Show Up

Remember how I was talking about those Christmas parties? I went to the fancy one, discovered the Vanilla Melonball beverage, and still made it home safely.

I made friends with the servers walking around with trays of finger food.

I remained in my seat while my "plus one" made friends with every person in the room. I knew I brought the right girl.

I skeptically ate my cold penne Alfredo which had been sautéed in front of me not 60 seconds ago.

My friends told me not to trust the valet parking and so are parked on the street. There was room since everybody else felt trusting that night. Added bonus: I didn't have to ask the valets awkwardly for change for my 20 to tip them, or worse: I didn't have to accidentally forget to tip them and start feeling bad once I remembered halfway home.

There was a McDonald's right across the street in case the food stunk any more than it did. - the finger food really did make the cut though.

And my coworkers spent a good deal of time outside smoking so I spent a good deal of time by myself, and also in the photo booth with my friend. We got a plethora of fun pics, running out at the end of each session and asking the guy Manning the booth, "can we go again??"

The curls I had given my "plus one" had fallen before we got there but she loved them anyway, and one of my coworkers trusted me enough to clip in extensions and give her an updo even after I had done a mediocre dye job on her hair a few months ago.

I got bored at one point and started taking artsy fartsy pictures of the decor: the centerpieces, the wallpaper. The staff probably thought I was either casing the joint or trying to steal their ideas and make my own Ballroom business.

I'm glad my boss paid for me to attend, and I'm glad I paid for my "plus one" to attend. I got my money's worth because she had a blast, and my boss got his money's worth just because I showed up.

Sometimes you just gotta show up.