A Compliment... Or Something....

Last weekend, I was scheduled to play a piping gig at a Presbyterian church not too far from where I live. The occasion was an ordination service for a lad who had been studying to become a minister.

My part was to play just outside the church for the arriving congregation, and then to play again at a reception being held in one of the special function rooms in another part of the church building.


I played for everyone as they arrived, and once the last member of the congregation had arrived, my wife and I went inside and took a seat in one of the last pews.

Generally speaking, it usually feels slightly awkward to me when I am in either someone else's church, a church of a different faith or denomination. This isn't because I am uncomfortable with the beliefs and traditions of other people... I'm not. It is chiefly because I don't want to make some faux pas or otherwise draw attention to myself under those circumstances.

So. Here I am, in full highland attire, after everyone just walked past me while I was playing the great highland pipes. Its a presbyterian church. Most of the congregation are either Scottish, think that they are, claim that they are, wish that they are, or heard of a scotsman once and know that scotsman are all supposed to wear kilts and play bagpipes (...ahem). It is just a wee bit difficult to remain unobtrusive under the circumstances...

So, anyway... I take my seat, and my wife is sitting next to me just to my right. On my left is an aisle that leads up to the altar, and just across the aisle is the long center pew. Sitting just on the other side of the aisle, perhaps three feet from me, is a woman. She gave me a great big smile when I first walked in and took my seat, and my radar is screaming at me because she has her head turned 90 degrees to the right and is blatantly staring at me. After about 20 seconds, I glance over at her, give her a smile in return, and go back to the program in my hand to try to figure out where we are in the continuum, so that I will know what is coming next, and whether I should be ready to stand, or sing, or read, or pretend to be reciting something, or what....

She returns her attention to the service for a few minutes, but eventually I realize that she is looking at me again. For some reason, this begins to make me feel extremely self-conscious, and, once again, I sort of glance over at her, nod, and smile. I am trying to let her know that I am noticing that she is looking at me, and that it is making me feel a little bit uncomfortable. She gives me a huge smile, and once again, returns the focus of her attention back on the service.

Not five minutes later, she is looking at me again!! I resolve myself to not look over at her this time, and keep my eyes riveted on the front of the church, or the hymnal, or whatever the hell is was that I was supposed to be looking at. This works for a little while, until I realize that she is actually leaning towards me and waving slightly in order to capture my attention. This is entirely too much for me to maintain my resolve, which crumbles immediately, and I look over at her... she is smiling her ass off and stage whispers, "You are simply ravishing!!"

Ravishing??

I am staring at her... well... gaping at her, actually.. as my brain does its level best to wrap itself around this development and come to grips with it.

I am fairly certain that she was absolutely not coming on to me in a church full of people, including my wife who was sitting three inches to my right. She was simply trying to be friendly and to give me a compliment and let me know that she enjoyed my playing and felt that it added something to the occasion. She was making a nice gesture.

I understand this... and I understood it at the time... and there I was, mouth slightly open, staring at her as though I was addled.

I had this mental picture of Rita Hayworth in a red dress with red lipstick and nail polish, and a cloud of hair out to here, with cleavage and hips and legs goin' on everywhere... over which is superimposed an image of me, in a kilt, and ghillie-brogues, high-and-tight haircut... all 250 pounds of me... and I just can't reconcile 'ravishing' with me, or with anything about me.... and my brain is telling me that I should respond to this lady, because it would be the polite thing to do.... but I am thinking that she was aiming for 'dashing', which would be sort of cool because nobody ever told me that I was dashing before, and I feel that I wouldn't mind being dashing at all!! (As in, the piper arrived, looking dashing in his smart looking kilt and sporting a lovely sporran and plaid).



But she didn't say 'dashing'.... she said 'ravishing'. And I am still sitting there, just this side of drooling on myself... her smiling at me for all that she was worth, obviously very happy and proud of her choice of words... I expect that if she were to be called ravishing, she would be thrilled! (What woman wouldn't want to be called 'ravishing'??)

Finally.... FINALLY.... I managed to snap out of it and mumble a quick 'thanks.. that's very nice of you to say so...' before turning back to the hymnal, or whatever the hell it was that I buried my face in, trying to hide my glowing face and ears (no such luck, by the way...).

The woman had apparently been bursting with the desire to unload this compliment on me since I had taken my seat, because once she said this, she happily returned her attention back to the service and sang and prayed and stood and sat without much more of a look in my direction. (I guess she was shocked to realize that the piper was obviously suffering from a serious mental health issue, and wanted to be elsewhere...)

Perhaps eight minutes passed, and my wife nudged me with her elbow, signalling me to lean closer so that she could tell me something. I obliged her by leaning towards her and she whispered, "What did that dumb twit just say to you??"

I considered this for a second, then replied, "Well... ahh.... she apparently, um, finds me ravishing..."

"Ravishing!?!?"

"Mmmm..." (My ears are positively glowing now...)

"She actually said 'ravishing'??"

"Mmmm..."

"That's what I thought she said...."

"Yeah..well...."

"Doesn't she know that women are ravishing??"

"I uh..."

She gives me a once over, and starts to giggle. Great.

"Ravishing??"

Fuck.

"If she wasn't such an idiot, I would kick her ass!" (still laughing)

"I think she was just trying to give me a compliment..."

"Ravishing!! hee-hee!"

Great. The unending gauntlet of humiliation and degradation continues... (sigh).

To make a long story short... we finished up, and went home. The next day I got a phone call at work.

"Bear??"

"Speaking!" (It was my wife..)

"Is this Bear... 'The Ravishing'??"

Oh, man....

So. Apparently, I am ravishing, and as such, I think I am entitled to special treatment, discounts, back rubs, and other tokens of worship and appreciation.


Bring it on.