New Year's Eve-1995

Seventeen years ago?  How is that possible?  I just have to move on...

On New Year's Eve, 1995 we rented a limo with my dear friend Lee and her then paramour, Bill.   We had no specific destination, our intention was to drive around to various locales and celebrate.  There are two fabulous stories that arose from this fantastic evening.  In order..

Crystal Storage

Our first stop was to Clyde's in Tysons Corner for a drink.   At some point we realized, either before arriving or shortly thereafter, that although we had champagne in the car, we had no glasses.  It was reasonable to assume that the car would come with glasses, but it did not, so we were stuck.  A few drinks into the evening and about to head out to the next spot, I decided I would handle the problem and grabbed two champagne flutes from the bar and tucked them down into my sides via my blouse. I was wearing something conducive to this--don't try to work our the physics of it in your mind.

A few days later Bob tells the end of the story like this...."Imagine my utter delight when we were settled in the limo to see my wife reach into her cleavage and produce not one, but TWO champagne glasses!"   It must be an image that is seared onto the brain.  I'm pretty magical like that.


Walk With Confidence

Lee's lovely ensemble for this celebratory evening involved the velvety dress you see here.  It was short and she looked great. 

Many hours and many cocktails into the evening, we stop at the Washington Hilton to run in and tinkle.  They guys are in the limo outside and we are staggering through the lobby to the ladies room trying to not look totally idiotic.   Once in the ladies room and in our respective stalls, this is what happens:

Lee:   Oh my God, my dress is ripped.
Di:  Where?
Lee:  Up the back.  The middle seam.
Di:  How'd you do that?
Lee:  I have no idea.
Di:  How bad is it?
Lee:  I can't tell.
Di:  I'll check it in a sec.
Lee:  OK

We finish up our business.  We exit our stalls an she turns around backside to me and tries to look over her shoulder down at her own ass which every sober person knows is a physical IMPOSSIBILITY.  So, its left to me and I assess (pun intended) the extent of the damage.  Now, in my defense, I am drunk.  Pretty blindingly drunk.  I honestly don't think I even really looked.  I just took a glance and it looked fine to me so I then uttered the words that have haunted me for years "Its fine.  Just walk with confidence."

We then saunter through the packed hotel lobby and back to the car and continue our evening.  I don't remember where we went after this or what the extent of the subsequent exposure was.   The full horror of what I'd done was not yet revealed.

The next day, I awoke at approximately 3pm.  Hung over.  Not remembering much after midnight.  A short while later the phone rang.  I answered a croaking "hello" to which I received the response, a lighthearted "YOU BITCH!"   What had I done to deserve this from my dear friend?  After she'd awoken, and being much more able to handle her booze than I, she had a clear recollection of the dress tearing.  And of our discussion in the bathroom at the Hilton.  And of my assertion that it was FINE.

Turns out, the dress was ripped from the hem, clear on up to the waist where the base of the zipper began.  All the way.  Wide open.  And what's worse?  Well, let's just say that her undergarments were sparse.  Very sparse.

We've laughed about this for years.  And what's prompted me to find those photos and jot this down?
This morning, my Facebook Wall was adorned with a Happy New Year greeting from Lee that said...

Happy New Year!  (Walk with confidence!)