We were polished. We were professional. We shared great information. We were bad ass.
Then it happened. As I was being the epitome of professionalism on a national stage a bug flew down my dress.
I never saw it happen. I felt it.
At first, I thought it was imaginary. So I did a very subtle scratch of the dress I was wearing. THEN. IT. MOVED.
I have never wanted to scream like a little girl so badly. I was torn between being professional while listening to my counterparts during our presentation and REALLY WANTING TO FREAK OUT. I prayed that the bug would voluntarily die. I prayed that I could contain my composure. I prayed that I wouldn't involuntarily rip my dress off on stage and stomp the SHIT out of it like I was making wine out of it.
Prayers work, folks. They really do.
I survived the rest of the session and no one knew how much distress I was in. I told some of my co-presenters about what happened and they laughed. Then I loudly declared I was going to shimmy the five blocks back to my office to get whatever bug leftovers there were out of my dress.
I honestly cannot make this kind of stuff up.