My most embarrassing moment wasn’t when my best friend asked me to be a bridesmaid. I knew she loved all things pink and frilly, but it was her day; I’d wear whatever cupcake-colored dress required.

My most embarrassing moment also wasn’t when she asked the wife of her fiancée’s best man, a woman she didn’t know very well, to be her Maid of Honor, just so the wife and the husband could walk down the aisle together. Although pretty humbled, I understood the logistics.

And it wasn’t when I realized I was a size 18 in a party of size four bridesmaids. At the bridal shop–in a moment of shame–I ordered my dress in a size 14, but I figured I could diet myself down to fit into it.

It wasn’t when my best friend hounded me to stay on my diet, threatening dismemberment if I didn’t fit into my frilly pink dress by her wedding day. I understood her fear.

It wasn’t when, on the day of the final fitting (although I had darn near starved myself) the dress was still too tight. The seamstress merely took the shawl I was to wear about my shoulders–like the other bridesmaids–and used it to extend the dress in the back. I was minus one shawl afterward, but at least my dress fit.

It wasn’t at the rehearsal dinner, when the usher with whom I was paired to walk down the aisle declared loudly that he only dated “thin chicks.” He’d only said such a thing because he was terrified that someone might think he and I were a couple.

It wasn’t when the bride, seeing that I was shawless during our dress rehearsal, ordered the other bridesmaids to ditch their shawls as well, so we’d all match. I deserved the dirty looks I got from my fellow bridesmaids.

It wasn’t when, on the day of the wedding, my usher got drunk in the limo on the way to the church and–beer goggles firmly in place–groped my thigh. “I know you never had a guy like me before,” he slurred. “So here’s your chance. We‘ll do the wedding thing, but I say we ditch after, and you meet me around back, ‘kay?”

Yes, I was embarrassed then, but...

My most embarrassing moment was when I walked down the aisle alone, in a stained, torn, frilly dress, because my usher had vomited on me and grabbed my sleeve right before he passed out in the backseat of the limo. But I wasn’t embarrassed just for me. The usher was the bride’s brother.

I felt so bad for my best friend.

I’m on my first business trip to Philadelphia. The project involves another software development effort for a new client at 18th and Market, in the heart of the business district. My hotel is only a few blocks away. Someone suggests the stock exchange building at 19th and Market as a good place to have lunch as they have a seating area open to the public.

The scene is too much to take in at once. On the right is a glass wall; behind it is what must be the data center. The racks of servers with blinking lights and Dockers-wearing employees confirm it. One worker stands out in a particular. His tattoos and hardware in various piercings stand in stark contrast to the business casual outfit. A pleasant artificial water fall cascades ahead of me. On the left side of the atrium numerous stock tickers scroll their announcements of today’s winners and losers. I walk closer for a better look at my employer’s current trading price.

Kerplunk!

I’m completely under water! I'm rudely presented with the bottom of a small canal. I touch bottom with my finger tips and bring my knees in so they’re on something solid. I stand.

I’m waist-deep in a small canal fed by the waterfall. There were concrete barriers spaced a few feet apart to prevent exactly this from happening. They would have been far more effective had I looked where I was going. My cheese steak is in worse shape. The meat is bobbing separate from the roll, an oil spill of Velveta surrounds the mess. The wool trench coat I wear bogs me down as I climb out.

Everyone's quiet and looking at me. Even Mr. Tattoos and Hardware Under Glass is looking with a smirk. They don’t laugh out loud, but I hear giggles from a few. The day before the Dow dropped 400 points.

Some joker yells out, “The market will get better!”

I do my best to wring myself out before I leave wet footsteps out of the building. No cabbie wants a drenched man in the back seat. The few blocks to the hotel are miles when you have to endure cold winds and even colder stares. Once secure in my room, I call the client to indicate that something came up and I’ll be another hour or so at lunch.

After the trip, at home, my friends ask if I enjoyed seeing Philadelphia.

“I’ll never forget it.”

After sixth grade my parents pulled me out of public school and enrolled me in a catholic school. We weren’t catholic, we were presbyterian, but I still attended the catholic masses and took communion. In the catholic church, you take a wafer or chunk of bread, eat it, and sip from the cup of wine. I did this dozens of times during my two years there. A few years passed and I was back in public school. It wasn’t a terrible school, but we sure as hell weren’t taking communion.

It must have been Easter. My mom dragged me out of bed. We were heading to our church –our presbyterian church. It comes time for communion and I get in line. The line was moving fairly quickly, and before I knew it I was up. Most of the church had already participated and were back in the pews waiting for the service to continue. I took my wafer, chewed it up, and went in for the blood. As I reached for the cup, the woman holding it gave me a smile and pulled it back. I smiled back and reached for it. As I grasped the cup, I felt resistance. She was still holding on. I pulled, she pulled back. The tug-of-war lasted for about five seconds before I finally gave one quick pull and held the cup to my self. I gave her a look and took a sip.

Walking back to my pew, which was situated in the far back, I noticed every eye in the church was on me. My dad was punishing me with his eyes.

“What?” I asked him.
“What the hell was that?” he asked, sternly. Very, very sternly.

You see, us presbyterians do things a bit differently. Oblivious as I was, I hadn’t noticed that everyone else was taking the wafer, stepping to the cup, dipping the wafer, and then eating it.

I felt ridiculous. I bowed my head, clasped my hands, and prayed for forgiveness.

