Finding Joy in Snarkville

…and frankly, it freaks me out a little.

Yesterday, I was standing my my booth at a local bridal show. (sidenote: I do two of these a year. I find it is a great way to talk to people and get business, since 90% of these brides are going to GO somewhere. However, I also like to TALK to people and not just hand out crap in hopes they will talk to me later. So, we put together a great booth and tuck away the books under the table. Now there is one other travel lady we seem to do shows with, and her booth plan is all books all the time. Prince and I spend lots of time feeling superior — which was only boosted this year because we were able to offer on the spot booking and she was handing out books. But in our defense, at every show we’ve been to, she’s walked over and come off acting all superior, after all her whole business model is that she’s the honeymoon specialist.  So, this year, our booth neighbor had to cancel at the last minute and the promoter likes me so he gave us a double sized booth.  With the extra space we did honeymoon consulting on the spot with dates, availabilities and prices.  So, this show when the other lady came over she dropped her jaw a little and even came out to tell us that she was “blown away” by our booth.  Anyway…)

One bride walks up to me and I say hello. She says, “You look familar. Do I know you?” So I try to think of all the places this person might know me, “Do you knit?” “Do you bowl?” “Do you shop in Snarkville?” Oh, no…then she smacks her forehead (like the old V-8 moments, only she’s about 10 years too young to know what a V-8 moment is and I sort of feel a little old at that very moment.) and says….

“I saw you and your son at the (insert airport about 3000 miles away) airport recently.”

Um, well, yes I was in fact in said airport FOUR times in a short period of time; but I don’t normally look around and take stock of the people around me. Also, being with Duke means I’m focused on him, making sure he’s got what he needs and isn’t throwing a major fit. Needless to say, I studdered a bit, inquired if the reason she remembered me was that he (or I) was throwing some major fit. We weren’t. But how freaky was that.

And yes, I totally expect her to call me to book her honeymoon.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 22nd, 2007 at 9:23 am and is filed under The Queen. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.