Sports, dinner and celebrities, oh my!

• I volunteered at a Sports Celebrity dinner which raised money for the MS society on Wednesday Feb. 15. Here's how it went...

I arrived there late if you're going by the Central Time Zone, but pretty much on time if you're going by Arab Standard Time (AST)! My friend Sheri, who was supposed to greet guests alongside me at the Renaissance Grand Hotel downtown, apparently got food poisoning. (Don't go to Red Lobster. Which one, you ask? Does it matter?)So I was stuck by myself for an hour and a half waiting by the side door where I would practically fawn after any and everyone who walked by...
"Good evening! Are you here for the Auction?!" God I must've sounded like such an ass.
So there I was for the longest time, all by my lonesome, with only the janitor guy who periodically came by to give me creepy looks, only to decide at creepy look number 6 to make small talk, asking me where I was from.
I told him I was Arab and he stared for a moment, making me slightly more uncomfortable, especially when he said, "Man oh man, you Middle Eastern women are beautiful!" This was the last thing I wanted to hear from the janitor. Well, second to last thing. It probably would have been worse if the words, "kill", "eat you" or "precious" were uttered. Nonetheless, they weren't, so I replied, "Thank you on behalf of all Middle Eastern women." At least I had my manners. (Plus, I'm not one of the better looking Middle Eastern women, but thank you mister!)
I tried to change the subject by asking if he saw many different types of people come by the hotel. I knew he probably did. It was a hotel in downtown St. Louis, but he was stupid enough not to catch on to my purpose.
Janitor: "Sure, sure...all different types of people."
me: "what kind of people?" (God, this is so stupid)
Janitor:"You know, different types", and with a thoughtful look he said, "I've seen Jews" and amazingly, he stopped at that....
At this point I wanted to laugh hysterically out loud, because I thought it was odd that the only type of people he saw at the Renaissance Grand, that he could think of, were Jews and that it seemed like he purposefully said "Jews" to get a crazy response out of me. Apparently, my being Arab might cause some inexplicable reaction to the word. I wanted to explain to him that I wasn't going to pull my sword out, make yelping noises with my tongue and take him hostage because God willed it. But then I thought, "why bother?".
Janitor: "you know, I like all types of people."

me:"um, that's nice."
Janitor:" You don't believe me? Look at my wife" and with those words, he withdrew his wallet to show me his white wife. He was African American.
me:"Wow, I believe you now", I said sarcastically. He laughed. I think he felt I was convinced.
Janitor:"I'll be back later!" And with that, he pulled out his walkie talkie, acting like the use for it in that moment was dire. In that moment,  he yielded all the power in the universe because this device could loudly transmit messages and make beeping noises. It was like Heman yielding his sword high above his head,that pride.

Of course, I didn't wait around to see if the man with amazing conversational skills would prove me wrong and not come back. I went to get a snack and can I just say, this was probably the best volunteer food I'd ever seen. There were rolled sandwiches, cake, water, fruit, chips. In other words, the works. Hello inner fatty awakening in me! It was fitting, since I binged on food on my way over to the event, thinking they'd only have rabbit food or pretzels. Like the true opportunist I am, I took a bag of chips and bottle of water just because it was free.
Now, the next part of the evening is where it gets fun. As part of my volunteering, I was also a spotter. During a live auction, I would raise my amazingly dorky "star on a stick" contraption to alert the auctioneer with the microphone if any of the guests at my four tables were bidding on an item. This star-stick thing instantly raised my dorky level by two or three notches on the dork rictor scale. (Ignore the possibility of my dorkiness already being off the charts.)

I'm not proud to say that the star was huge and shiny. If I took it to an airport, they would've arrested me for fear of this weapon and my intent, as it's points at each end were sharp enough to cut through a penny and its surface was shiny enough to blind any innocent passerbyer. The airlines should update their list of things to look out for and place "star-stick" right on the top, next to "more than 3 ounces of fluid."
Anyway, I feared the worst as the live auction spotter. I imagined myself twitching and flailing my arms about uncontrollably, making someone pay $3,000 for a trip they didn't want. But I was more excited about seeing the "celebrity" guests than anything else. Ozzie Smith was rumored to be on his way. The murmerings of interest were circulating around me and I joined in on the dorky groupiness (yes. The notch went up!).


"Is it true?" I asked a girl I had befriended beside me.

"yeah yeah, he's on his way", she assured me and the murmerings persisted.

 Then there he was in all his hall of fame glory. As handsome and awesome and obvious as he could be. The murmerings subsided as we all stared in awe, as if waiting for him to make his famous flip right then and there. He decidely made a point not look our way as we waited out in the hall for the guests to finish their dinner, or perhaps he was so used to people staring that we were just an afterthought. Maybe both. Either way, we were the unimportant auction spotters. I was tempted to yell, "Ozzie!" but decided my dorkiness had its barriers. I was not going to yell "Ozzie!" while carrying the amazing star-repellent Star-stick.
We entered the ballroom and made our way towards our assigned tables. I was lucky enough to get four tables in the front, next to the head table seating the celebrity guests. OOOooooooooh.  I could not have been happier with my arrangements, I had a great area. Only, I felt very self concious and imagined all my rich, white friends around me commenting on how large my behind was.


I could hear them now..."Look at that Mexican girl's rear end, Richard! It's absolutely horrific!"

"Oh Mindy, you are quite the gem!" (region of tables within earshot of this hoighty toighty remark are heard ha-ha'ing and giggling with rich, unabashed glee)

I was told to make the guests of my volunteering selection aware of my job as their spotter. It was the hardest thing to catch their attention. If felt like I was interrupting their dinner party. I wasn't even sure if they understood me because they would barely respond. I looked at other spotters in the area to see if the same was happening to them and went back to my table intent on getting the message out regardless of their interest.

"Richard, make the Mexican girl go away!"
I looked up from my position to see who else I could identify at the head table. There was Jamal Mayers of the St. Louis Blue. But before I could thoroughly continue acting on my curiousity, the auctioneer began. A few guests at my table were really involved in the first item on the list of items to be auctioned.

Heart. Pounding.

 It proved for some interesting moments, especially when I had to yell for the auctioneer to look my way when he strayed off for too long as I waved my Star a la Stick. By the way, I wasn't being ghetto, this was something I was advised to do before I had gone in the ballroom. We had to "make sure the guest's bid didn't go unnoticed." Sir, yes sir!
For the rest of the evening, though, my area was peaceful. (And by peaceful, I mean disappointing in the inaction). Auctioned items ranged from golf memberships at exclusive golf courses to two tickets to opening day with special seating, a tour of the new Busch before the game and a sit down interview with Mike Shannon and John Rooney during the game.

As my area remained quiet, I was able to identify Mayor Francis Slay, John Rooney, Dick Ford and others at the head table as well. I guess they were using the term "sports celebrity" lightly. Still, I can't say I wasn't happy to see Dick Ford anyway.
I wish I could tell you that Ozzie flipped over to me and we sang a few tunes together, but my evening ended at that. I left the ballroom and made my way out the door as soon as humanly possible. But not before the event coordinator could say, "Thanks for helping out, Bodd-ee-ya", adding her name to the list of thousands who've never missed an opportunity to butcher my name.


My name's been butchered so much that it's rumored the letters 'A' and 'D' in my name are delicacies in Iceland.

Anyway, that was my evening. Hope ya enjoyed. I pretty much did. I would've enjoyed it more if any of the current Cardinals or Tori Holt were there. Either way, still fun.

By the way, I'm definately volunteering next year too. (wink wink)