It has come to my attention that it has been a while since I shared an embarrassing moment on my blog. And since I'm all about sharing embarrassing moments, I thought I should whip up another installment.
I grew up in Southern Michigan, in an area riddled with lakes. There were easily 10 lakes within a 30 mile radius of my home. My grandparents lived on a lake, and I learned to water ski at an early age. It makes sense that I got my very first job between my Freshman and Sophomore years of high school (at the ripe old age of 14) at a marina.
My marina job was the best job of my life. Sure, I was a peon who had to clean the showroom boats, clean the rental cottage, mow the lawn, and pump the gas into each and every boat on the lake, but 98% of my time that summer was spent outside in sandals, shorts, and a bathing suit top. And my boss was cool- he gave his employees free reign to the pop machine outside. All you had to do was grab the key and open it up. The hardest part was choosing what kind you wanted. Now that I'm an adult, I realize that was his way of insuring we all stayed as hydrated as possible in the summer heat, but at the time I was all like, "Woooooah, man! Free pop!"
I was the only female employee, outside of the owners fiancee, who was beautiful but also engaged to the owner. Dave, the owner, leaned toward hiring college boys for help because most of the work (outside of what I helped with) required strong young tanned and shirtless muscular men to help with. Looking back, that was probably just the opinion of a boy crazy 14 year old girl, but I'm glad I stayed hydrated because little 14 year old me? Yeah. I seriously spent the summer wiping drool off my chin.
The one problem with me having this job (full time for the most part) was the fact that the marina was located about 15 miles outside of the town I lived in, and it had funky hours that didn't allow my mom to take me in the one and only family car because she had a job that supported our family and all. My parents put their heads together and solved this problem by purchasing "My Thing".
"My Thing" was a purple Yamaha Jog, and I adored it. It was a joy that I had never known before, and I commuted each day on back country roads that were rarely traveled, filling my lungs with the freshest, freest air I have ever felt.
I had one of those hip half helmets with the face shield that snaps onto the front, and promised my parents to always wear it. Plus, it was the law. One bright and free summer day, I was on my way to work and decided since I had glasses on I would remove that face shield(but still wear the helmet- I was a good girl).
I was almost out of town, in a corporate area that bordered the edge. Beyond that was nothing but miles and miles of country and fresh air. Farms, corn fields, and free range dogs aplenty, but I wasn't concerned with them because I was able to go 45 mph. What I was concerned with was being able to watch college boys muscles ripple in the sun when I got to work.
Just as I passed the very last factory on the way out of town, it happened. I was happily doing my 45 mph, and WHACK! something hit me on the side of the face, in between the helmet and my cheek. And it stung quite a bit, too, like the hefty sting of a fly swatter on a bare leg. As my mind was processing what it was that could have hit me, I felt it start moving further down under the helmet.
As I felt this thing crawl on my face, I couldn't stop my thing and get my helmet off fast enough. And I couldn't, either, because as I was yelling, "No, No, No!" the damn thing, WHATEVER IT WAS, was crawling into my ear. By the time I was able to get the helmet off, it was fully inside my ear. And buzzing. Now I did not see this bug, and for all I knew it could have been a bee, or even worse, a wasp that can continue stinging and stinging and stinging when riled up.
Now the 14 year old girl in me wanted to lose it Mommy Dearest style, screaming like a banshee and flailing like a freshly caught bluegill. But some coherent part of me realized that I was on the edge of town, and there would be no one around to come to my assistance. As I tried to figure out what to do, I realized that I had just passed up the last factory on the edge of town. So slowly, I turned my thing around, my eyes as big as saucers, trying not to cry and loose my cool, and listening to the periodic buzz of the Boeing jet engine inside my ear.
I rode back to the factory, walked in through their front office door and up to the sliding glass partition that usually has someone sitting behind it. And thank the good Lord, at this time, on this day, it did. A really nice looking woman, who noticed my approach.
It was at this moment I had to do one of the most embarrassing things in my life. I watched her slide the glass open as I shook like a pager, and I looked her square in the eye and said, "Excuse me please, but I have a bug stuck in my ear."
