Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Once, Twice, Three Times A Lady Clown

Somedays you laugh at the clown, and then somedays you are the clown. Last Friday I was the clown.

Last Friday Tiny, myself, and our supervising attorney had a meeting in Baton Rouge. As good environmentalist, we were carpooling. Tiny had offered to pick me up at quarter 'till 8, and then pick up our supervising attorney at 8. We had done this once before, so we were all set to go.

And then on Friday morning I awoke -- at 8:04. Shit. I immediately sat up and began cursing. My alarm clock was blinking, indicating there must have been a power blip that de-set my alarm. I found my cell phone in the next room where five voicemails and 2 text messages were waiting. Shit.


I immediately called Tiny: "Oh my god, have you left for Baton Rouge yet? "
"No," she said "I'm in front of your house."

"Ok, I will be downstairs in five minutes I swear." I turned around and promptly stubbed my ingrown toenail which responded by bleeding. I limped into the bathroom, swaddled my foot in toilet paper and brushed my teeth. I grabbed my shirt and tossed it in the dryer to get most of the wrinkles out -- I had intended to get up early enough to iron it, but it was far too late for that now.

I jumped into my pants and shoved my mummy foot into my heels. I put on my gold loop earrings because nothing camoflages that fact that you got dressed in five minutes better than accessories. I grabbed my shirt from the dryer and managed to button it correctly, then my jacket and sprinted out the door.

We picked up our supervising attorney at 8:30 - I apologized profusely and couldn't look him in the eye. Fortunately, Tiny drives at warp speed and we made it on time to Baton Rouge. We parked and headed into the building, and I noticed that my now bloody toilet paper was making a break from my shoe. I wiggled my toes and managed to stuff it back down out of sight.

The meeting began and I relaxed as I didn't have all that much to contribute. And about an hour into the meeting I noticed that my fly was down. All the way. Hello underpants.

Shit.

I realized that I had greeted some people from my seat as they were standing above me. I'm now quite certain they saw my underwear. All that's left to do is to recitfy the situation without letting on that one has realized that one has made a complete fool of one's self.

As discretely as possible, I scooted my chair under the table and, using one hand, attempted to zip my fly. No good. I brough in reinforcements with the other arm, but these pants don't zip well unless I'm standing. I got the zipper up about half way and then it stuck.

At this time my name tag, a sticky label provided by building security, was disloged by my attempts to zip my fly. It fluttered to the ground by my supervising attorney. I would have had to reach across his lap to retrieve it, so I just let it be. He looked down, thinking it was his name tag that had fallen off, and then slapped it onto his chest. Now my nametag, that also had my picture on it, was gazing out from my supervising attorney's chest.

I finally asked a question of the group about the timeline of events and the room broke up into laughter. Apparently student attorneys don't inquire about when things will be done. Lazy bastards.

A few minutes later my supervising attorney realized that he was wearing my nametag, and peeled it off and handed it to me. The meeting finally ended and our host bolted off to lead us out, while our supervising attorney lingered to chat. I hoped to get out as quickly as possible so that I could adjust my pants in private. By which time it completely wouldn't matter.

Sometimes I wonder what will be the biggest detriment to my future career: my less than stellar grades or the fact that I am a complete clown.


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