i was quite nervous and well i should be: the academy awards of chicago. or rather, the Best of the Midwest Awards night!!!!!! notice the caps, i don’t usually roll that way with caps.
this is when everybody in chicago’s independent movie scene gets together for awards and festivities. my f2fb friend #270 mike mcnamara had invited me!!!! to be fair, he had also invited everybody else in chicago, including his 4551 friends. 4550 plus me.
mike and i became facebook friends when i first got on facebook when the network was being opened up to the general public in 2006. we started with five friends and then five friends more.
mike once was in a movie with one of my sons. i knew him personally. but now i don’t. mike is the director of the midwest independent film festival. he’s a big deal. i’m not.
murphy my taxi driver dropped me off. he told me i should have worn the orange ball gown. instead, i wore a black skirt and a black sweater. such a daring choice, miss allegra????
but it was good because i was by myself. my galpal and my backup galpal had both cancelled. i was on my own. and i suck at walking into a party by myself.
yes, i paid fifty dollars to get into the party. yes, i managed to get a drink at the bar. really, i should get combat pay for that. i figured out which guy was mike mcnamara (after a few false starts that were as much of an embarrassment to others as to myself) and yes, i shook hands with mike and just started to say “i’m arlynn presser and i have this new year’s resolution to meet all my. . .”
and he was gone. sucked into the party vortex. murphy texted me. the early text. meant to establish that i’m okay. instead, i texted back. let’s go home. i did it. i shook hands. but i didn’t get a picture. a video. or even a look that said “oh, yeah, i know who you are.”
murphy said no worries.
“that facebook thing is like an address book,” he said. “sometimes it’s so long you don’t remember why you put that girl’s name down.”
he dropped me off but not before a quick stop at the liquor store. i put on my orange gown. my little orange maribou boa. i sat in front of the living room fireplace and drank champagne.
and then i remembered murphy’s last words: “remember, you gotta be up at seven thirty for those kids in the orchestra. ‘member?”
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