chocolate misunderstandings and other apologies

Saturday, jul. 15, 2006   |   0 comments

I feel like I owe Portland an apology. Or at least an explanation.

So here goes: I know how it may have looked, Portland, when I burst out of one of the bathroom stalls at your scenic Union Station, holding up a hand absolutely covered in whorls and peaks of brown. And then when I rushed over to the sink and frantically started scrubbing and soaping both my hands and my bag, that probably didn’t look so great either. But that was chocolate, Portland! CHOCOLATE! You see, while I was in there, heeding nature’s call, I happened to reach inside my bag and discover that the bite-sized chocolates I stole from last night’s reading had melted, spectacularly, all over my hair rubberbands and also my Sidekick. (Of course, while I’m thumbtyping these words, I’m stopping periodically to lick newly discovered caches of chocolate off my keyboard, which probably isn’t helping my case with Portland much, either.)

On the other hand, the rivulets of red running down from underneath my skirt earlier today … you remember, Portland? It was while I was down at the Rite Aid? Buying tampons? That wasn’t Hawaiin Punch or a melting popsical accident. That actually WAS blood. Note to self: Rite Aid doesn’t have a bathroom for customers, not even customers experiencing a mortifying menstrual mishap. (Dear chivalry, my condolences on your recent death!)

So anyway, Portland, big sorries about all the confusion. I sure hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, because I’d like to come back for another visit some day, mostly because I really love the way you smell: like fresh grasses and heated cement, two of my favorite whiffs.

Oh and while I’m handing out apologies, I’d also like to say to the very nice couple Matt and Lisa (at least I think it was Lisa?), whom I met after the reading: I’m sorry that the very first thing I said to you was, “I’ve dated five Matts in my life!” And then proceeded to make it worse by explaining how those Matts were all pretty disappointing, and now whenever I meet one, I have to resist the urge to run for the hills. And then! My sloppy attempt at triage — the part where I told Matt, “Oh, but not YOU of course,” thereby earning a funny look from Lisa — that was the best (by which I mean worst) of all! So yeah, sorry about that, and did I mention that I had three+ servings of the night’s special drink, the “Red Carpet”? Another note to self: when you take a sip of a pink drink and the first words out of your mouth are, “Is there booze in this?” You’re already in trouble. Switch to water immediately! Do not, at any cost, turn to the bartender and yell, “Well ROLL OUT THOSE RED CARPETS!” Trust me, I went down that latter route, and it only ended in a hangover and more than my share of cringe-tinged memories.