By Traci Rork
Miss Informed
(6.11.09)
On occasion and for several different reasons, people sometimes fail to make it home at night. Late parties with friends, the unexpected love connection and alcohol are all often to blame for a little phenomenon we know as the walk of shame.
Whether it's a walk, more of a jog or even a scooter ride, spotting someone on the walk of shame in this town is like playing a 3-D version of Where's Waldo. It could actually be a sport. Smeared make-up, crazy bed head and an ensemble not intended for breakfast are dead giveaways that someone didn't quite make it home the night before. More than once, I've seen barefoot girls in their party clothes squinting at the sun and looking up and down Duval Street, trying to remember where their hotel is. Now, the island is only 4 by 2 miles wide, but that sure seems big when people are trying to wander back to where they belong (usually without sunglasses, in some sort of hung over pain and harboring feelings of remorse).
Just on a quick, early morning bike ride for coffee, one can stumble across several people sneaking through the streets trying to get out of their limbo: somewhere between saying goodbye to the night and hello to the morning. One can hope and pray that the morning is the only thing you'll have to greet but in this town that's unlikely so be prepared to die of embarrassment. The path from where you are to where you need to be can seem daunting but gather your belongings, suck it up and get it over with.
People often go on these early morning parades surrounded by the smell of alcohol and cigarettes, wearing the familiar fashions of the evening before, or sporting an oversized shacker shirt that the fellas never ever get back. Sometimes shamers are spotted holding their high heels as they meander home to the sound of the roosters. And on other occasions, they're empty handed as it seems they lost their shoes, along with their purse, cell phones and dignity. This happens on college campuses daily and quite possibly on an hourly basis in Key West, so keep your eyes peeled.
The scooter shamers go by fast but are the best to spot because they offer the most info. You not only get to see "Mary Jane" being driven home early in the morning, but you also get to see who she's clinging to.
And how very nice of the guys who assist the ladies in getting home, but pay attention to the route they choose in doing so. Did they proudly cart you down White Street or were back roads chosen as a means to avoid witnesses? I'm just saying...
Sometimes this dreaded phenomenon takes place after Halloween or Fantasy Fest when costumes come into play. That's when things get really interesting. And just so you know, it's impossible to make it from point A to point B under the radar when you're dressed like Spongebob Squarepants. As far as the spectators go, these are the most rewarding walks to witness or even assist with, as I had the pleasure of doing in college after a Pimps and Ho's fraternity party.
The phone call went something like this at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. "Dude, you so have to come pick me up at the Sigma Chi house -- there is no way I'm walking through the quad in a mini skirt and knee-high boots ... please ... I'll love you forever," my friend Jenny whispered into the phone so as not to wake any of our fratastic friends. Of course I showed up to her rescue and while she appreciated having someone to share the shame with over some laughs, she didn't appreciate me honking the horn while I was out front. It couldn't be helped.
Anyhow, the phrase "walk of shame" is defined as "a phenomenon in which a person must walk past strangers or peers alone for an embarrassing reason before reaching a place of privacy."
Since it's a common situation that many face over time, some crafty creators are marketing "Walk of Shame Kits" with proceeds going to benefit Breast Cancer Foundations. The backpack includes a rolled up dress, flip flops, sunglasses, a pre-pasted toothbrush, wipes, call/don't call leave-behind note cards, and a breast cancer awareness bracelet. Seriously? Who is going to set out for a night on the town with a slut bag strapped to their back?
So now that we've talked about the walk, I propose we all play a little game called the "Walk of Shame Hall of Fame" and start comparing stories.
To further inform Miss Informed e-mail trork@ keysnews.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment