A first for everything.

Awhile back, I wrote a post about being alone and how there are just certain things I would never do. And if there's anything I've learned in my short 39 years, it's never say never (and always lie about your age).

Yesterday, my work sent me to a Communications and Collaborations seminar in downtown Salt Lake. I spent the morning at a table with complete strangers, learning to communicate and collaborate with them. When it was time for lunch, our instructor gave us an hour to fend for ourselves. I was hoping I could convince one of my new-found friends to get a bite to eat with me, but by the time I gathered up my things, went deep-purse diving for my keys and checked my messages, everyone had gone! I was left alone...doesn't anyone else dawdle anymore? What a predicament I found myself in.

So I left the safety of the hotel conference room, and made my way into the scary streets of downtown salt lake. I pulled into the second eating establishment I saw, Wendy's. (The first being McDonalds, need I say more). The drive-thru looked busy, so I went inside and ordered my chicken cranberry salad and rootbeer to go. As I was picking up my fork and napkins, I wondered how convenient it was actually going to be to eat a salad in the car without spilling it's contents down the front of me, and where would I go to eat without being noticed? Pioneer Park was just up the street, but a homeless person upon seeing my delicious salad might try to smash through my car window to get to it. The hotel parking lot was busy with people coming and going and I didn't want anyone thinking I was weird for eating in my car, wondering why not just take it in my room and eat it. (Alot can go through your mind in a few short seconds). So, I took a look around and noticed several other people sitting at their tables, eating alone and I thought, what the heck. There's a first for everything.

I picked a table as far away as I could get, and sat with my back towards the people, so no one could see my face and know my shame. I didn't even have a book or a newspaper to pretend to read while I ate. It was just me and my salad and the window in front of me. I would like to tell you how good it tasted, but I think I inhaled it too fast to enjoy it. I couldn't wait to get out of there. But by the time I finished, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I just ate alone. I survived. I didn't die from embarrasement. A big "L" did not mysteriously appear on my forehead. I was feeling such a boost of confidence by the time I picked up my trash and disposed of it, that I even snuck a glance at a fellow alone-eater and smiled at him. Nothing big and toothy (hint: never give a toothy smile immediately after eating a salad), just a slight smile and nod, as if to say, I've just joined the "Eating Alone Annonymous Club", I see your a member too.

Back at the hotel, I parked next to a car with one of the girls from my table, sitting there, all alone, eating. It's a shame we didn't think to talk about lunch arrangements before we had to eat, each in our aloneness. I guess we didn't learn much those first few hours of our communication class, like how to say "Hey, whatcha' doing for lunch? Want to go grab a bite with me?" We learned how to say that in the second half of our session. Go figure.

Needless to say, I got back to the hotel much earlier and found myself with time to waste. So I sat in my car and pretended to read a magazine, which was actually an old Kohls ad I found shoved under the seat. After a while, I remembered my new brave attitude and went inside with about 15 minutes of lunch to kill so I could sit in the room alone, and be totally OK with it. I had to visit the 'little girls room' anyway. While washing my hands in the sink, I glanced in the mirror, removing any stray pieces of lettuce and cranberries that always seem to get left behind, and noticed a slight bulge in my blouse. Now I'm not overly endowed by all means, and it wasn't until I arched my arms back did I notice that my middle button, the one strategically placed over the center of the bra, was not buttoned! What the crap! When did that happen? How long has it been that way? Have I been sitting in a classroom of people with my underwires exposed? Why didn't anyone tell me!

Oh yeah...I forgot. Communications class. Now I know why they're all there.

And as far as I'm concerned, they all flunked.

As for my unfortunate button incidence, I wish I could say there's a first for everything, (yes, it's happened before) and unfortunately, I'm sure it won't be my last.

And I thought the guy at Wendy's was smiling back at me to be nice.