Thursday, July 12, 2012

my first ever press con


I would in brief, say that my life was in a different ‘phase’ compared with my past. Things have changed. I no longer attend my alma mater to which my heart humbly pays gratitude. I’m no longer a “teenager” having breached that milestone not two weeks ago. I no longer remember the traumatic experience of having to sit for the Advanced Level Exam (I no longer pay attention to the latest updates of the university selections and exam hype mostly due to the fact to that I cannot keep up with the constant change. One day they say “ok you’re are screwed”. The next they say “you are more or less screwed”. The following day they say “you’re definitely screwed” in not so many words but that’s all I hear)

My life has definitely changed. I am now a budding journalist cum reporter for one of Sri Lanka’s prestigious schools (sadly it is not my own and my heart fathoms that it is at a divided duty) I’m a teacher, not qualified with so many degrees and years of teaching experience in schools but nonetheless a teacher to miniature individuals who are interesting individuals despite their age. Im a frequent writer to one of the nation’s top newspaper agencies. I dance, make personalized greeting cards, do colorful nail art in my spare time and rescue kittens and puppies when the need arises.

In my recent endeavors I have found myself in various situations. Most situations require my constant awareness and attention (minus the amusing scenarios that I make up in my head and the random lol moments I get when I remember past amusing incidents. And these notions I get mind you, are on very serious occasions that need my professional behavior)

My first press conference was one such incident when I needed to keep my eyes, ears and all other senses in good operational condition. There I was seated comfortably next to my colleagues ready for the con to start when I was offered fruit juice. That little voice in my mind said “ok. Easy does it. Careful with that glass.” My hand on the other hand, like a small defiant child, went right ahead and knocked over my other hand holding the glass. --_-- moment.

Part of me wanted to laugh. But the part which activates during serious situations held it in place. “ok gracefully take a tissue and wipe the juice off your pants, note pad and chair or At least the notepad since the rest can be camouflaged” it said. So with the aid of my colleague who was seated next to me, I managed to – without attracting much attention – control the damage.

After several minutes of shuffling about in the vicinity trying to warm myself, (it was something like -10 or whatever) I returned to my seat. The voice in my head notified me that my pants were at a dangerously low level and on the brink of allowing a visual of my butt crack to the guests who were already there making fellowship and small talk. So before the voice could give me instructions on how to raise my pants in a discreet manner, my physic went ahead and did it. No questions asked. I slowly turned to see if anyone had seen it. Clearly my boss had. I could tell. He gave me an evil eye. “Oh and several other guests too I assume” says the voice in my brain.

 “Ok. Fine. That happens ithin. Im sorry I wore my disobedient pants today” I apologized to myself.

Sigh. I really need to work on my mind and body co-ordination. No seriously.

I was contemplating about the tragedy of my hand and body mis-synchronization when the master of ceremonies approached me and kindly pointed out to me that I was sitting on his blazer and asked me if it was possible for him to have it back. Massive facepalm. Naturally I gasped and said I was sorry. The gasping part came out to loud which in turn made him emphasize that it was all right.

“That’s ok. Accidents happen” my friend up North said. “Yeah ok.Easy for you to say. You’re just a voice in my head. hmph”  to which my friend did not bother replying.

The con went well. No flashy excitement etc. The eating and dinning commenced. I along with a few of my colleges went over to have a look-see at what they offered. Looks nice. More chickeny and sea food things so I made my way towards the veggie batch and helped myself. Made small talk with a few peple. All good on that front too. Goggled at the way some people were over-dosing on the heavy stuff. Checked out a good looking fella here and there. All went well. Until it was time for dessert.

Recommended by many, the dessert with a huge strawberry in the middle appealed to me. So I slowly made my way towards the place where the colorful dessert was stacked in neat little cups. I was peering into each and every variety until I found the ones with the strawberry in it. I daintily extended my right hand and got hold of one of the cups and my hand was on its way back when suddenly the whole rack of stacked strawberry desserts came crashing down on to their fancy carpet!

 The gentleman who was next to it, having a nice chat with a buddy of his, jumped a mile in the air and upon landing back on earth, slowly merged into the crowd of about 70 odd people (including hotel staff) who were now staring at me. I stood there in shock with my mouth gaping open.
The entire rack. Was on the floor!

The voice in my head moaned. And I heard a metaphorical gunshot as it shot itself with equal sound volume as the now deceased dessert rack.

I more or less heard several gentlemen next to me saying or not saying that it was allright. My mind had gone blank and I was not sure if I was imagining it or not. A colleague of mine came running to usher me back to a corner. And then with my eyes gaping open my mouth hanging wide open I started to laugh! Like the mentally malfunctioning person I am. Laughing until tears of shame and shock came pouring down. Not really. That’s  a figure of speech. But yeah I was laughing my head off. It was funny.

Here I am, presuming the youngest person in the crowd, in a five star hotel, knocking over the entire rack of desserts amidst a large group of gentlemen. (There were only a four or five ladies present) and all I could do was laugh. The more I tried to pretend it wasn’t me, the more colleagues came over to congratulate me on being the spot light of the night. Their sayings varied from “that’ll come out of your pay” to “what’s that compared to the time I knocked over an entire wedding cake” to “the next time, remind us to keep you away from the dessert rack” all in good humor of course.  \^_^/

What else could I do but continue eating my pudding in utter amusement. Things subsidized eventually and when it was time to say our farewells, I walked over to my boss to say good night. A passing gentleman and a friend of my boss said something in the terms of “a job well done” referring to my spot light incident when my boss asked him “why, what happened?” to which he promptly narrated the scene to my boss who had no clue up until that time.

He did not say anything but continued to go on with his evening.

Clearly, he was not amused.

The way things were going, I’ll probably be fired by next Tuesday.  --_--

Well at least this was better than the time I tripped on a carpet and fell onto the coffin of my distant relative and a nearby aunty had to sort of fish me out of the coffin. Mind you, this was when my unfortunate relative still in the coffin. Imagine trying to eternally rest in peace and having me fall on you in your death bed.

Not an amusing thought for the deceased but for me and my memoirs, it is indeed a hilarious experience which I will love and cherish for times to come. =D

Peace!

P.S. i saw a waiter pointing out to one of his colleges that i was the culprit behind the mess. Now they probably have a picture of me in their "do not let the following enter the hotel at ANY cost" list. 

P.P.S. just fyi, got the bill today. my damage alone had cost a total sum amounting upto Rs. 19,730 /=

-_-

no glass was broken so what gives?!?!

even my pair of gold earring are not worth that. what the heck was that carpet made out of anyway? platinum!?!?



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