The idea about writing a blog has been swirling around my mind for quite some time now. Today’s the day I decided to give it a shot. So here I am, sitting on my bed, my legs crossed, my hair in a bun and my fingers stretched and ready to mingle!
So with the idea about writing formed and my blog launched I had to conquer probably the most important battle I would face. First post. First entry. Something interesting and lighthearted. An image of what this blog would be about. And then it hit me like a bird that rammed into my window three days ago. Why not start with the most embarrassing, the most cringe worthy moment of my life?
Well, here it goes.
Last weekend I was on an Eho conference, surrounded with young people like me who were ready to pray and praise God and feel happy and accepted. And I did feel all of the above. I was happy and accepted(for who I am which is a rarity).
It’s a two-day conference, yeah? We’re staying in a lovely hotel. And the first day is over and I’m in my room, showered, in my PJ’s, talking to my roommate. TV’s chirping in the background and suddenly, there it is. An oh-so-familiar sound of Facebook messenger buzzing on my nightstand. I take my phone and see that it’s my friend who I’ve come to the conference with. She answered my previous message asking what her roommates are like. You see, we weren’t placed in the same room so that we’d meet more people. And she tells me that the girls she was supposed to be in the room with wanted to be in the room with their friend who came with them and so they switched. My friend ended up in a room with two other girls, but they had to leave and so she was left alone. I told her that me and my roommate would come to her room so that she’s not alone. But my roommate decides that she wants to stay alone and even after long time pursuing her to come with me she stays.
And that’s when it all starts.
It’s half past 11 PM.
Everyone is already in their rooms(or so I thought).
And I, so naively, decide that I don’t have to change to go to my friends’ room.
Here’s the thing. The rooms in the hotel are strangely placed. There are two wings and in every wing there are three floors. And the lower numbers are on the top floor. Nothing too complicated.
My friend is the a room 67. I’ve been there. And it’s not quantum physics finding it. I remember the huge mirror, I remember the white couches in the hallway sitting room. I remember going up one staircase.
And so I’m on my way.
I’m wearing my baby blue Pj’s. I have my boots on(at least I zipped them). I put on my coat, it’s unbuttoned. My backpacked is swinging on my right shoulder and my bag on my left. I’m holding my phone in one hand and my sweater in the other.
And slowly, but efficiently I am making progress towards the room.(or so I thought)
I go up one staircase.
I pass the mirror.
And then I see them.
Couches. With. People. Sitting. On. Them.
I am aware of two things.
One, I look like a small duck wading through the mud, carrying a car, a bicycle and a baby elephant.
Two, I have to walk pass those people, most of which, of course, are guys. Cute ones at that.
I suck in a breath. I close my eyes for a second, hoping to open them to an empty hallway.
And I walk pass them, wishing not to trip.(I don’t, luckily)
I can hear their conversation dying down a bit as I walk by, looking at the room numbers.
61, 62, 63, …. 66
And that’s it. No. More. Rooms.
I don’t know which option would be less painful. Falling into a volcano or walking past those people looking like I do again.
I am lost. In a fairly small hotel, I managed to get lost.
I turn around and, check this out, walk up to them.
“Excuse me, do you know where room 67 is maybe?”
Yes. That is me talking. I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s going around my head that makes me want to embarrass myself further.
They look at me, waving their heads no.
I nod and mutter a thanks and am almost on my way when the cutest guy there jumps to his feet and smiles saying he’d help me find it.
For a second I’m shocked because last year I fell in a tram with my arms full of bags. There was me and five guys there. They all laughed. None of them helped.
He is talking.
There are these plates that tell you which way to go, we just have to follow them.
He is tall and is walking gracefully and I am… well… a duck..
And I can see the plates and I wonder why, oh why, haven’t I follow them before?
He is sweet and nice and probably thinks I’m fourteen like most people do.
I am blushing so much my face feels like I’ve been sitting directly in front of a fireplaces for three hours straight.
He smiles as I mutter a thanks and hopefully smile back(I don’t remember.)
And I hurry off,climbing up a staircase not far from the white couches and I can hear his friends tease him and perhaps make fun of me, but I don’t hear them as I basically run to the room.
When my friend sees what I look like she laughs for fifteen minutes straight and when I tell her what happened she laughs for ten more.
The point of this story is that small things like that one are regular occurrences in my life. I often start a conversation with a ‘You won’t believe what happened to me’. I decided to share those if only to find out that there are more people like me and that I am not alone. And perhaps to find more people who are struggling with how-to-adult.
And here it is.
My first post.
I hope you liked it. I hope you sympathize with me.
Please leave your embarrassing story in the comments and join me on this journey.
Yours truly,
clumsy little duckling.
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