To which she started to smirk and look around in the manner of "Who put you up to this, little girl?". I was sure she was thinking someone had to be pulling a prank on her. Either that, or I was mentally unstable and needed the assistance of the local authorities. And frankly, in my mind, the more authorities the better in case I wound up getting stung in the ear drum 19 gazillion times.
I tried to get her to see the seriousness of the situation. "I'm really not joking, there is a bug in my ear, and a big one, too."
"How big?" She asked me, probably thinking I was getting shaken up over a freeking gnat. Being an adult now, I'll give her that one, too. 14 year old girls do have a habit of being melodramatic.
"I don't know, I didn't exactly see it well, but please PLEASE help me."
She actually came through her door and walked into the little reception area to take a look. As she put her face closer to my ear, the bug let off a particularly nasty buzz.
She heard it. And she jumped back a full two feet from me as her eyes grew round and she realized I, in fact, was not a paid participant in a joke at her expense. "Ok, I'll call someone to help, hang on."
Before she could finish the sentence, the bug delivered me from my torture and crawled its self back out of my ear.
The glass window lady stood there, fully not believing what she was seeing. Some sort of bluish green beetle bug flew from my ear and around the little waiting room. I was so relieved I wanted to collapse. She let off giant exclamations of disbelief that that bug could have actually FIT in my ear canal.
I thanked her for her time, went back out to "My Thing", SNAPPED MY VISOR SHIELD BACK ONTO MY HELMET, and finished the drive to work.
I was almost 45 minutes late for work that day, and showed up with the excuse, "I'm sorry I'm late for work, but I got a bug stuck in my ear." And then of course I had to tell my story.
Those college boys I spent my summer drooling over? They filled my head with thoughts of that bug laying eggs in my ear (apparently Star Trek style) until I insisted somebody douse the whole side of my face and ear in both rubbing alcohol AND peroxide.
Oh yeah, and they spent the rest of the summer buzzing at me.
BZZZZT.
I grew up in Southern Michigan, in an area riddled with lakes. There were easily 10 lakes within a 30 mile radius of my home. My grandparents lived on a lake, and I learned to water ski at an early age. It makes sense that I got my very first job between my Freshman and Sophomore years of high school (at the ripe old age of 14) at a marina.
My marina job was the best job of my life. Sure, I was a peon who had to clean the showroom boats, clean the rental cottage, mow the lawn, and pump the gas into each and every boat on the lake, but 98% of my time that summer was spent outside in sandals, shorts, and a bathing suit top. And my boss was cool- he gave his employees free reign to the pop machine outside. All you had to do was grab the key and open it up. The hardest part was choosing what kind you wanted. Now that I'm an adult, I realize that was his way of insuring we all stayed as hydrated as possible in the summer heat, but at the time I was all like, "Woooooah, man! Free pop!"
I was the only female employee, outside of the owners fiancee, who was beautiful but also engaged to the owner. Dave, the owner, leaned toward hiring college boys for help because most of the work (outside of what I helped with) required strong young tanned and shirtless muscular men to help with. Looking back, that was probably just the opinion of a boy crazy 14 year old girl, but I'm glad I stayed hydrated because little 14 year old me? Yeah. I seriously spent the summer wiping drool off my chin.
The one problem with me having this job (full time for the most part) was the fact that the marina was located about 15 miles outside of the town I lived in, and it had funky hours that didn't allow my mom to take me in the one and only family car because she had a job that supported our family and all. My parents put their heads together and solved this problem by purchasing "My Thing".
"My Thing" was a purple Yamaha Jog, and I adored it. It was a joy that I had never known before, and I commuted each day on back country roads that were rarely traveled, filling my lungs with the freshest, freest air I have ever felt.
I had one of those hip half helmets with the face shield that snaps onto the front, and promised my parents to always wear it. Plus, it was the law. One bright and free summer day, I was on my way to work and decided since I had glasses on I would remove that face shield(but still wear the helmet- I was a good girl).
I was almost out of town, in a corporate area that bordered the edge. Beyond that was nothing but miles and miles of country and fresh air. Farms, corn fields, and free range dogs aplenty, but I wasn't concerned with them because I was able to go 45 mph. What I was concerned with was being able to watch college boys muscles ripple in the sun when I got to work.
