Queen for a Day, or how I won Frank Sinatra Tickets

WARNING: This is a very long story.

Let me take you back to the year 1986. I was living in St. Louis and working at a law firm in the billing department. I would have been a spry 23 in 1986. I had been married for a few months when I noticed some unusual spotting. Along with this spotting, I was getting some intense cramping, so knew I needed to see my obgyn. I was convinced I had some type of cancer, and was truly frightened.

At my doctor's appointment, I spoke of my fears and symptoms. My very cute Scottish doctor told me I was probably just ovulating and assured me that everything was fine. But, since I was there, we'd just check it out to see. So, I get an internal. You know, the humiliating female exam. You know, the one where you pray you don't get gassy, and that you don't do anything embarrassing.

Very shortly into the exam, he says, with his adorable Scottish brogue, "I see the problem." At that point, he removes a feminine hygiene product (for the remainder of this post, I will call it the FHP) and dangles it over my head. I WAS MORTIFIED. I asked him, "how long has that been in there?" His response? "No telling." (OH MY GOSH I AM EVEN MORE MORTIFIED THAN I WAS JUST 30 SECONDS AGO) He then explained to me that he meant one or two cycles, and that I was lucky that it was found with no more serious side effects. I smiled wanly, tucked my tail between my legs and went home. Please keep in mind that I had to then tell my curious family and friends that I was NOT going to die from cancer. (only from embarrassment)

OKAY. Now, flash forward to a radio contest that was being held in St. Louis. The prize was two front row tickets to see Frank Sinatra. Granted, he looked more like this:

But come on! It was Frank! I had grown up listening to my mother ooh and aah if his name were mentioned. He was in the Rat Pack! He was in Guys and Dolls! He inspired the character of Johnny Fontane in "The Godfather." He looked great in a hat, and could melt butter with his voice.

But I digress. Anyway, this station was running a contest entitled, "Queen for a Day." The person with the best (worst?) sob story would win the front row tickets. I called, and made it through to the DJ's. I began by telling little horrible stories that were really pretty boring. (My dad was fired the day after my wedding, my dog got the tip of her tail cut off in the screen door, etc) I could feel their interest slipping away.

Now remember. I really wanted those tickets....

So, I regaled them with my FHP story. I told every single detail. And at the end of my tale, there was utter silence. And then? They asked my name. And I gave them my name. My full name. First Name. Last Name. Yep, no anonymity for this little lady. And I WON!! Granted, all of St. Louis now knew of my major embarrassment, but I was going to see Frank. The producer of the show called me later and said that they chose me as the winner, because they knew no one could make up THAT story.

So, I went to see Frank. I was probably the only person wearing jeans and under 50. But, it's something I'll always treasure and remember. It was totally worth it. Granted, I now associate Frank Sinatra with FHP's, but what the heck! I did it MY WAY!