It happened Saturday night. AIM threw a Christmas party, something a bit more towards formal but not too fancy. I didn’t bring any dresses with me, but I had found one at Goodwill a couple weeks ago. It was all my favorite colors, and it perfectly matched my blue scarf. So, I put on my Goodwill dress, borrowed a pair of dress shoes from Amie, and let Sydney straighten my hair.
Then we went to the party.
The decoration committee had covered the room in black and then strung up white Christmas lights, feathers, and tree branches. It was fascinating. There was also a little copse of snowy trees with presents under them in the corner.
We walked in out of the cold and took it all in. One of the first things I noticed was how nice everyone looked and how they all seemed to be wearing very neutral colors. Black and white to be specific. “Hm,” I thought. “Must be a Georgia thing.”
We wound our way through the crowd and into the offices in the back where people were having their pictures taken. That’s when a woman came by and laughingly told her friend she was wearing jeans because she didn’t have the right dress. “They said there’s no dress code,” she explained, “just as long as it’s black and white.”
Excuse me?
You mean there was a color coordination plan? Black and white, huh? Oh. So, that’s why no one’s wearing anything bright and vivid tonight.
And there I stood with my straight hair in a pair of borrowed shoes and a Goodwill dress that was all my favorite colors.
I walked back into the main room feeling almost more awkward than any other time in my life. I hardly knew anyone there, and my small list of acquaintances were looking at me like, “Wasn’t your hair different last time I saw you?” and “What are you wearing? Didn’t you read the memo?” It probably was my imagination, but I certainly felt like I was being studiously avoided. Maybe they were just avoiding my dress.
I ended up in an out-of-the-way bathroom with a motion-censored light switch. I positioned myself in the far corner and waited to see how long it would take for the light to turn off. A simple science project to pass the time. Five minutes. That’s how long it takes. Sorry. You’re going to have to come up with your own experiment. It also might interest you to know that the light turns back on if you move your arm in about a quarter circle. Blinking, however, doesn’t do anything.
All in all, it was a rather . . . disconcerting evening. Reminds me of my sister’s song: “Have you ever been in an awkward moment? . . . Cause I have.”
