I looked the part, dressed in a sparkly black strapless dress, shiny high heels, I am ready to go to the ball and find my Prince Charming in the Big Apple accompanied by my two stunning stepsisters (friends Sarah and Catherine). The location is a Bleeker Street bar in central Manhattan where I meet an old colleague who has recently moved to New York. We enjoy great music, great conversation and I was even being chatted up by a gorgeous guy. Knowing there was no time for hangovers, I opt for vodka and orange drinks, confident the fruit will keep the hangover at bay. It has been a long time since I have gone the hardcore spirits over the more stylish wine, but I can handle my drink.
In the early hours of the morning my friends call to leave and wait for me outside while I say good-bye to my cute friend. However, he has disappeared. His friend’s joke that he has left, but then say “no, he has responded to nature.” Suddenly from nowhere I feel it approaching, the stylish facade, the fairy godmother magic, is about to all disappear. Any moment I am to turn into a pumpkin or worst still a very, very ugly step-sister. Acutely aware that there is no time for good-byes – I dash out the door as Prince Charming’s friends grab me fearing that something they have said has scared me off. I say “I have to go, now, I’m sorry”. I want to sit down for a moment and try to make myself feel better – but I know it is too late for that - exiting with some sense of glamour is all I can hold out for. I hail a cab - in a very Sex and the City style – and call for my friends to get inside. It is the last glimmer of style pretence I deliver.
Believe me – as your pumpkin moment approaches - you do not want to be in a New York cab. The taxi dodges and weaves through traffic with the driver determined to get us to a destination in record time – even though at three in the morning, we are in no rush. The lights go green and he floors it – aiming to cover 10 blocks before every light turns red. I just want to stop. But ensuring that we do not dodge our cab fare – the doors are locked. I am trapped.. The clock strikes midnight as the cab flies down Fifth Avenue.. I am certain that no story line in Sex and the City ever featured Carrie Bradshaw in such an ugly fairy monster moment.
I can only imagine what “Prince Charming” would be thinking at being dumped without so much as a good-bye. You may say – ah well at least I don’t have to worry about bumping into him again. Or do I? Somehow out of all the men in all the bars in New York, I end up chatting to guy from London who lives just two suburbs away. As an antipodean – it is highly like that there are only two degrees of separation between us.
In the cold, and very painful light of the following morning I drag myself through New York determined not to waste any time and secretly thinking the horrendous night’s end was a blessing in disguise. I am pretty certain Prince Charming wasn’t so spunky or charming without my ginormous vodka and orange beer goggles. But the night of the Pumpkin in the Big Apple would have to go down as my most crazy and cruel exit of all time.
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