like sands through the hourglass

I live in fear of playing one of those get-to-know-you games and having to answer the question "What's one of your most embarrassing moments?" When in the rational comfort of my own home, I realize this fear is largely unfounded. Most people creating those ice-breaker exercises have enough foresight to know this is a truly awful question for creating an atmosphere of comfort and safety.

Still, during times of low mental activity - on bus rides, in the shower - my thoughts will place me in this unlikely social situation and suddenly my heart is racing as I relive my truly most embarrassing experiences, trying to think of one that is embarrassing in theory but that I don't mind sharing with others (essentially, one that isn't really embarrassing at all). I feel a compulsion to lock on to some story, so I may have it at the ready. No hesitation. No doubt. I could whip out an embarrassing anecdote that leaves me endeared to others, perhaps even more respected.

Luckily, this week I had a wonderfully embarrassing experience that I've now emotionally distanced myself from. Perhaps it can be my go-to story and I can finally set my mind at ease.

I was in Houston yesterday giving a presentation at a conference. I was on a panel, and one of the panel discussants was the past Poet Laureate for a southern state. Through his presentation, I couldn't help noticing his subtle southern accent. It was beautiful to listen to - I pretty much didn't hear a word he said although I listened to every word he said.

After the presentation we were doing the compulsory shaking hands, congratulations, job well done. Before I could stop myself, I was blabbering on and on to this Poet Laureate about how much I enjoyed listening to his accent. Really, who goes on and on about that on a first meeting? The more I talked, the more desperate the situation became. Grasping for a way out, I heard myself saying, "No, really, listening to your southern accent was like riding on the waves of the ocean."

Where did that come from? Did I really just invoke a metaphor on a poet? And one that involved the waves of the ocean?

He gracefully took his exit by saying "Okay" with distracted finality and turning away.

I swam through seas of tears and ended up at a seafood restaurant to drown my sorrows in a salmon pasta dish. I felt better afterward.