I Get Down on My Knees for You

Picture it: 2006, Overland Park, KS. I'm sitting quietly at one of the tall tables at Quizno's, eating my Turkey Light on wheat with no onions. As I eat, I'm also fishing around in my tank bag looking for my wallet, my phone, and my camera (to review some video I had just taken). I do this for about five minutes when I'm suddenly distracted by a SUPER hot corporate type coming in the door. Black pants, blue shirt, cute-but-subtle faux-hawk. The gaydar is at Def-Con 6. I nod and raise my eyebrows. He smiles, sort of.

I spend a few minutes fantasizing about him (this is all I ever do anymore). Corporate boy is only a couple of feet away from me now, waiting patiently in line for his food. That's when I decide it's time to leave. I stand up and proceed to put on my super cool riding jacket and gather my things. I decide my hands will be too full to carry everything at once, so I strut walk across the room to throw away my trash. After tossing the trash away I turn and approach him. At this point, I am in a full-on puffy chest, peacock feathers flyin' mode. I flash another look (held just a tad too long). He does the same.

Satisfied that I could have him if I wanted him, I grab my helmet and gloves in one hand and tank bag with the other. I give him one last look as I do and %$^*&%#*#$)*&*#@!!! I drop every single item inside my tank bag onto the floor because I forgot to zip it up. One guy in line goes for my Invisalign case, and I dive to my knees to fetch my Gold Bond Body Powder (prickly heat, dammit!) before corporate boy sees it, and I'm on the ground, eye-level to corporate boy's crotch when corporate boy says, "You need any help?"

"Nope," I say, I just forgot to zip up." Oh god. I can't believe I said that. I'm on my knees 12 inches from his crotch talking about zipping up. Nice one. He chuckles, and raises his eyebrows as if to ask me if I knew what I had just said. Unfortunately, I did know, and I knew the best thing I could do a that moment was to grab my itchy powder and run like hell.

Fortunately, by the time I got my helmet on, I felt cool again. It's refreshing to have a healthy denial of your colossal dorkiness. I recommend it.