For Russ's birthday, I poured an entire bowl of steaming hot miso soup all over my front at a hip new Japanese restaurant. Since it came before the meal, I had to sit there the remainder of the meal with red skin under soaked clothing. Not to be outdone, I managed to provide an even more outlandish stunt for our 25th wedding anniversary this week.
For our evening meal we decided to have a once in a lifetime dining experience at a fancy-smancy restaurant boat on the Ohio River owned by Jeff Ruby. We dressed up a little bit for the occasion. I confess I had to have Russ help zip up my pants, not because they were tight, but because the top clasp was broken and I had to hold the waistband together while he yanked the zipper up. It was a nice pantsuit, so I really wanted to wear it for our special night out.
Valet parked our mini van, making Russ regret that we didn't bring our Monte Carlo SS. We nearly pranced into the restaurant, soaking up all the ambiance and indulgent wait-staff. Our table was situated on the window side of the restaurant, with a view of the river and the beautiful Cincinnati skyline. We splurged and ordered surf and turf (a petite lobster tail and specialty steak, aged to perfection). Four waiters/servers were assigned to our table, to assist our every need.
Before the main course, my diuretic kicked in, and I was escorted to the powder room. All was well until I tried to zip up. The zipper was stuck. I tried every trick, but the zipper would not budge. I thought I needed a different angle, so I took off the slacks and tried again. Nothing. I tried tucking the waistband into the top of my white granny underwear, but it didn't work. I racked my brain and could not think of any Macgyver type trick to fix the dilemma. I considered my options. Stay in the bathroom the rest of the night until Russ retrieved me, or go back to my seat, hoisting up my pants with my "discreet" hands, and make the best of the situation. I decided to face the world bravely, and out the door I went. I held my head high, hoping not to draw attention to my awkward walk. I looked like the man on Boston Legal who has Asperger's Syndrome.
Russ knew right away what had happened. I tried to assure him that it would not keep me from having a good time. I enjoyed the company, the view, the service, and the food. It was a fabulous experience, and having a sense of humor helped me make the best of a terrible situation.
I had to make yet another trip to the powder room thanks to that tardy-acting diuretic. This time, I tried to remove a safety pin Russ had put on the back of my bra to gather my straps together in the middle, but it was nearly impossible to squirm out of the garment unassisted. I used brut force and the explosion of energy broke off the head of the safety pin, releasing just the pin part for me to use to fix my pants. I poked the pin through the material on each side of the zipper and bent the metal until I made a makeshift closure. The pointy end went directly into my skin. So, not to be jabbed any worse, once again I walked like a duck back to the table.
It could have been one of Alexander's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. But I decided to focus on the positive and make the most of my evening. This is one of those times that the Joy of Jesus supersedes the negative events we go through in life. In the full scheme of things, it wasn't going to matter if my pants fell down, but it did matter that I showed my dear husband the appreciation of twenty-five good years.
We walked out arm in arm, and maybe, just maybe we took my secret with us and no one else was the wiser!
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