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21 May 2005

Polished Lips and Inflatable Zeros

Last night was the prom and all was good, but the night wasn't without its glitches. At 16:05 I arrived at my date's house, flowers in hand, ready for the night to begin. Everything was perfect, except she wasn't home. Every time I knocked on her door, her dog went crazier (and barked louder). I waited there for a good 10 minutes, wondering if she was just running a little late (I hear it's a girl thing). Finally, I decided to go home and call her friend's house; I knew that was where she would be if she were anywhere other than her home.

At 16:20, I got home and ran to the phone. I asked if anyone knew the whereabouts of my date. Yes, they did. She was right there, frantically trying to get nail polish off of her lips (what?). Apparently, they were making some last-minute final touches when they picked up a tube, thinking it was lipstick, and started painting her lips. It was the younger sister who, before things got worse, duly noted that the tube in fact contained nail polish.

After the impromptu delay, the night went on. It began with myriad pictures in front of the weeping willow tree in my backyard (say "cheese"). We went to the school to see the Prom Queen be crowned and then went to my great-grandmother's house on the lake for even more pictures. Our party rendezvoused at a restaurant where we ate (obviously) then stepped into our limousine, which until Thursday was not part of our plans.

We arrived at the prom itself at 20:00 (fashionably late), and one of the first things we saw there was a wonderful ice sculpture that had "Prom 2005" carved out. I took a picture of it. Inside the ballroom on either side of the deejay were a "zero" balloon and a "five" balloon (how appropriate). We started talking and got off on random tangents about the conservation of inflatable zeros and how the Prom Committee should save the zero to use for future proms. Unfortunately, by the end of the evening, the zero's helium was not as it had been and the once upright zero was sulking its zero-head away from the merriment of the dance floor (amazingly interpretive, but depressing and kind of weird).

My date looked so different from her norm that all throughout the night various people passed by her without noticing who she was. One of my friends even looked right at her and asked me if she was a long-distance girlfriend or something. No, it wasn't. Many people tried to get us to dance, but the closest we got was cooperative swaying. We also "square" danced in which we each formed square out of our index fingers and thumbs, held it up, and jumped vertically to the music (we're a silly crew).

I took pictures throughout the event of people I knew (and their dates, of course). Since my dad gave me a film camera, though, I have to go through the pain and agony of waiting for them to be developed (ugh!). I didn't have to wait, however, for our instant key chain portraits. My date and I got our professional pictures taken around 20:45 and by 21:30 I was looking at the picture wondering why it looked odd. I then realized that I had little red dots for pupils and that she had big red dots for pupils (so red, it almost covered her entire eye). I hope the picture people will eliminate that when they print the package.

As exciting as the evening was, by 23:00 we were all tired and ready to go home. I took another picture of the now melted ice sculpture. We all got back into the limousine and drove back toward home. I don't know that I shall ever see my date so dressed up again, but at least now there's proof—and for years to come, we'll have fond memories her polished lips.


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