My Most Embarrassing Moment

When I was fourteen, my parents and I were visiting friends in North Carolina. Our host took us to a private club for dinner.  This place was probably the fanciest spot I had ever experienced, even to this day. The plush carpeting was so thick that with each step, my foot was instantly enveloped in a shroud of luxurious softness. The chairs were huge soft leather thrones that swiveled and rolled with ease around the table.  Wanting to help an awkward adolescent feel a sense of sophistication, as we were seated, our host asked if I had ever tried escargot. I had not, and I wasn’t even sure I knew what that was. Upon hearing this was a dish of garlic and snails, at first I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to have this experience, but when I was assured of how delicious they were, I decided to be adventuresome. I was willing to try new things, and I certainly wanted to appear more adult-like than the gawky teenager that I knew I was.

            The escargot were prepared tableside, and the server did an amazing job of sautéing them with a flair of showmanship. When he placed the dish in front of me, this kind waiter asked if I knew how to remove the meat. I nodded no, and he kindly showed me how to use the tiny fork to pry the rather rubbery snail from its shell. It was dripping in garlic and butter, and really did smell delicious. I actually liked the taste as well.  Our host was quite pleased with himself that he had been the one to introduce me to this refined delicacy. Once I felt confident that I had mastered the art of using this tiny fork, the waiter left me to enjoy my appetizer. The adults continued their conversation, and I was feeling very grown up.

            As I continued to work on my plate of escargot, I got a bit too zealous. The tiny-pronged fork needed a bit more help, so I thought. Using a bit too much force, the snail came out so quickly that it sailed over my shoulder and landed at the table behind me in a lady’s bouffant hair-do. This was 1969, and the style then was to pile hair very high above the scalp. Desperately wanting to remain in my sense of sophistication, I whispered for my mom under my breath.  I pointed to the slimy snail hanging from this poor, unsuspecting woman’s perfectly coiffed hair-do, and wanted to just slide under the table to hide myself.

            My mom whispered back, “She doesn’t even know it’s there. Pretend it didn’t happen.” So that is exactly what I did. I prayed that it would fall off of her hair before she noticed, and wondered if I would ever learn the art of sophistication. This particular attempt was not quite there yet.

            To this day, I often think about that poor lady with the snail hanging from her hair, and I am reminded that life is full of surprises. Growing into adulthood can be a as tricky as eating escargot.