, hang it, that falls into the “what if?” category.
It wasn’t what we called in AA “a slip.” All I drank that evening was non-alcoholic fruit punch, but who’d believe that someone eight months sober could resist temptation on New Year’s Eve? To make it worse, it wasn’t the kind of party I’d have chosen to go to if I wanted to start drinking again. But my well-meaning hostess, a TV cooking show personality, assured me it would be an unforgettable evening with fascinating people from the culinary world.
Unforgettable? Definitely. Fascinating people? Fascinated by themselves and what they had to say.
There was I, wedged between a leering, middle-aged food critic and a former academic in Hispanic cuisine who looked like he’d crawled out of his tomb for the evening. They argued the toss about obscure dishes while everyone, except for me, listened in rapt attention.
I missed the alcoholic buzz that made any talk, however dull, entertaining. How would I endure an evening with these fuddy duddies who got together on New Year’s to replay their previous year’s performance?
We sat down to dinner and my pantyhose turned into instruments of torture in my nethers, pinching my inner thighs, and giving me a prickly sensation in the wrong places. To make it worse, I had to pee, but I dared not go to the bathroom because I’d have to squeeze out of the bloody things and squeeze back into them. If anyone had seen what my legs were doing under the lace tablecloth, they would have thought I had the hots for the food critic.
Five minutes after midnight, when I tried to take my leave, I faced an implacable fence of coercion. Even though I wasn’t drinking the just opened champagne, it would be rude to depart before the first toast of the new year. Around one, the Nosferatu lookalike/academic, worried about drunken drivers and muggers mugging people in cars at stoplights – as if the very sight of him wouldn’t have made even the fiercest mugger run for his life – said he had to leave.
At last, relief in sight. I leaped to my feet and bidding a swift farewell, almost ran out the door. Since it was a first floor apartment, I bounded down the stairs. In ten minutes, I’d be home and my first stop …
…was not to be the long awaited bathroom.
At 3 a.m., there I was, lying on a table in the emergency room, with a doctor telling me I had a fractured hip. Ridiculous. All the other New Years when I’d gone out and got plastered and nothing happened. Why now, without a drop of alcohol in me? Who would believe it was just a slip of the physical kind?
And I was still wearing the red pantyhose and still needing to pee – more than ever.
Now, that was a true dilemma.
Do you have any stories like this one to share with us?
Tags: alcohol dependency,, Catering, Cooking, Culinary expertise, Fall from grace, Food Business, new start, turning point
This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010 at 11:10 pm and is filed under Challenges & opportunities after professional job loss, Don't Hang Up! series, Mexico, Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
16 Responses to “What A Slip!”
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Hey Penelope,
There’s some irony for you! I think I’ve heard that sometimes when people drink they bounce better more when they fall. Maybe that’s just an ole wives tale? Enjoyed hearing your different meanings for the word “slip.” Someone “slipped” me a mickey at a club once. Apparently, they put it in my drink when I was on the dance floor. A horrible evening ensued. It took at least a week to feel right again. And to this day, I never ever leave a drink unattended …
Giulietta
It did occur to me that when I was drinking, I’d fall down and have all these bruises but no broken bones – sort of like a rubber ball, but maybe when you’re sober, your reflexes aren’t dulled and tense up or something.
To be slipped a mickey. I remember that story from Commonties. What a dreadful experience. And to think it happens all the time. I believe it happened to me a couple of times, once with disastrous results so I can certainly empathize.
What a dreadful New Year’s for you! Other than a midnight swim in the Pacific at the start of the new millennium, my New Year’s tend to be pretty quiet. And sans red panty hose! Before my dad quit drinking, he joked that it was dangerous to be out there on New Year’s, with all those amateur drinkers.
Seré,
How funny that your dad would make that comment though I have heard heavy drinkers talk about “all those drunks out there” or drunk drivers causing accidents, etc. Even the ancient academic who was worried about them must have imbibed his fair share of vino. Thanks for sharing.
Hilarious!!! this is really a black joke!!!! short story in itself but as you say….sometimes this short stories change the course of the big story that is life….
Christopher, Glad you liked it even though at the time, it wasn’t as funny. It’s amazing how one can make funny stories out of back luck. Tragi-comedies, I guess.
I like this very much. “J’aime beaucoup” like we say in French.
Great articles post. Keep up the good work.
Thanks, Geoff. Glad you like my articles.
I really do like your updates, you should update more often. I’m sure you would get more people to your site if you did.Great site! Finally someone who shows the effort put into the site. Please keep updating as much as you can The feel to this site is great, I do like the color scheme you used on this site.
Hah, this reminds me of the time when I was about 13. I had gone to dressmaking classes with my Mum and had made a black trousers and a long red waistcoat. Added to that I had a black polo and thought I was the bees knees. We to church, Easter Saturday. Had to be taken out of the church as I was feeling unwell. Dad walking ahead of me I fainted in front of the whole church. I was never let forget that “Pride comes before a fall” This was the beginning of a long career in falling…and I don’t drink alcohol at all. Luckily I have managed to avoid major injury. But who’d believe me. Thank you for the memory, Penelope
Hah, this reminds me of the time when I was about 13. I had gone to dressmaking classes with my Mum and had made a black trousers and a long red waistcoat. Added to that I had a black polo and thought I was the bees knees. We to church, Easter Saturday. Had to be taken out of the church as I was feeling unwell. Dad walking ahead of me I fainted in front of the whole church. I was never let forget that “Pride comes before a fall” This was the beginning of a long career in falling…and I don’t drink alcohol at all. Luckily I have managed to avoid major injury. But who’d believe me. Thank you for the memory, Penelope
Oh my gosh, I’d begun to suspect your were accident prone and here, you confirm it. Thank God you have managed to avoid major injury but that often seems the case with people who are constantly having accidents. Major injury seems to occur more to people who take care of themselves and seldom have anything go wrong. Wonder why?
Wow.
Thom, That says it all!
Weird and wonderful story. Don’t blame it on the tights! And seriously, you need to buy yourself a better pair. Many can be found that fit well and feel terrific (not scratchy, itchy, and binding as you describe).