Just as I passed the very last factory on the way out of town, it happened. I was happily doing my 45 mph, and WHACK! something hit me on the side of the face, in between the helmet and my cheek. And it stung quite a bit, too, like the hefty sting of a fly swatter on a bare leg. As my mind was processing what it was that could have hit me, I felt it start moving further down under the helmet.
As I felt this thing crawl on my face, I couldn't stop my thing and get my helmet off fast enough. And I couldn't, either, because as I was yelling, "No, No, No!" the damn thing, WHATEVER IT WAS, was crawling into my ear. By the time I was able to get the helmet off, it was fully inside my ear. And buzzing. Now I did not see this bug, and for all I knew it could have been a bee, or even worse, a wasp that can continue stinging and stinging and stinging when riled up.
Now the 14 year old girl in me wanted to lose it Mommy Dearest style, screaming like a banshee and flailing like a freshly caught bluegill. But some coherent part of me realized that I was on the edge of town, and there would be no one around to come to my assistance. As I tried to figure out what to do, I realized that I had just passed up the last factory on the edge of town. So slowly, I turned my thing around, my eyes as big as saucers, trying not to cry and loose my cool, and listening to the periodic buzz of the Boeing jet engine inside my ear.
I rode back to the factory, walked in through their front office door and up to the sliding glass partition that usually has someone sitting behind it. And thank the good Lord, at this time, on this day, it did. A really nice looking woman, who noticed my approach.
It was at this moment I had to do one of the most embarrassing things in my life. I watched her slide the glass open as I shook like a pager, and I looked her square in the eye and said, "Excuse me please, but I have a bug stuck in my ear."
To which she started to smirk and look around in the manner of "Who put you up to this, little girl?". I was sure she was thinking someone had to be pulling a prank on her. Either that, or I was mentally unstable and needed the assistance of the local authorities. And frankly, in my mind, the more authorities the better in case I wound up getting stung in the ear drum 19 gazillion times.
I tried to get her to see the seriousness of the situation. "I'm really not joking, there is a bug in my ear, and a big one, too."
"How big?" She asked me, probably thinking I was getting shaken up over a freeking gnat. Being an adult now, I'll give her that one, too. 14 year old girls do have a habit of being melodramatic.
"I don't know, I didn't exactly see it well, but please PLEASE help me."
She actually came through her door and walked into the little reception area to take a look. As she put her face closer to my ear, the bug let off a particularly nasty buzz.
She heard it. And she jumped back a full two feet from me as her eyes grew round and she realized I, in fact, was not a paid participant in a joke at her expense. "Ok, I'll call someone to help, hang on."
Before she could finish the sentence, the bug delivered me from my torture and crawled its self back out of my ear.
The glass window lady stood there, fully not believing what she was seeing. Some sort of bluish green beetle bug flew from my ear and around the little waiting room. I was so relieved I wanted to collapse. She let off giant exclamations of disbelief that that bug could have actually FIT in my ear canal.
I thanked her for her time, went back out to "My Thing", SNAPPED MY VISOR SHIELD BACK ONTO MY HELMET, and finished the drive to work.
I was almost 45 minutes late for work that day, and showed up with the excuse, "I'm sorry I'm late for work, but I got a bug stuck in my ear." And then of course I had to tell my story.
Those college boys I spent my summer drooling over? They filled my head with thoughts of that bug laying eggs in my ear (apparently Star Trek style) until I insisted somebody douse the whole side of my face and ear in both rubbing alcohol AND peroxide.
Oh yeah, and they spent the rest of the summer buzzing at me.
BZZZZT.
4 comments:
Who knew you were such a randy little thing at 14 years old! In roughly 1400 word post, you mentioned college boys 3 times and drooling over them twice. You got something on your mind babe? NIU is just down the street, do I need to be worried?
Bonehead.
Ha! This post, and the comment interaction, is hilarious (I especially love that the comments are 1 minute apart!)!
I can say that year you had a awesome tan! Sorry about the bug but if you would not of taken off the shield this would not be written about at this time! LOL couldn't help being the Mom that told you so! LOL
Post a Comment