There was a (rather embarrassing) moment when I first moved here to Florida, right after Frozen premiered and everyone was singing ‘Let It Go’ and playing it on mainstream radio stations. I was sitting at a stop light (which on Disney property can mean you spend anywhere from half an hour to a half century waiting for it to turn green) with my sunroof open, because in Florida there’s actually a purpose for a sunroof.
My favorite radio DJ (yes, I have a favorite) had just put ‘Let It Go’ on the radio, and it was blaring through my speakers. I was feeling free, having just gotten off from work, and I just needed to belt it out as loudly as possible. And I thought since all of my windows were closed, no one could hear me and it would be fine. I can deal with people staring at my epic drivers-seat dance moves because they can’t hear the sound of a strangled cat dying inside.
But I forgot about that dang sunroof.
And so as I sang my heart out with just as much passion (if not as much talent) as Idina Menzel, the vacationing family beside me in their snazzy blue convertible began to cheer. And as I uttered my last dramatic ‘THE COLD NEVER BOTHERED ME ANYWAY’ they began to clap.
I don’t think I’ve ever been that red in my life. I was just praying for the light to turn green because I knew I sounded like a leaking balloon.
I don’t remember what they shouted at me, but it was nice and encouraging of them, and I chose to believe they were laughing with me and not at me.
And because this is my one-year anniversary of living in Florida, I’ll share another embarrassing moment. Ready? Ok.
I had just gotten my new bike to cruise around town with, right? And I bought a bright shiny vintage gold bell to ring. I love that bell.
I rang it so many times the lever began to stick and sometimes the hammer wouldn’t hit the bell, leaving me to screech unattractively as I rounded corners, squeaking out, “Pardon me! Excuse me!” as I veered into the grass.
And I’ve become so accustomed to ‘kitchen language’ that my instinct upon approaching a strolling couple was to yell, “HOT BEHIND!” as I rolled past. Because in a kitchen, that’s normal lingo. ‘Hot behind’ and ‘Sharp behind!’ are common phrases to warn someone that there’s a searing hot pan of potential death behind you, don’t move.
The couple stared at me like I was nuts. I just grinned as if I were Audrey Hepburn and rolled on down the road until I realized how that must have sounded. And then their befuddled faces made sense. Note to self: Don’t use kitchen lingo in the streets.
I was not commenting on their attractive behinds.
But hopefully they took it as a compliment, because otherwise… talk about awkward.