Tragedy at the Ritz, Part 2 (warning, a lot of reading to follow)

Ok, so I left off my last post describing Anita's entrance into the ballroom for the wedding ceremony. She was absolutely stunning, and I instantly knew she was out of my league. I mean, single ladies at old folks homes were out of my league, so ... you see what I am saying. The wedding ceremony came and went and it was time for cocktail hour. Now, I had a major issue at hand in that I had run of out of cologne and had not put some on that day. So, being the vain and careful graduate of HU (Handsome University) with a degree in Hair Fabulousness, I decided to go to Macy's to buy cologne, bringing my brother Jiby and my friend Steve with me. Remember, the Ritz Carlton was attached to a mall. Like the strong, heterosexual male that I am, I sprayed different colognes on and asked the guys their opinion. After at least 3 or 4 options, our triumvirate decided on Emporio Armani which will hence be known as the new scent of danger.

We returned to the cocktail hour. I, of course, was wearing the new scent of danger. Drinks were consumed, moms were talked to, more drinks were consumed and it was getting close to seating time at the wedding reception. At some point, I was telling my fellow triumvirate members how well the new scent of danger was working on the ladies. My friend and author, Sujatha Hampton, must have overheard the conversation. So she came over and acted like my scent was causing her to heart to go aflutter. Yeah, that made me feel like a douche. Even though she was joking and right, I knew that I needed to tone it down ... that lasted about 5 minutes or until my next drink. I ended up going with a buddy to the bar at Ritz Carlton and seemingly made an ass of myself trying to talk to one of the bride's close friends [at least that is what my buddy told me, since I don't seem to recall that very clearly]. Hurricane Jason seemed to be reaching Category 3 level.

Unfortunately, drinks continued to be consumed, I lost track of my cell phone and camera, yet I felt confident that the new scent of danger would carry me through. On my way to get another drink I noticed "Dog Collar Hot Chick" near the bar talking to a friend of mine. Being the gentleman that I was, I interrupted the conversation and asked the lovely lady: "DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?"
"Dog Collar Hot Chick" continued her conversation with my friend and turned to both of us and said "it was nice meeting you". I remember thinking to myself "jeez, she must be deaf", so I charmingly asked "SO, YOU DON'T WANNA DANCE?" At that point "Dog Collar Hot Chick" thought, "hey, I am new to the area, I don't really want to piss people off, so what the heck?" She agreed to dance with me.

Now I am not a dancing type person, and the hurricane was at about Category 4, but I gave it my all. I channeled my "white guy at a sockhop" and did my best. We exchanged names while dancing and disbelief that I wasn't named "Deepak" and she wasn't named "Jasminder". She even asked to see my license to prove that my name was "Jason". I also found out upon closer review that she was not wearing a dog collar. It was a fashion accessory known as a choker (i know, sounds kinky). I was determined to dance with her the rest of the night and shoved away any potential "cut ins" from other guys (sometimes when I drink too much I have what is known as ADHD or Angry Drunk Hyperactive Drunk syndrome). I found out that she was a Dental Associate at the father of the bride's dental practice and she had just moved to the area from West Virginia. I thought that maybe she was already married ... to her brother, but then I found out she only had one sibling and it was a sister named "Jamie". My sister was also named "Jaime". Crazy coincidence. The alcohol was slowly wearing off and I started to think more clearly. I began to think about why this super hot chick would dance with me the whole night. After using the restroom, I was washing my hands and looking in the mirror like the vain guy that I am while smiling at how good looking I thought I was, when the light went off in my head. She was a dentist and my grill (teeth) was similar to the smile of any member of British Parliament. She must have seen my grill and thought "cha ching, I am going to break the bank with that mess." Luckily, for me, I was just being paranoid.

She had come to the wedding with her aunt and had to leave slightly early. But she ran and grabbed a pen and wrote her number down and gave it to me (which to this day, she says she never did before). I went home that night with the lesson learned that no matter how much of an ass you make of yourself, the new scent of danger will lead you to redemption.