Divided Roads

Here I was in my rented tuxedo with all of those lights shining in my face, and I was hoping that no one would notice that I was shaking. I thought for sure I would piss in my pants in front of everyone. You can just imagine a pool of pee forming around me as Dr. Max spoke. He might have electrocuted himself if he stepped in the pee while holding the microphone.

I had no idea what Dr. Max was saying while I was on stage, but I continued to smile while feeling pure fear. He asked me something and I somehow got the courage to answer him, but right now, I don’t remember what he asked or what I said. My response must have sounded okay because the audience clapped.

This is when he was glowing in his remarks about my contribution in developing a web site for the foundation. He also talked about San Francisco and Alcatraz. At this point, he told people to look at the program brochure to see the obligations for a volunteer. I wonder what the program said because people started reading while we were on stage.

Then the big moment arrived and Dr. Max asked for volunteers. It reminded me of an auction, except that the auctions I have seen usually have lots of immediate activity. This wasn’t the case in my auction.

When Dr. Max wasn’t having luck getting volunteers, I was surprised that I had mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was delighted because it would mean that I wouldn’t have to take this silly trip. However, I also felt slightly discouraged because I felt that people were rejecting me rather than the trip itself. I know this must sound crazy, but I was actually a little hurt and embarrassed.

Dr. Max then took the microphone in his hand and walked between the dinner tables. Many people put their heads down as he passed them.

It was like being in class and hoping the teacher wouldn’t call on you to read in front of the entire class. For the brief time that I attended school, I never made eye contact with teachers when they were looking for volunteers.

Then out of nowhere I saw a raised hand. My first thought was someone was stretching, but this wasn’t the case. A man, who seemed a little older than Dad, raised his hand. Dr. Max spotted him, rushed to the volunteer’s table and escorted him to the stage.

Dr. Max was very relieved because this could have been an absolute bomb for him.

I didn’t really know how to feel. Instead of looking at this as a "win-win" situation, it was a "lose-lose" deal for me. Before I was introduced this evening, I was very much hoping that there wouldn’t be a volunteer. However, once on stage, I was in a minor panic when no one initially raised a hand. I could just imagine the headlines in the morning paper if no one volunteered – "Sick Kid Rejected At Charity Dinner." But I still didn’t want to go on the trip.

After the hand was raised, I didn’t know whether to smile or cry. I probably looked like a fool because I showed no emotion – I just stood there on stage, staring at the audience. I was so damn close to both victory (for not having to take the trip) and humiliation (because no one wanted me). I wasn’t sure which would have been better.

The rest of the evening is a blur. I was introduced to the volunteer, who was identified as Mr. Peter Franklin. The funny thing is that this guy also had the "deer in headlights" look when he arrived on the stage, so I didn’t feel alone.

After Dr. Max concluded the event, Dad and I approached Franklin. They exchanged business cards and a few words. Dad then did something that was very uncharacteristic of him – he gave this stranger a bear hug. I thought for a moment he was going to plant a big wet kiss on the guy. Boy, that was embarrassing; it looked like a scene from one of the Godfather movies when someone thanked the "Don" for a favor. I expected Dad to get on his knees and kiss Franklin’s right hand.