A Smokin' Speech

While driving the other day, I was scanning through my dusty, dictionary-thick memory files of embarrassing moments. I paused on one I hadn't thought of in quite some time. I can't help but laugh over this memory every time it crops up so I will share it in hopes that it might make you laugh well. Besides, it happened like seven years ago, so it has passed the Statute of Limitations on still feeling embarrassed over it.

I was already a seasoned reporter. Hardly anything riled me anymore. I was sure of myself, steadfast and always determined to get the stories and photos that would make people want to pick up the newspaper. I had walked headstrong into hundreds of bloody car accident scenes, stood next to burning buildings, jumped out of a Search and Rescue helicopter, swam with great white sharks, okay maybe not that, but you get the picture.

And, then, one day, my crazy editor asked me to fill in for her at an event being held at the local high school by the AAUW - American Association of University Women. "They'll be expecting me and I need to get this paper out," she said. "Just tell them you are there in my place."

"Do I have to do anything? What event is it?" I asked.

"No, no, no," she said annoyed and shoeing me away. "Just show up at 6 and listen to the speakers. It's some speaker thing. I just promised I'd be there. Just be sure to say you are there in my place."

It was around 4:30 p.m. that day when my pager went off for a house fire. I rushed out to the location, about a 40-minute drive into the middle of nowhere, where I quickly snapped photos of a giant barn burning to the ground. I stank like smoke and had soot on my shoes, jeans and face by the time I left the scene at around 5:45 p.m. Yes! I was too late to attend that stupid AAUW thing.

I arrived back in town around 6:15 and stopped at a payphone to call my crazy editor to inform her that I was too late to attend the event because of the fire. And, besides, I smelled like smoke and was covered in soot. "You're not too late," she said. "You can still make it. Just walk in and take a seat in the back, but be sure to tell the ladies running it that you are there for me, okay?" Wow. This really sucked.

It was 6:30 by the time I walked into the auditorium, a half hour after the event started. As soon as I came through the doors, a woman standing at the back, rushed toward me and whispered, "Oh, Heather, you made it! Great. I was told you'd be filling in for your editor. We saved you a seat. Follow me."

I followed her down the aisle, along the side of the darkened auditorium. Suddenly, we were standing at the foot of the stage. "There's your seat," she said, before hurrying off. Oh my God. I looked to where she had pointed. To my horror, she had pointed to the stage where one woman was giving a speech at the podium and five others were seated on the opposite side of the stage. There were two empty chairs. The spotlight was on the speaker so I crept up and took one of the empty seats. Facing a full audience, that was thankfully focused on the speaker, I nervously tried to gather my thoughts. My hair was barely still in the ponytail I had done that morning. I had soot on my face and I still smelled like smoke. On top of that, I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Looking around at the other women sitting with me, I realized they were all wearing business suits.

Oh my God. What was going on? Why was I here? Why I seated ON the stage? I was not expected to speak, was I? Surely, my insane boss would have mentioned this. Maybe I was just an honored guest. Maybe I was there to receive an award. But the empty chair next to me had to belong to the lady presently speaking. What was she talking about? What the heck was this stupid event anyway? Who were these people?!

My mind raced frantically. Suddenly I saw and heard the audience applauding. The speaker returned to her chair. Then, I watched the lady who had ushered me to the stage, approach the podium. Oh God.

"I'd like to introduce our next speaker, who made it here in the nick of time," she said, gleefully introduing me and announcing that I was filling in for my crazy boss, although not in those words, of course. Oh God. She just said my name. Everyone was watching me and clapping. I felt my feet slowly taking me the podium. What was I supposed to say? Why was I here? Who were these people?!

I could still smell the smoke oozing from my t-shirt as I peered out at the stunned audience, which by now had ceased clapping as people stared at my disheveled appearance. I stared back, half-blinded by the bright, hot, spotlight. They continued to stare. Oh God. I have to say something. What should I say? I scrambled to grab hold of any complete, sensible thought. Okay, at this point, ANY thought would do.

"Uh ... uh. Hi."

They were still staring, at first silently, and then I could hear whispers as they were trying to figure out why I was standing there staring back at them from the podium where I was obviously supposed to be giving a well-planned speech.

"I just came from covering a fire," I squeaked. "I didn't know I was speaking tonight. I am sorry. I have nothing prepared."

The whispers grew louder as I hurried back to the seat to endure another agonizing 45 minutes of sitting on the stage as the other women spoke. As I was leaving, praying I could mercifully slip unnoticed through the exiting crowd and out the only entrance, I heard a loud, screeching voice from behind.

"Oh my! You poor thing. You poor, poor dear! Oh, goodness!"

I turned to see a local school teacher, who was obviously trying to comfort me.

"Oh, you poor girl. Did no one tell you that you were speaking? My heart went out to you. You just stood there like a deer in the headlights, like you didn't know what to say. Oh, you poor dear. You just looked so stunned and confused."

Okay, I had just experienced this a few moments ago. I wasn't really ready to relive the horror just yet, especially in front of all of the people exiting around us. "Thanks, Mrs. Keeley," I said. "I'm okay. Really."

"Are you sure? I just wanted to run up on stage and hug you! You poor, poor girl. I have never seen that happen to anyone before except in the movies! I felt so bad for you!" she continued.

This really wasn't helping. All I craved was the dark solitude of my car. "Thanks, Mrs. Keeley. Really. I'm fine. I've gotta go."

Everytime I ran into that teacher around town after that, which happend quite often since it was a small town, she would launch into the same tirade of "Oh, you poor girl. I remember that night how stunned you were in the spotlight ..."

Even years later! Out of nowhere, her loud screeching voice would crop up. No "hello," no "how have you been?" Just, "Oh lord, remember that night ..." At Wal-Mart, the local 7-11, the gas station, parades, and so on. After a while, it hit me that I had lived through a movie-like embarrassing moment, creating a story that would be told for years, possibly decades to come. And, since Mrs. Keeley was a local teacher, I am sure many school children have heard the tale. Have you?