When
I was 18 or 19, my then-boyfriend took me to Sheffield, Alabama
to meet his grandparents. I was thrilled about the purpose of the trip. I
figured that after a year and a half of dating, I must really mean something to
him if he would take me to meet his grandparents.
I
was less thrilled about the destination. Sheffield,
Alabama is part of a small conglomerate of
cities making up the Shoals area of Northern Alabama.
Florence, Tuscumbia, Muscle Shoals and Sheffield make up this bustling metropolis. The University of North Alabama is there, and Tuscumbia is
the birthplace of Helen Keller. (Their tourist slogan: “Come see what she
couldn’t.”)
I
spent the entire night before we left stressing out about what to wear. With
the help of my mother, I very carefully chose a long, blue cotton dress that
buttoned up the back. Attractive? Not so much. Seemingly appropriate for
meeting conservative senior citizens in Sheffield?
Yes. (At the time, I think everything else I owned stopped above the knee
and/or involved cleavage. I was young and less self-concious then.)
After
a two + hour drive the next day, we arrived in Sheffield.
We entered through the back of the house and immediately sat down in the family
room for introductions and pleasantries. A few minutes into the conversation,
Grandma said, “Why don’t we move to the living room? It’s so much nicer in
there, and we rarely have company.”
We
all stood to file into the living room, and I heard a muffled “Oh, Dear,”
followed by the feel of strange hands at my back. I looked over my shoulder to
see Grandma frantically trying to re-button my dress – which, much to my
embarrassment, had come undone from the middle of my back down to my knees.
Damn
those buttons.
To
add insult to injury, at the time, I was rather obsessed with panty lines.
Because of my undergarment choices, nothing more than a thin T of fabric
(probably missed in a panic) separated me from full-on mooning my boyfriend’s
grandmother.
I
turned bright red, and it took all of the strength I had not to spend the rest
of the trip in the car, hoping and praying it would be time to go home soon.
In
some ways, I suppose you could say that the trip could only get better from
there. After some more visiting, we drove to the Wilson Lock and Bridge and ate
at one of Florence’s
best known restaurants – an eatery at the top of a tower. The outside edge of
the restaurant rotates while you enjoy a meal and a 360 degree view of all that
the Shoals have to offer.
After
that boyfriend and I broke up (I don’t think I ever grew on Grandma after she
saw so much of me), one of the few places I thought I’d never see again was the
town that was the source of my shame and the rotating outer edge of a Florence
restaurant.
And
that remained true until this past weekend when I joined my Significant Other
at the Shoals Marriott while he filmed a promotional video for the hotel. As he
was telling me about our upcoming trip, he mentioned the 360 Grille, but I
never put the name with anything from my past.
But,
when we arrived in Florence
on Sunday, I looked up from the parking lot to see the tower restaurant of my
past. “There’s the grill I was telling you about,” the SO said.
“Actually,”
I said, “I’ve been here before …”
Never
say never, I suppose.
Recent Comments