It's okay ... I have cake

So, I'm at this award ceremony dinner event. It's taking place in a popular event center in a nearby city that has a few scary areas in it as far as incidents of crime. It doesn't take long to drive from the event center and find yourself in an area that may make you a bit leery, so I always have the exact route ready for getting back on the highway toward home.

On this night, however, the on-ramp was closed due to construction. I'm a bit nervous, but I see detours and other cars following the detours, so I don't panic quite yet. As I continue, I notice the posted detours are for a particular street, but do not indicate how I can get back onto the highway. I also begin to notice that there are no longer any other cars on the street, and I am now in a random residential neighborhood. Now I'm beginning to panic. I see some storefronts, but nowhere that I want to get out and ask for directions. I see a random guy walking along the side of the road, another riding his bike. My anxiety level is beginning to skyrocket as I realize I'm getting more and more lost in an area of the city that I'm completely unfamiliar with and it's getting pretty dark outside. I can't even call my husband and ask him where I need to go because I don't have a clue as to where I am and I certainly am not stopping to look at street signs. I grab the slice of cake lying next to me and eat it in three big bites.

(sound effect: the screeching noise of a needle on a record)

Cake? What cake?

Well, let me back up.

As we left the dinner and ceremony for the evening, the large delicious-looking cake that had been set just inside the entrance (to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the awards) had been cut into small slices and set on napkins for guests to take as they left. It was white cake, with a thick layer of that white sugary bakery frosting that is THE BEST. Anyone who knows me knows I love frosted sugar cookies and white cake with frosting (a la traditional wedding cake). So, I take a slice, and ask my colleagues if they plan to take one, and they both decline, referring to the small slice of cheesecake we had had for dessert not more than an hour before. Normal eaters. What can you do with them?

I was like, "Oh, yeah, I did just have a slice of cheesecake, didn't I?" But my rationalization gene smelled sugar and kicked on, saying, "It's not like you get this kind of cake every day. And you already have it in your hand; what are you going to do? Go put it back? Don't be ridiculous. Plus you don't have to eat it tonight, just take it home."

Ooh, my rationalization gene is good. It KNOWS damn well that I'm eating that slice of cake tonight, but it has even me convinced that I'll save it for tomorrow.

So, that's why I have a slice of cake in the car with me as I'm driving around, talking to myself, peering fervently out the window for a street name that looks familiar. And in my high anxiety state, I ate that cake.

"Ate" maybe is the wrong word, because that implies using utensils, chewing, tasting and swallowing. I "used" that cake is more like it. I literally ate it in three bites, just shoved it in, not for the flavor, not because I was hungry, but to drown out the panic and fear that were bubbling up within me. I used it to calm me down.

Was it delicious? I'm sure it was. I remember it was moist, and the frosting was thick, both excellent qualities for a cake to have. But taste? I honestly have no idea how it tasted. Really. I think back on those two bites, and I remembering having a full mouth, chewing and swallowing, and doing it all quickly. I don't remember tasting it.

Which is a shame. Because this was the kind of cake that was meant to be savored. You get a bite on your fork, making sure you have just the right proportions of frosting and cake, and put it in your mouth, making one of those "Mmmm" sounds heard countless times on The Food Network each day. And maybe your eyes even roll back into your head as you savor the moist vanilla-ness of the cake and the creamy mouth feel of the frosting. It was baked to be a cake. It was not baked to be a sedative.

As I drove, I found myself at a busy road, which I took to be a good sign. I turned in a direction I thought would lead me toward something familiar. As it turned out, I ended up right back at the event center. Not wanting to take another chance at getting lost, I parked and  headed back inside to ask for directions. Before I got to the door, three people came out, a husband and wife, and another woman. I told them my dilemma, and one lady told me the way to go, then the other lady asked her husband if I could just follow them and they'd show me where to turn to get onto the highway, mentioning that if she was in my situation, she'd be a bit scared, too. I was so utterly grateful for these kind people, and they got me exactly where I needed to be.

I waved to them as I turned onto the road that took me to the on-ramp for the highway and said a prayer of blessing for them. As I headed home, I felt myself begin to relax. I hadn't realized exactly how nervous I had been until I got back into my car to follow my lifesavers and realized I had been shivering, not from a chill, but from nerves.

Along with the steadying of those nerves, I also felt full. I could feel the heaviness of the cake in my stomach, and I felt so bummed that I had eaten it that way. I wished I had simply enjoyed it, at a table, with a fork, while I was feeling good and happy.