Tarheel Tavern

So Waterfall is hosting the Tavern for us this week, and she's decided she wants people to send in posts about times when they were in an embarrassing or crucial situation. Well if you know anything about me, you probably suspect that my past is chock full of embarrassing moments.

You'd be right.

See, embarrassing moments run in my family, mostly because we like to cause them for one another. I remember the first time I ever saw the ocean. We'd planned a family vacation to Myrtle Beach, and I was pretty excited to be going to "The Beach" for the first time ever. We got there in the evening and went straight to dinner. I didn't even see the water until after dark -high tide, full moon low on the horizon- it was pretty awesome. Anyway, the next morning we headed out to do what it is that kids want to do at the beach: everything.

First stop, Wings, for a new bathing suit. I was, I don't know, 13? I bought the sexiest bathing suit I could con my mother into. I was a super model in my black one-piece with the belly cut out... It looked sort of like a bikini, but the 2 pieces were held together with big silver rings, and whatever the material was, it looked like leather. It was oh-so-80's, and in retrospect, it was a bit remniscent of the S&M crowd...

Anyway, needless to say, I was hot - flat chest, knobby knees, NO tan, struttin' my stuff down the boardwalk. Man, I'm telling you every guy we passed thought I was purrrr-TEE! I figure it took my mother about 1.5 seconds to spot the behavior, consider the problem, and form a plan...

So we step into one of the million arcades along the boardwalk, play a little Skee Ball, a few rounds of the claw game, grab a drink, an smart ass me - I plop down on the quarter operated dolphin ride. At the time, it seemd like a funny thing to do, "Look at me Mom, all grown up sitting on this kiddie dolphin ride!" Yup, it was hysterical, right up until my mother runs over and pops a quarter in it. I couldn't hold on very well because I had a drink in one hand, and I was falling off, because - scrawny as I was - this thing was made to fit the butts of toddlers, not the smart asses of teenagers. So I couldn't quite stay on, and I couldn't quite get off, and my mother is laughing so hard her face is purple. Every face in the arcade is riveted on me. I hear cars crashing, Pac-Man being eaten by the ghost, Mario and Luigi's music has stopped, and on Duck Hunt, that damned dog is pointing and laughing. Suddenly, I realize: I am, without a doubt, the center of attention.

Guess Ma knew how to teach me a thing or 2 without saying a word, eh? She still teases me about the dolphin ride. I still blush when she brings it up. Cured me of the drama-queen need for attention I'd been experiencing just moments earlier. Well, I'm mostly cured, until I start drinking, as you can see by this picture of me, perched on top of a concrete lion after a weekend of drinking in Atlanta. Maybe all Ma really taught me was to avoid sitting on things that took quarters?