A few weeks ago I went on retreat for work. It turned out to be one big Embarassing Episode, or at least, parts of it certainly felt that way.

Driving to the Poconos for the first time alone, I knew I'd get lost. That was inevitable. I survived the frustrations of having to stop and ask for directions, after stubbornly driving about for half hour, lost and angry at myself.

Finally, I was headed in the correct direction and following signs to the Chalet that had mysteriously and suddenly appeared in plain view. One particular sign said to "Bear left and continue uphill." So I did, and ended up driving up a gravel roadbed straight up and over the mountain. Getting lost in the process yet again. On the other side of the mountain, I found my hotel. I slammed the trunk shut, and billows of gravel dust flew from my car.

I intended to eat dinner alone, but met up with some of my co-workers. In a sense. They were highest ranking individuals in my department, the Assistant Vice President and the Executive Director. For once I didn't wear my dinner or spill anything. But I did remember I'd forgotten my saline solution and my contact lens case at home. Great. It was 10 pm and I would have to go out and buy them so I wouldn't have to sleep in my contacts.

The AVP insisted on traveling with me, so I wouldn't have to be alone at night I suppose. I was nervous as hell. A quiet man, I'm never quite sure of his moods or what he's thinking, and his sense of humor is so dry as to be almost indetectable. And now he was in my car and I was driving to all-night WallMart in only-God-knows-where country because I had to get directions for the third time that day.

While driving, I related to the AVP the story of following my Director to her house, following her little red car. "All the way I kept thinking to myself, 'Don't hit your boss's car, don't hit your boss's car.' And now I'm thinking, Don't kill the AVP, don't kill the AVP."

And I nearly did, at that exact moment, because I didn't see the 18 wheeler to my left as I was coming down the on-ramp.

When I got back to my room, I discovered I did have my saline after all. I didn't tell the AVP.

Figuring that this hotel would supply it's guests with shampoo and such, I had left mine at home. Indeed there was a little bottle marked "shampoo" and one marked "moisture cream" so I figured I was set. Having hair that basically insists I bow down to its each and every whim, I'm very sensitive about what I put into it and use on it. My hair didn't like this shampoo. It took three handfuls of thin, syrupy liquid to get it clean. The conditioner was so thick, I could barely pull a comb through my hair, and it didn't rinse out very well. Having completely curly and thick hair, I can only comb my hair once a day - in the shower. So this is a very important step in my showering routine.

I had the same problem the next day, but I figured my hair had turned out OK the day before, so I suffered through the entire process. But when I got out of the shower, I made a discovery that made me feel like Mary in that movie, "There's Something About Mary." Wow, I thought. This conditioner must be really good because even the skin on my hands feels really smooth.

Then I realized, that although the bottles looked exactly alike, they were not meant to be a set after all. Sure, one WAS shampoo. The other was a bottle of skin moisturizer.