I was 15. She was 14. It was a very nervous affair where the most physical contact involved holding hands with at least 1 meter between us lest we accidentally rub shoulders. We diligently wrote each other’s names on our hands once day and wrote letters folded into cutesy shapes to each other. But it was great. I had a girlfriend. An all boys’ boarding school is a merciless. Any claim to fame is essential. To have a girlfriend, especially one who is verifiably not your sister, is an especially valuable card to have up your sleeve. It let you off the hook when the older boys came along looking for entertainment. And they left you alone when she was visiting in the afternoons. She did, after all, have other friends who were also female and you know how they all talk. They would not want to scare of any potential. It was GOOD.

Good that is, until that fateful summer afternoon in February, in the quad, under the plane tree. It was HOT, the type of wet, clingy heat that causes shirts to stick to backs and swimming practice to be canceled. You feel you could grab a handful of air and wring the moisture from it. MY girlfriend and I were chatting, about something nonsensical I am sure, in amongst all the other couples. Everyone is eyeing everyone else – surreptitiously of course - the boys watching the other boys to see “how far” they are getting with their girlfriends, and the girls watching the other girls for any one of over 100 things girls find important. All this watching promised a proper audience for what happened next. Whether it was the heat or a lack of some to eat I shall never know but my girlfriend unexpectedly fainted, flopping to the floor with a gentle, lady like thump.

Muggins over here was flummoxed. This was so far out of my realm of experience that I stood there and gaped for a moment while everyone else stopped whatever they were doing and stared. At me. Not at the maiden in distress, ME. I thought she was joking, I thought she was dead, I decided to grab her arm and pull for no apparent reason. I pulled harder, giving it a little shake. Nothing.

Fortunately a teacher wandered by and rescued me from my misery and whisked my stricken girl off to the infirmary. But my humiliation spread like wildfire on that hot summers day. My ears still burn remembering…

Ever since his family thought it would be a great idea to go to California Buffet Jeremy just hadn’t been the same. Asian food never seemed to agree with him anyways, so a buffet full of it was just a bad idea from the start. No one seemed to care what he thought though nowadays, so when he told his family that he’d rather go somewhere else they all just acted as if they hadn’t heard him.

After being absent for 2 days due to food poisoning, Jeremy wasn’t looking forward to going to school. Most kids never look forward to school, but Jeremy had an extra reason that kept him from being excited; even though the sickness associated with food poisoning had wore off, the need to sit on the toilet for hours on end did not. That was probably the most disgusting part about food poisoning, and it was all thanks to the laxatives that the doctor had prescribed.

Arriving at school, Jeremy made sure to catch up with a few of his friends, and then promptly headed for his first period as the bell rang. World History with Ms. Jacklin was Jeremy’s least favorite class, so he was glad that he could get it over with right in the morning. Jeremy picked a seat in the back and quickly sat down, not wanting Ms. Jacklin to catch him before class and tell him about the homework he had missed.

As he sat down he felt his jeans strain on his right leg. His parents made him bring the laxatives to school just in case he needed them, and he wasn’t too used to having prescription bottles in his pocket. As much as he tried to adjust he just couldn’t get comfortable, and he finally decided to slip the pills into his backpack instead of being uncomfortable in a class that he already disliked.

As Jeremy slipped the pills out of his pocket, he didn’t realize that class had already began. The annoyance the pill bottle caused must’ve distracted him. To his prevail, right as he pulled the pills out Ms. Jacklin looked straight at him.

“What are those?” Ms. Jacklin asked with an stern voice.

“Nothing, they are just in case I get sick.” Jeremy replied quickly, not wanting the other kids to know about his bowel problems.

“Oh? Let’s see about that,” said Ms. Jacklin as she quickly walked towards him with a hand put out in his direction. Not knowing what to do, Jeremy forfeited the pills to her. “Laxatives?” She said with a smirk. “Having a little stomach problem?” She finished as some of the kids started to giggle.

“Why didn’t we hang out with Jenna more look at how many gorgeous single cousins and family friends she has!” Asha laughs and pokes me in the side. “Mmm look at that tall drink of water over there.”
“Where, where?” I crane my neck over the tall vase of red flowers adorning the table.
“Table 11, right side.”
I scan the room searching for table 11. My eyes rest on a chocolate brown, wavy haired guy neatly fitted in a pin stripe suit. He turns, stares directly at me and smiles. My face flushes and I dart my eyes back to my table.
“Ohh, someone’s got a smile, don’t ya love weddings!” Asha squeezes my arm.
“Stop it he might see you, I gotta act like that was nothing.” I straighten up in my chair.
“Ladies and Gents, it’s party time!” The MC salsas in a circle. “The bride and groom are going to take some family pictures, followed by their first dance, then the floor is open to party!”
“I am going to the bathroom, this champagne shot right through me and i want to powder up just in case my chocolate friend asks me to dance.” I stand up and pull away my chair.
“ Want me to come?” Asha glances up at me.
“ No,no I’ll be right back.” With a quick glance down making sure my short cotton dress is in order, I stroll slowly towards the bathroom putting an extra swish in my step just in case i was being watched.
After a short and relaxing release in the bathroom stall, I reapply my lipstick, comb my bangs and sniff my underarms.
“Ladies and Gents, the new Mr. and Mrs. Belle are about to take their first dance.” The MC bellows across the mic.
I grab my bag off the sink and push through the swinging bathroom door. As I carefully weave through the tables, waves of faint, muffled laughter float into my ears.
“Pahhahaa”
I whirl around, the woman at table 18 covers her face and jiggles with laughter.I sit the itchy seat covers irritate my thighs, my butt...oh crap!!!!!
“Why is everyone laughing? Man look at your chocolate friend he’s hysterical” Asha raises her eyebrows and looks behind me.
Tears well in my eyes, “My dress it was stuck.”
“Stuck where?” Asha rubs my arm.
“Up there!” I bow my head.