The live auction had started. My husband and I, as well as our 8 guests, were sitting at a table in the back, listening as the bidding wars began. It was the event I had been co-planning for a year, and everything was going along swimmingly.
A side conversation was emerging at our table, focused on the recently-discovered phenomenon that there still existed places in America where people could exercise or swim nude.
Somehow the conversation escalated quickly, and our guests were making jokes I’m sure you could imagine on your own.
Contributing to the the revelry, my husband waved his bidder paddle in the air in jest, affirming the hilarity of the situation.
Except he did bid.
The auctioneer raised his light saber and exclaimed, “$10,000, do we have another?!”
My impulse reaction was to punch my right fist into his chest. Right there, in front of our guests, I had flailed my arms quite violently and should have been embarrassed by my display of emotion. But I didn’t have time to process that. I jumped up and in front of the room of about 750 people, many of whom I know and/or report to, I had to wave my arms in a dramatic horizontal motion to indicate that the bid hadn’t been intentional.
It was a weird wrap-up. I had to apologize for punching his chest. We had to explain the whole nude swimming/exercise thing when approached about the mis-bidding. We had to bounce off jokes about what could have been a great tax write-off.
Naked people always seem to get me in trouble.