I'm forever less and more (wonderbink) wrote,
I'm forever less and more

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The Ring Cycle

Britpoptarts gave it to me. (I'd link to her LJ, but it got hacked and is now a Russian spam factory. At least, I assume it's spam. I can't be sure; I don't understand Russian.) I think it was a birthday present, but it might have been a Christmas present. I do recall that it came in a package with all kinds of cool things, as her presents often do. I fell in love with it immediately and wore it often. I had to wrap the band in electrical tape to keep it from sliding off with every vigorous hand gesture, but once I did that it was secure.

Until it disappeared.

I'd been in the habit of taking it off and tucking it in the wee fifth pocket of my jeans while I washed my hands after using the bathroom. One fine evening I walked out from a shopping trip at The Big Blue Grocery Store (the chain I don't work at) checked my pocket and found no ring there. I frantically retraced my steps, checked the bathroom and found nothing.

I meditated on the fleeting nature of things and let it go. I got the name of the site where Britpoptarts got it, but found that they required a $100 minimum order, so I put together an order and got about fifty bucks into it before asking Big Sister-In-Law if she'd be interested in going in with me so I could get the ring. She looked over the site and declared the styles too "blingy" for her taste. So I procrastinated figuring out another fifty dollars worth of jewelry and left the order in limbo.

Then I went down to St. Augustine Beach with my family, as we traditionally do. It was a little iffy whether or not I'd be able to make it down because I was still recovering from my injuries after the accident, but I made it and was even able to take (sometimes curtailed) long walks up and down the beach. We were taking care of our Catholic business at St. Anastasia's and as we were making our way out of the parking lot, we had to make a sudden stop.

"Hey, what's this?" asked my niece (who for pseudonymous purposes I shall call Anime Niece).

"Oh, my God!" I blurted.

It was the ring. Electrical tape and all.

Anime Niece was a little disappointed that the ring had an owner--she'd been hoping to claim it for herself--but she surrendered it and I put it back on my finger. Got home and took the picture at the start of this entry so I could let Britpoptarts know that I had it back.

I took the ring to Chattacon this past weekend and wore it most of the time. I went to Big Brother's party and spent some quality time with the Gentleman Caller. We went across the footbridge and got a half-dozen donuts at Julie Darling's, with a stop at the Moon Pie General Store, where I picked up a tumbled stone the color of lemonade. Saturday night, there was a room party called Tina's Tavern, heavily advertised with hand-lettered signs all over the convention.

It was right across the hall from where the Gentleman Caller was staying.

Meanwhile, I'd been given a nice little suite on the 13th floor (yes, really) that had a room with a bed on one side and a room with couches on the other and a narrow corridor with a coffee machine in between. The Gentleman Caller went to his room (he had to push people out of the way to do it, as the party was in full swing by then) grabbed some cheese, crackers and a bottle of bourbon and we went up to my room and we sat on the nice couches and he used the city guide magazine thingy as a cutting board and we sipped bourbon and talked about things.

I shifted from my glam outfit (black velvet catsuit, white go-go boots, white wig, white feather boa) into my red satin pajamas and eventually wound down and went to bed. The Gentleman Caller returned to his chambers, as the party across the hall had finally died down.

Sunday morning I randomly ran into him as I was tucking away my luggage into my car and we spent a little time in the consuite as I noshed a generic Pop Tart and drank what was left of the milk. The consuite was equipped with a jukebox with science fiction related tunes, such as Meco's disco rendition of the Star Wars theme, a sonic atrocity that I consider the musical equivalent of The Star Wars Holiday Special. (The Gentleman Caller didn't entirely agree with me, and I'm still not clear on why.)

I texted Big Brother to find out when load out was and he replied that they were doing breakdown then, so I went up to try and earn my keep, since I get my room and membership through Big Brother. I did my part and kept an eye on things upstairs while they packed the truck then met in the lobby with the Gentleman Caller to say a proper goodbye.

"Did you pack your ring?" he asked.

It wasn't on my finger. He recalled seeing me take it off in the living room of the suite and setting it down on the table. We went to the front desk and they called someone in housekeeping to find out if it had been seen. We went upstairs, found that the key still worked and scoured the room for it. Nothing. We left and met with the housekeeping supervisor, who performed a more thorough search and still found nothing.

I began to meditate on the fleeting nature of things.

We found my sunglasses, which I had also left behind, on the housekeeping cart and the supervisor asked the housekeeper if she'd seen a ring in the same room. She shook her head and said she hadn't. The supervisor went as far as to pull on gloves and rummage through the trash bag and--

--she found it. I have no idea how it got there. I suspect gremlins.

I put it on and thanked her profusely. Then thanked her some more. The Gentleman Caller took a picture of her badge so he could thank corporate properly. He forwarded it to me so I could do the same. I may point them to this blog post.

So the ring is back on my finger and I seriously thought I'd never see it again. Miracles do happen in this lifetime.

Today I took pleasure in a big, cold bottle of fruit punch flavored Powerade.

Today I learned many of the musicians who played on Star Wars and Other Galactic Funk ended up playing in David Letterman's band.

This entry was originally posted at https://wonderbink.dreamwidth.org/234036.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Tags: conventions, gentleman caller

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