Breaking Bread with Miss America

Boy, talk about your High School moments all over again.
I had lunch across from a beauty queen today.
No, seriously. I did.
Suddenly I was transported back to April 3rd, 1990, 11:47am, Hudson High School cafeteria. The prettiest girl in our grade pulls up a chair across from me. This is not intimidating to me, of course, for I am full of pep, personality, zeal and charisma. And as we all know, those things are important in High School. NOT!
I am intimidated. Why?
Becuse I always seem to get the most tickled when there is food rolling around in my mouth.
If ranch dressing drips down my hand I never got the concept of "wipe it off". I lick it.
And I always...always...spill something on myself.
And so, on that third day of April 1990 I sat across from her.
And yes, I spilled. And no, she didn't.
And yes, I used too much mayonnaise. While she used none.
And yes, I caught the ranch dressing rolling down my palm with my tongue, while she never soaked her fries in ranch dressing at all.
And yes, I went to English Lit. with taco meat on my vest...but it's all okay.
As my granny says, "who cares. you'll still go to heaven happy."
I have no clue what that even means.
But there I was today. Sitting across from another beauty queen. A real live beuty queen. Not like the girl I went to school with (who rumor has it worked at Kohl's for four weeks before she slipped in the bathroom and got worker's comp which she used to open up a tanning salon that eventually went belly-up but not before she went belly-up, if you get my meaning.) I chuckle lightly to myself.
No, today's beauty queen was Miss America.
A real live Miss America. And she made a sandwich for me. And we ate together. And yeah, I think I laughed with my mouth open while she kept her elbows off the table.
And yes, I think she saw me pick that piece of cheese up off the table and eat it while she politely wiped her mouth with her napkin.
And so what if sweet tea dribbled down my chin while she cut her sandwich into fourths?
We had a nice time. She's wonderful and secure and could care less that she ever was a beauty queen.
And me? I'm perfectly happy - after all, I am full of pep, personality, zeal and charisma. And while that may not count for much when your 15 it sure makes people want to have you over for lunch when your 30.