I Paid $38 for a Dinner Roll

I hold a world's record. Yes proudly and sadly I hold the world's record for the highest price ever paid for a dinner roll. Not a Picasso, Monet, or Warhol but a puffy slightly stale white roll. It cost $38.00. I'm broken, bankrupt and still hungry. How could something like this happen to the cheapest woman alive? I went to a single's mixer. I have no idea what I was thinking or my better judgment was temporarily corrupted by the outlandish notion that someone would ask me to dance. It was called for 6:00 at a local country club. No one in their right mind arrives at a party at the exact time it starts right? I was born and raised on the "fashionably late" side of life. I surmised my eta should be 7:00. I shaved both legs, wore a fabulous little black dress and whobbled out of the house in my raspberry red Kate Spade high heels for the big event.

Always read an invitation carefully, which of course I didn't. Upon arrival I noticed the woman selling tickets was wearing a cowgirl outfit. "Oh no, was this a theme party?" I cried. She said it was a Texas Hold-um shindig but as I looked into the room thankfully no one was in western gear. I also noticed no one was standing up or mingling, just sitting sedately at tables talking amongst themselves. "Excuse me, but where's the party?" The women pointed to where I was looking. I was tempted to inquire if someone had died before I arrived which cast a pall over the group. I paid the $38 admittance charge asking one last time if I was headed in the right direction. She nodded. I felt ill. As I walked through the room I was certain I was at a wake. These can't be my "peeps" I cried to myself. Btw all the women were blond with life threatening cleavage. Was I in "The Twilight Zone?" "Rod Serling get out here and change everyone back."

I desperately needed a drink and headed to the bar. I plopped down next to a man sitting alone at the far end and quickly pulled out the pen and paper I had brought as a security blanket in case no one talked to me. It was time to write and drink. I spent another $8.00 for the house wine because the $38 didn't cover drinks. I determinedly headed over to the buffet because my ticket had to buy me something. Nope, don't eat meat so the hamburgers were out, as were the greasy acne causing french fries. The fried flattened chicken pieces were looking greenish so ixnay that food group. All that was left was a basket of dinner rolls. I picked one up and placed it on my giant plate. Slightly weak from hunger I walked back to the bar. It was now 8:00 and the room was growing empty. "Wait, I just got here, don't go," I thought about yelling. "I even shaved my legs!" I queried the man next to me who explained everyone arrived exactly at 6:00, mingled at the bar for twelve minutes and then sat down to eat. I think I burst into tears. "Who arrives on time? What happened to fashionably late? It's early and if you all go I paid $38 for a roll!" He tried to calm me down. Three people were dancing which actually hurt my eyes as I watched them. Does rhythm leave your body at 60? By 8:15 we were almost the last two standing or sitting as the case may be.

I walked despondently to my car realizing I should have put at least a dozen rolls in my purse and only needed to shave one leg.