Rotten Apples

Daily writing prompt for August 9th was Not Lemonade:

When life gives you lemons… make something else. Tell us about a time you used an object or resolved a tricky situation in an unorthodox way.

Well, to begin with, life has always given me rotten apples and they are only good for shooing away people. What?! Somehow, this one time I was given one rotten apple, and I almost ate it.

It was 2009, a beautiful night in Norfolk, Nebraska, where I was going to college at the time. The Homecoming King and Queen game and dance were being held that night and in the evening, I went to the basketball game with my gang of friends—Mel , Mercy, some other friends—and, we headed to the after party that was held at the college Lifelong Learning Center hoping for a fun night filled with excitement. It wasn’t the greatest party, because the lady boss that I worked for on campus was at the place monitoring the students and the event since it was organized by her department; I had to manage my image—at a college party. The music was alright, but the place was jam packed with the kids that lived on campus as well as off campus showing up for numerous reasons. I was having a good time with my friends and I never missed an opportunity that involved dancing. I am not the wild-party-type of person, but I love dancing way too much since I was young. On the list of things that I cannot live without, dancing would probably rank somewhere between number 1 and 3.

Back to the story, the DJ was playing some good music and I got on the floor in seconds with my girlfriends. We all had one thing in common; we liked to have fun and dance. The night turned even better when the guy I liked back then showed up to the party. Woo, all the more reasons to play it cool and create a great impression. Cute dress checked, cute shoes checked, my make up was still good, and I had my girls to boost me with the confidence. Perfect!

“Don’t screw it up.” I sent the command to my brain.

All good, for now.

As the DJ kept on playing, I danced with my girls and pretended as if I wasn’t paying attention to the ridiculously handsome guy who was watching me—who, I actually was checking out the whole time while dancing. I tried to send him the signals with my eyes—which normal, sexy girls are masters at doing and I am not—, batting eyelashes and smiling that usually lure in the opposite gender like the beautiful pitcher plants that absorbs insects. It all seems easier in the movies. However, it was working and I was showing off all the sexy moves I had and having a great time with my girls, chose to make it even more fun.

I felt my leg twitching and my knee almost twisting, taking a 160 turn and I lost my balance and the next thing I knew was I am lying on the freaking dance floor like a drunkard—and, I wasn’t even drunk!
“Thanks, life!” I screamed in my head, not out loud. After all, the guy was still watching and I had to play it classy.

My whole life was at stake, my potential future lover who’d father my children was watching, my dignity was diminishing by seconds and I was getting pissed because life chose to give me a rotten apple instead of a watermelon or something. I had to do something.

“Alright, I HAVE to play this cool!” I thought.

What a night! Are my talents being tested by the almighty? I better do well, in that case. I pretended as if I fell and was unconscious. Actually, people bought my acting skills instantaneously. My best friend’s boyfriend who was a tall, strong black guy who played in the basketball team quickly rushed to where we were dancing and picked me up like a feather. I saw my best friend and my other friends from the corner of my eye as I pretended to be unconscious the whole time. Meanwhile, by the way, the party was paused by my boss. Everybody—my boss, friends, some dorm kids that knew me well, the security guards—were all following Mel’s boyfriend’s lead who was carrying me away from the crowded, smoky place to an open space in the lobby. He laid me on a couch and my boss sprinkled some water on my face and I pretended that I was responsive and alive by coughing a little and squinting my eyes as if I’m gaining conscious little by little. She asked me if I knew what my name was in the most calm voice and as much as I would have liked to laugh intensely at my boss, I controlled my urge and said, “….Randi”. After I convinced everybody that I probably passed out because I hadn’t eaten anything all day—which was a white lie to back up my wonderful acting performances—I was then let to lay down and rest on the couch until I felt alright to stand up while my friends attended me. I was then taken into my dorm by another sweet guy who was from the multicultural club in the college.

Two hours later, around 12am I sat on the couch in the dorm’s lobby in my pajamas and drank tea with a friend of mine while hearing everybody else’s version of what happened at the party. To date, I still don’t know what got my knees weak. Was it the guy with blue eyes that I liked or was it the life’s call to change my career into acting? I still wonder.


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