Himself and I celebrated our anniversary, eighteen years thank you, at a fabulous restaurant on the bay. Himself reserved the best table in the house, and we both enjoyed watching the sun go down, glowing through the fog, casting a great light on the moored boats. This restaurant has an extensive wine menu, which while it is thrilling to read, immediately intimidates me. Knowing one bottle of wine would not be enough, though not wanting to pay for two, and knowing two bottles would be more than we could drink in one setting, and be able to drive home, I came up with this clever option. Himself ordered a beer, and I ordered a glass of Tolosa No Oak Chardonnay. Now I consider this wine to be above my “everyday” wine drinking price point, but it was one of their “house wines”. For dinner, we chose Rombauer Chardonnay. Himself enjoys red wines, and I love the smell and taste of reds, but my stomach does not. Thus, we had just enough glasses of wine for the evening!
The prior paragraph has nothing really to do with this post, but I'm hoping for wine sponsors! Back to the post:
While Himself and I talked about our lives and the kids, he reminisced on one of my more embarrassing moments that happened right there, in that same restaurant, years ago. As the years have passed, this embarrassing moment has become humorous even to me, so I will retell it here, in the hope that it will be therapeutic for my psyche.
Back when I worked a real job, in a law office no less, the partners would hold an annual Holiday Office Dinner at a nice restaurant for partners, staff and their significant others. One year, they decided this particular restaurant on the bay would be perfect for a December dinner. Himself and I got a sitter, dressed up, and looked forward to an evening of really good food, and expensive wine. One of the partners was a total wine guy and loved to share his knowledge, and the firm’s expense account, on good wine.
My dress-up attire for that night was a silky camisole, a full-length silk wrap-around skirt, black stockings and heels. Wine was ordered, but before it arrived and I had a chance to touch my lips to the glass, a few of us ladies went to the restroom.
Now, because it was the holidays, and larger groups were dining out that night, many tables had been put together for these large parties. These large parties were skewed towards the large bay view windows, leaving a large space in the middle of the room. Which was good for everyone walking to the restroom and the waiters. Most everyone in that particular area of the restaurant could easily view whomever walked through that area, unless they were seated with their back to it.
Be patient, I’m setting up the scene so you can truly appreciate what happened next.
After two of the women at our table left for the restroom, I decided I should probably take that opportunity as well, before appetizers arrived. So, I got up from my chair and proceeded to walk through the large open area towards the restroom. I felt my right shoe snag a bit and I looked down to see silky fabric puddled on the carpet around my feet. Crap! Is that my skirt? I quickly bent down and grabbed it up. Note: I don’t wear underwear with my pantyhose and these were shear ones- all the way up shear ones. I pulled my skirt up, bunching it around my self best I could, while bee-lining it to the restroom.
Opening the restroom door with my shoulder (both hands were occupied holding slippery fabric), both the wife of one of the partners, and a fellow paralegal, were washing their hands. “What the...?” was pretty much what I remember hearing as I began to quickly rewrap my skirt around me - with this full wrap-around skirt I must open it all the way up, align the back seam, and then wrap it around me. So, yes, I was completely naked from the waist down, except for very sheer, non-control top, pantyhose. I started to seriously sweat while I redressed myself in the restroom answering their questions of when I noticed my skirt had fallen off.
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| Okay, this isn't me, it's Miss Universe 2001. Apparently, she just hustled off stage and didn't even pick up the skirt. Just left it laying there,alone, on the runway. |
“Your skirt fell down, all the way to the carpet? Didn't you feel it slipping? You had to bend down to pick it up?” Partner's wife seemed empathetic, but was muffling her giggles.
“Yeah, and right in the middle of the room.” I think I was smiling by now.
“Wow, I wish I had a photo of that!” This came from a co-worker, and not, apparently, a friend.
They left the restroom laughing.
I wasn’t sure how to return to the table. My body was in fabulous shape back then (if I do say so myself, and I do), and my legs looked great, so there was that. Had my skirt fallen off today, well, for one, I would have been wearing control top pantyhose and not so much would have been out there for all to see.
When I gathered my courage to return to the table, I was sure I would have had some stares or comments, at least from our table. The partner’s wife had returned to the table just before me and had remarked to Himself, and the rest of the table, that she didn’t know I had such great legs.
"Huh? What did we miss?" "What happened?" "Your skirt fell off?" "How did your skirt fall off?" and..."Damn, I missed that?"
As I relive that night, I am thankful I had not had anything to drink yet, as I am not so certain I could have gracefully managed to (1) not trip over the skirt, and (2) grab it in one try and arrange it around myself.
I am not convinced that my show went unnoticed. I am fairly sure someone at the other tables saw me do something. Perhaps I was so lightening fast that no one saw me bend over and pick my skirt off the floor, in the middle of the room? Okay, perhaps...And just as I assure myself that no one saw it, you know I’ll be in some kind of social situation and someone will share that they saw this hilarious thing happen to a woman while they were eating dinner, many years ago...I just hope they share that she had great legs!
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