Friday, November 18, 2005

Aunt Flo, Uncle Murphy, and Jen Buchwald's Fantastic Four-Star Wedding

On the last 48 hours of Semester at Sea .. while our baggage was stowed away in the bottom rungs of the ship for the poor stewards to then affix US Customs tags ... my period had decided to strike. Not an uncommon occurrence in CourtneyMiller land, for my womanly excretions like to take place at the most inopportune of times, like on an El Al flight to Tel Aviv. In this case, much like my experience in India a few years ago, I had no luggage, no emergency stash, the campus store was obliterated, and I was stuck in the middle of the ocean ... with one of two options. Either ask them to make a public announcement in the search for feminine products, or rip a rag. I'll let you decide which adventure I chose.



Now fast forward to a few weeks ago, on the eve of Jen Buchwald's much awaited wedding at the Beverly Hills Four Seasons. Thankfully, my friend Marisa had rolled into town ... (yes, after our infamous Juliet and Juliet affair in high school, we can now be seen together in public without the rents' approval) and helped me find the most perfect heels and handbag for this beautiful, vintage pepto-bismol pink dress I had borrowed from a just-engaged friend, Kim Richey. It was subtle, elegant. And of course, what better way to say "I'm off to the Four Seasons" than to top off my sophisticated outfit with some earrings my friend An had just brought back from Sri Lanka while there for the relief efforts. Perfect.



All in agreement that we wouldn't drink and drive, Jason and I (Dave got a case of the pink eye) decide to meet at Brian's place ... thinking that we can all cab it from there. I manage to get in and out of my jeep in the heels ... which was no easy task when you're talking a Wrangler with snow tires. Head up to Brian's condo, and sip on a few drinks while we wait for the big yellow taxi. Now, mind you, this ain't NYC ... so you have to play this call and wait game. So, we're waiting. I start blabbing, telling Jason about this time we went to a party in the desert, and how pissed I was that Brian, in his cargo pants with five thousand pockets, wouldn't hold a goddamn tampon for my friend Clare ... who was wearing spandex. (I was wearing a skirt with no pockets.) Which meant we had to take turns holding it all night like it was a cellphone.

So I tell this story, thinking I'm so funny for embarrassing Brian yet again about his girlie product phobes ... then I go into the bathroom to fix my lipstick ... and BAM! Karma strikes. What are the odds I would randomly start a week early? Of course, I have no 'emergency' with me because I have the miniscule perfect handbag that barely fits my nextel tanker. And I don't have time to run to the drugstore because the taxi is on the way, and Brian gave them his home number instead of a cell.

We wait, 20 minutes go by. Jason, 'the concerned gay guy', brings me a wad of paper towels, in the event that I feel like constructing an adult type, bullet-proof diaper. I decline, crossing my fingers that the cab will get there, and use a small supply of kleenex. Another 20 minutes go by, we are now definitely late for the wedding .. then the cab finally calls, we jump in, and we're off.



We have a 10 minute argument in the cab as to whether or not we should stop at Rite Aid. I decline, we roll up to the valet, everyone jumps out, and Brian and Jason run into the wedding line while I run to the concierge, Jason giving me a hug for good luck. I wait, while the kid in front of me mumbles for about 3 minutes, the cute, Australian concierge finally saying "I'm sorry, 'sir', I just don't understand what you're asking." He shakes his head and walks off, then the girl turns to me. "How can I help you?" she kindly asks. I blush. Look her straight in the eye. "You're not going to believe my luck," I say, raising an eyebrow. She turns her head, slightly, immediately getting the unspoken "it". She reaches over the counter, "you didn't," she says, as if we are speaking some sort of womanly code they teach us while the men of society are taken into their secret meetings of learning how to pee standing up.

She whispers into the other consierge's ear, who just so happens to be another young, attractive girl ... then she goes into the back, and comes out with a fancy bag, "Four Seasons" emblazoned across the front in foil letters. I walk back into the restroom, produce the contraband from the glamorous bag ... and manage to get to my seat before the procession starts. Whew.



The ceremony, arguably the most beautiful display of flowers this side of Butchart Gardens, ends .. and we are whisked off into the reception. Full sushi bar, fine wine, lots of dancing/floating chairs and a FULL band ... arguably an event so damn fabulous it deserved its own paparrazi (I want Buck to plan my wedding). About every hour or so, I discreetly dismiss myself from the par-tay and visit the ladies room .. where I have various conversations with drunken bridesmaids and older jewish women, while tending to the problem. The restroom has a full vanity display ... with perfumes, chocolates, and you guessed it. In all shapes and sizes.



Sometime towards the end of the night, Brian decides to leave the wedding to head to a co-worker's nearby party. Jason and I catch a cab, we get back to the street in front of Brian's condo ... and then I realize it. I left my apartment keys and my cell phone on Brian's coffee table. I try to call him from his callbox, no dice. So I drive home ... try to wake my roommate Steve (who sleeps with earplugs) for about twenty minutes by banging on his windows and ringing the doorbell. Again, no luck. It's 3:45 am ... and freezing. I'll try a neighbor, I decide. And if that doesn't work, I'll head for my jeep.

So, around 3:48 am, I knock on the door of my neighbor, Michelle. (At that time, we were practically strangers but have become friends since). She finds me on her doorstep, in my pink dress and heels, and graciously lets me in. She gives me some scrubs to sleep in, offers me some food, and then prepares a makeshift bed for me on her futon that was so white and plush it deserved it's own pillow menu. About 4:30am, we finish talking, and decide to go to bed, along with her cats and bunny.



I feel like I'm in fluffy heaven, and quickly fall right to sleep. About an hour later, I wake up in a panic. "Oh no," I think to myself. What am I going to do about the situation down there, as I lie in this bed of WHITE fluff! I tip toe into her bathroom, take a quick peak around her cupboards. I don't see any stash. Yikes ... what to do. She said to wake her if I need anything, but she was just being nice, I'm sure. And I already showed up in the middle of the night on her doorstep asking for shelter, so the last thing I want to do is wake her ... to steal her tampons.

Okay ... phone. Yes ... I can use the phone now and wake up Steve. I call, no answer. I can hear the message myself from upstairs, and so can my cats who now jump into my window, but Steve can't because of his earplugs. Damn it! Alright, one more time ... I decide to knock on his window. I tiptoe out of Michelle's apartment (to not wake her or the bunny), knock on the window. I'm seriously starting to contemplate walking to Rite-Aid for some supplies .. when voila, Steve answers the door!!! "What the ..." he begins to say. "Don't ask," I shake my head, run to the bathroom, then jump into bed, gently setting down my pile of pink dress and gold accessories.

2 comments:

juleemod said...

Oohhh, I can here Deb now about this...

Michelle Sonneberg said...

As the kind neighbor who took Courtney in, I'd just like to say that I SO would not have been upset if I was woken up for a tampon emergency. Courtney, being the polite and gracious gal that she is pulled what my friends would call a Michelle (will post blog to explain what a "Michelle" is).

Long story short, I can't believe you thought I would have been mad if you woke me!

PS before I got into bed (although slightly intoxicated) I distinctly remember saying "Wake me up if you need ANYTHING!"

Anyway, if anyone ever needs a tampon in the future, ive got plenty (and at least one extra for not having to give one to Courtney!)