The Week of Love

In honor of the time of year, I thought I'd share some Valentine's Day-related stories this week. However, as with all incidents filtered through me, there will be some caveats.

For the coupled up amongst you, I wouldn't expect too much insight into the world of over-the-top romance. I cringe during proposals on The Today Show or Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve because those moments seems private to me. And the idea of people watching and judging what should be an intimate moment? No, thank you. I don't want to attend your annual physical exam either. I like my sappy moments fictional and created by one Nicholas Sparks. Plus, these days, there's not much I appreciate more than finding out that the dirty dishes have already been put away or that the trip to the recycling center has already been accomplished.

As for the singles, please rest assured I have some tales that will make you only too happy to spend February 14 alone or celebrating with friends or candy, whichever floats your boat.  

To go in what I consider to be reverse order, I thought I'd start with the story of my best Valentine's Day. (Best V-Day before the Significant Other showed up, of course. If confused, please reference previous paragraph about some privacy and intimate moments.)

The year was 1993, I was 13 years old and the Valentine's Day dance approached. I had been to exactly one dance before, but that dance hadn't really counted. (I.E., it wasn't school-sponsored. A friend's mom hosted a dance-themed party for our class in the clubhouse of her condominium complex the year before. While we were all very excited about the concept, no one ended up dancing, and because it was more of a "party" than a "dance," talking our moms into special shopping trips had been a bit of a challenge.)

The Valentine's Dance, on the other hand, was a time-honored tradition for seventh and eighth graders and came complete with shiny cardboard heart decorations, a DJ and teachers-turned-chaperones.

Naturally, I turned all of my attention to the outfit, and after bugging my mother incessantly, we set out for the mall one night after she got home from work. To share with you why this was an even bigger deal for me, let me reiterate what a late bloomer I was. I was the next-to-last girl in my grade to get her training bra, and sixth/seventh grade was just around the time I could finally start wearing "adult" clothes. (Oh, to have the problem of not being able to fit into a size 0 because it was too big, again.) I was stuck shopping in the kid's department for years, and the idea of showing up to a school dance -- of all places -- in an outfit you could also buy in a child's size 6 was too much for me to bear.

In those days, my mother and I always went to Express first because their clothes had a better chance of fitting me. Their outfits came in the now-I-hate-seeing-the-doll-clothes-next-to-my-curvy-body-shapers-built-in-nearly-maternity-style-tops 0/1 size.

Before we even crossed the threshold, I saw it. Sheath dress. Falling just above the knee. Scoop-necked. Black stripes alternating with neon stripes of pink, orange and yellow. (This was 1993.) It was the most beautiful, sexiest (by seventh grade terms) dress I had ever seen. I instantly saw my crush swooning the moment I walked in wearing it.

"Do you think it will fit?"

"We won't know until you try it on," my mother said, and I rushed to the dressing room.

In terms of fit, the dress came pretty close as I remember it. I think my mother and grandmother had to make a few alterations -- most likely taking in the chest -- but all in all, I was in heaven.

The night of the dance, I styled my permed and heavy-banged hair to perfection, zipped up my new and so-bright dress up and topped it all off with a velvet choker that had a single gold heart charm. (For Valentine's Day, of course.) 

Arriving at the dance, I was nervous. But spurred on by my stellar look, I had more confidence than usual. And rather than finding boys on one side of the room and girls on the other, this dance actually had members of the opposite sex talking to one another. When the music started, members of the opposite sex even danced with one another.

Everyone was being very friendly. (When there's only 24 people in your grade, you kind of have to be that way. Private school. Sigh.) As the evening wore on I danced with my crush many times (!!! as my inner-adolescent would say) and a bunch of other boys, too.

But, it was the end of the night that was the most special of all.

"Last song," the DJ called.

It was all coming to an end, and everyone knows the last song at the dance is by far the most important song. (I mean, a last song is all about eternal and ever-lasting love. Marriages and babies are built on who you choose for that last dance. You might as well sign up for adjacent burial plots when you pick that partner for your last dance. Am I right people?)

"What to do?" I thought. People were already pairing off. I turned towards my crush to see what he was doing, and he looked right back at me. He then gave me the shrugged shoulders that mean "Why not? You wanna dance?" in seventh grade boy speak.

I shrugged back. ("Sure," in seventh grade girl speak.)

We moved closer together. He put his arms around my waist, I put my arms around his neck, and with enough room between us for a small person, we danced the last dance of Valentine's Day 1993 to "You're the Inspiration."

I fell asleep all aflutter, dreaming of rock ballads and would could happen at school that Monday. 

I'd like to thank Express and Chicago for making such an incredible evening possible.

Pacific White-Sided Dolphins and Me

Monday afternoon, I took a trip to the Shedd Aquarium in downtown Chicago.

Other than the penguins, one of the biggest attractions at the aquarium is the dolphin show. After all, who doesn't love a good dolphin?And, because most people do love dolphins, it's quite a popular exhibition. My friends and I barely got seats, and once we did, we still had to wait about half an hour for the show to start. So, full of excitement and animal kingdom wonder, I waited for the big event.

Unfortunately, the show was hosted by Alison*, who, clad in her Shedd Aquarium-issued polo shirt and mom khakis, and equipped with a wireless microphone over the ear, leads the audience on the journey into the "mysterious" world of dolphins. (From here on out, all words placed in quotation marks will be Alison's choices and not mine.)

Even though we never actually met and Alison was never less than 20 feet from me -- we did not get along.She opened the show with an intro she must have stolen from an old show on the Discovery Channel, but embellished with what I assume to be a background in amateur theater. (I will say this for her -- someone taught her to enunciate and someone taught her sweeping hand motions.)

Personally, I don't think anyone should be as confident as Alison was when she asked overdone rhetorical questions like "What about dolphins is fact [long pause] and what is fiction? [second long pause complete with meaningful sweeping glance over the audience] And, how do we separate the myth [pause] from the reality?"

Also, I don't think Alison fell into her work. I'm pretty sure it was a life-long dream to lead the aquarium show, and thinking of this made me feel like I did when I learned that being a character at period attractions like colonial Williamsburg and The American Village in Montevallo, Alabama is a coveted job and not something forced upon people by some sort of over-arching, all-powerful historical monopoly or the work of a particularly creative judge in the penal system.

Some people really want to wear pantaloons, use hybrid accents, and explain the process behind shoeing a horse.But, that doesn't mean I get these people.

Anyway, here was one of the "myths" about dolphins:"Some people say that dolphins are aliens." Now, who thinks that is a reality?"

Oh, my poor, disturbed Alison ...Here's my question: Who are these people that say dolphins are from outer space?!?! Seriously, when have you ever met someone in a rational and non-institutionalized setting who claimed to believe that dolphins were alien creatures? Who the hell does Alison hang out with that she hears this? And, if she has never heard it ,but only got her poorly syndicated Jonathan Frakes hosted Fact or Fiction confused with something from the history channel, what makes her think it is reasonable to repeat it as part of an educational discussion on sea creatures?

I don't get Alison either.

*Names have been changed because I'm insecure and non-confrontational.