Laughing at yourself is fun…laughing at others is even better...
Now before you skewer me and throw me over an open flame as punishment for that statement, let me explain…
I am not talking about the kind of laughter that comes from watching another suffer at the hands of cruelty or mean-spiritedness. I am talking about watching your dearest friend, who is clearly overserved, try to do the bump and grind on the dance floor with someone who is also overserved. I am referring to watching someone you adore emerge from the ladies room…with her skirt tucked neatly in the back of her tights. I live for those moments, I really do. And I have been the subject of such moments many times in my life. I have laughed at many, and been laughed at by many. In the end, I was always able to laugh right along with the rest of them, noting to myself that someday…someday, it would be their turn. It pays to have a sense of humor and a long memory. You never know when opportunity will present itself.
I remember such an occasion in 1988 or so. I was about 24 years old living in downtown DC, and running around with the world in my back pocket. My best friends and I spent many a night hitting the club scene, dressed to kill and drinking cheap champagne for as long as we could before we poured ourselves into a cab and headed home. Our favorite hangout was an upscale spot along the Georgetown waterfront called the River Club. We owned that joint. We were STARS.
I can remember leaving work, planning my fabulous wardrobe choice for the evening in my mind as I walked the two blocks back to my teeny studio apartment. I was going to look HOT, I just knew it. I walked in the door, poured a glass of wine and jumped in the shower.
Now I know not all of you will remember the miracle of shoulder pads and remember them with quite the fondness that I do, but believe me, I thought they were THE BOMB. No outfit of mine was ever complete without big hair, a short skirt and the biggest shoulder pads I could find (wow, seems not much has changed in my style since then...gotta work on that.) That evening I chose a micro mini skirt, a silk camisole, a pair of stilt heels, and an oversided blazer. My hair was fresh with a spiral perm, so big it needed its own zip code. Oh, I was going to be the envy of every woman, and the object of every man’s desires. As I put on the blazer, I realized that the shoulder pads included inside said blazer were nowhere NEAR as big as was required. I pulled out my bag (yes, bag) of extra shoulder pads, and found a pair of squared off babies that were no less than two inches thick, with Velcro straps, of course, to secure them. I fastened over my bra and camisole straps, and put on the blazer. Another fluff of the hair, followed by a shellacing of Aquanet and I was good to go. Look out world, the Redhead has arrived.
I hailed a cab to my friend Nancy’s apartment, where we met our other two friends. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda had nothing on us, let me tell you. We gave ourselves a standing ovation for our stunning appearance and shared a cab to the River Club, where we simply walked to the front of the line and went in. I always loved those contemptuous looks from the other women forced to stand in line. Full of myself back then? You betcha. I knew everyone. Where is the champagne? We need a few shots…
As the evening progressed, and the bottles of less than vintage champagne were downed, we hit the dance floor. By this point, I was in my element and living the dream. I remember it was warm, really really warm. I took off my blazer and hung it over a railing. I kept dancing – God, this is a great song! Dancing, dancing…what the hell, no one else is dancing now. The music is still playing. Why is Nancy laughing? Wait, people are staring…at me. Wow, I must really be shaking my moneymaker because they look like they may start applauding. Oh, if they only had a pole…then it hit me…
THE DAMN SHOULDER PADS!!!!! I’m out there like Denny Terrio on Dance Fever, without the blazer, and the shoulder pads are bouncing around like freaking waterwings for the entire room to see. All three friends, and several others who were at the bar, are now doubled over laughing so hard I’m pretty sure a couple of them peed just a little. For a moment, I was flushed with embarrassment. I even momentarily thought about just leaving. Damn them for letting me go on like that. I’m mortified, completely humiliated…eh, I would have done exactly the same thing to them, so who am I to point fingers? I grabbed my blazer, took a bow, and headed back to the bar. I was sure a bottle of champagne with my name on it was waiting for me. It did take months to live down that moment. It has never been equalled, but hope springs eternal.
Since then I have had my share of finger-pointing moments at the expense of a friend who was forced to suffer as I did. All in good fun. No one was hurt, no one had to go into therapy, no one committed a felony as revenge. Life should be full of laughter and memorable times. In the end, those are the moments we will remember with great fondness, and chances are we will wonder why didn’t put ourselves out there more, and laugh even louder.
Because the fact is, if you can't laugh at yourself, then how can you laugh at others with any honesty or conviction?
I might have just peed a little.
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