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Y'all come on in!

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

BUCKET SEATS...


Mama should have given me a far different middle name. Mine means famous warrior. Surely there is one out there that means acute clumsiness. If someone moves a drop of air from the living room to the kitchen, I will fall over it. Forget about rocks or furniture, if there is a blade of grass that has grown taller than all the rest out there in the yard, I can find it and stumble over it.

So the RWA Conference was over and we’d snagged a cushy ride back to the airport with another author so the price didn’t make my bank account whimper. Had the best visit with the driver and other author the whole way. Then he parks right in front of the outside check in so all I have to do is get out of the black van, walk a few steps and boom, we are on our way back to Oklahoma.

It was the “getting out of the van” that got me into trouble. Mr. B was sitting on the side next to the curb and he hopped out to help get out bags all sorted out. All I had to do was slide over, carefully find the step down on the side of the van, and I was on my way.

I slid before I remembered that the cushy black car did NOT have a bench back seat. My fanny wasn’t wide enough to hook the edge of the other bucket seat (maybe I didn’t eat enough cheese cake while in New York). It was wider than the space between the seats and stuck firmly right there. Evidently, I did eat entirely too much cheesecake while in New York City.

One foot went up under the front passenger’s seat and the other one got tangled up in my gypsy skirt, which thank the Lord, had the grace not to fly up over my head. So there I was stuck between two seats like a hot dog in a bug and I could not get any kind of traction to pull myself up. Those seats were hugging me like a long lost sister and visions of being buried in that black van flashed through my mind.

And that’s when I heard the tinkling sound. My purse had fallen out onto the street and the contents had fallen out for all the world to see. That put me into third gear and I tried desperately to pull myself up. Nothing doing! It was like quicksand pulling me down between those seats.

Finally, the poor little driver came to my rescue and I’m sure he’s seeing a chiropractor this whole week after helping me out of that predicament. But the thing I worried most about was my purse…not my phone, not my wallet or even my favorite ink pen but I did not want all those staring eyes to see that pair of bright pink granny panties stuck inside the purse. I do go prepared especially when I have a head cold and a terrible cough…but I sure didn’t want the whole world to see!

The rest of the story…Mr. B hurriedly put all the items back in my purse and in my haste that morning I’d forgotten to pack my emergency under britches, so I was saved!

Lessons learned…zip your purse, Carolyn! AND check the seats before you slide.

Today I'm giving away a signed copy of  The Trouble with Texas Cowboys! I'll chose a winner tonight from the folks who comment on this blog. What was your recent embarrassing moment...or just comment if it was so bad you can't talk about it!

Ready...set...go!

14 comments:

  1. Too many and too varried to speak of! I am as klutzy as you are, so I feel your pain! I usually fall while wearing flats instead of heels and always while wearing a skirt! Maybe I'm just more cautious in heels! Now I better go check my undies cause you've made me laugh so hard!

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  2. Oh my goodness! I should have visited the facilities before reading this! Luckily I'm home so don't need the granny panties from the purse...just get them out of the drawer!

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  3. Your not the only one with knickers in your bag.Got on the bus opened bag to show driver my weekly pass got caught in my knickers. They flew in front of his face I just managed to catch them before they landed. We all laughed

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  4. As you know Carolyn I'm a horse lover and a rider. I've ridden and shown horses all my life. Well one weekend I got invited to go on a trial ride. We rode all day and then we were going to climb a hill next to a big creek. I did good crossing the creek and climbing the hill, which was straight up. We got to the top and turned around and headed back down. Well crap this is where it all went down hill., literally. As I got near the bottom my horse wouldn't slow down. When he got to the creek he stopped alright, but I didn't! Yes by lord I went over his head along with the saddle straight into that darn creek. I came up sputtering and spitting water and the horse looked at me like "why didn't you just hang on, I got this"! Moral of the story is water is so much softer than the hard ground, I didnt need a bath that day and I wasn't the only one who hit the water. Another boy hit it also.

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  5. Sometimes getting out a car is just not graceful anymore. And the purse thing, oh how I wish I remembered to do that more than once

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  6. This is hysterical! I'm so glad you obviously have a kindhearted and helpful husband! :) Yay, Mr. B! And thank goodness those emergency undies weren't where they were supposed to be! :)

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  7. LOL! Like hot dog in a bun, eh!? Well, I'm glad the driver helped you out of your jam, and I'm also glad you forgot to pack your emergency undies! Ha! I'm certain you made your predicament appear entirely dignified. :0)~

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  8. That's a good one Miz Carolyn! My embarassing airport story involved underbritches also. I was in college when 9/11 struck and when I went home (across the country) the following Christmas, I found myself in a pickle with the TSA. I kept setting off the metal detectors. At once, there was a lady jumping in front of me to wave her magic wand to find out where the problem was. It beeped at the tiny little bar in my hair elastic, and again at the area where my underwire was. That wand thing started going berzerk at my waistline. The lady went in for a pat down as the entire airport looked on- some in fear, but most in curiosity. As she was thoroughly doing her job, the reason dawned on me. I tried to tell the lady that I knew what the issue was, but was promptly shushed. I asked her as politely as possible if we could go somewhere a little more private, like behind a screen, but she refused. After about three more minutes, I leaned over and said, "Ma'am, I'm wearing glitter. Can I just show you?" I watched her scowl at me, while the to male agents overseeing us looked on with confused faces. After another moment, she nodded at the men who were ready to take me down any second. I unbuttoned my jeans, lowered my zipper, and showed off some of the bright red sparkles just below the elastic waistband. I'm pretty sure my face was redder than those underbritches as I got more than a few raised eyebrows, and not just from the TSA people. Apparently, my favorite pair of fancy granny panties warranted more trouble than wearing had I been in full stripper regalia. Heck, I was essentially flashing the entire airport. The men, satisfied I was no longer a threat tried to hold in their laughs as they walked away. The lady, now very red herself, looked at me and said, "Button your pants, gather your belongings, and get to your gate." I did as she told me and have always made very conscious decisions about my travel attire ever since.

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  9. Back when I was a lot younger I'd went with my best friend to look at a modular home and as I was walking up the steps I walked right out of one of my shoes. The guy that was showing the home just said "You can put the rest of your things over there." That guy always was a dirty old man. I was embarrassed to death.

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  10. I think the most embarrassing time was when I was presenting at an International conference. I had quickly made an overhead to use and didn't check the spelling of peninsula. After the session a lady came up and said you might want to check your spelling. Was my face red! Can you guess the spelling?

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  11. Mostly just getting caught people watching, OK staring....

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  12. Mostly just getting caught people watching, OK staring....

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  13. Mostly just getting caught people watching, OK staring....

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