Nick's Top 3 Embarrassing Moments

We all have moments in our lives that are embarrassing. These three stories are probably the three worst.

The Nick Francone Show
It was my senior year of high school. I used to get a ride to school almost every morning from Chris Dusza. He would first pick up Doyle, then me and lastly head to the Gardens to get Zar. Well, at some point Dusza started to flake out on his duties leaving me running for the bus. As a senior there is nothing more soul crushing then having to still rely on the yellow bus to get you to Argo.

In Dusza’s defense he had just started dating this girl he met at one of our trips to Fields on 107th and Cicero. On Tuesdays I believe they had under 21 nights and we would from time to time hit the juice bar. Yes, it was lame but when you are trying to hit on girls, it was usually stock piled. It was usually me, Zar, Dusza and Doyle all piling in at first his Dad’s blue Ford Escort wagon (a total chick magnet) and then eventually his red 1979 Camaro.

Well, one Tuesday night he met this girl whose name was also Chris. Me, Zar and Doyle were not huge fans of hers. Because of this we started to see less and less of Dusza, which meant less rides to school and more time on the bus for Nick.

One of us would usually try to get a hold of Dusza the night before to see if we could count on a ride to school from him or not. Well, one particular Sunday I tried in vain to reach Dusza. Like I mentioned I was not a fan of taking the bus so, I decided to try to track him down. I knew damn well where he was, at his girlfriends house.

So, as I headed out for the evening in Dell’s Impala with Jim Lave along for the ride, I directed Dell to her abode (as I had been there a couple of times) to see if I could count on Dusza for a ride the next morning. We pulled into the driveway and sure enough there is Dusza’s ride sitting in front of the house, so I knew he was there.

I went up to the door and rang the bell and got no answer. I knocked on the door and still nothing. Why, I didn’t just walk away I have no idea, but I persisted. I re-rang the bell and knocked some more. Eventually, Dusza’s girl comes to the door wearing only his shirt. In the most awkward moment of my young life I ask if he is there. She then yells for him. Dusza makes his way to the door shirtless with the look of someone who had just been cock-blocked. And simply says, What?

I was mortified. I then try to explain about needing to know if he was going to provide a ride the next day. He eventually tells me to hold on and he will be out in a bit. At this point I can see Lave and Dell with a half mortified, half laughing their ass off look on their faces. Dusza comes out and I then proceed to have a terribly awkward conversation. I began it with so, what’s up and it all went downhill from there. Dell and Lave didn’t utter one syllable the entire time. (To this day Dell, will when remembering this incident call it the Nick Francone Show.) We all knew that I had interrupted his afternoon coitus session but no one spoke of it. The entire conversation outside lasted five minutes but it seemed like days before I finally ended the horror and we went on our way. Ironically enough Dusza was kind enough to give me a ride to school the next day.


The Wedding Salad
I was working at Kmart. I worked with a girl there named Cindy. At the time I was dating Jenny, and she was dating another Kmart friend Jeff. Jeff had recently gone away to school in Kentucky and Cindy needed a date to her cousin’s wedding. She asked me and I figured a free meal is a free meal, so I agreed.

Other then Cindy I knew absolutely nobody else there. But, I have always fancied myself as someone who when in a room full of strangers finds a way to make conversation. At the reception we were seated at a table with I believe Cindy’s sister and like six or seven other people. Obviously I had no idea who they were and have never seen them since.

The reception was at the Chateau Bu-Sche in Alsip. Anyone that has ever been to a wedding where you are placed at a table where you don’t know anyone knows what usually happens. A lot of small talk is made and some get to know you conversation takes place usually centered on how you know the bride and groom. This was the case as we all took our seats.

I must also point out that I am Italian and as such I have a tendency to talk with my hands. It is something that I do subconsciously. I don’t realize I am doing it but, I know that I do. This little nugget of information will play a major role in the story.

So the soup comes and the usual talk is taking place. Eventually, the second course comes which of course is a house salad. I lather on the French dressing and at some point I am in the middle of telling some story or something. I have at this point placed my fork on the edge of the salad plate. Midway through my, what I am sure was about to me an amusing antidote, my left hand comes down right onto the fork. This causes the fork to go flying upwards sending a nice piece of iceberg lettuce doused with dressing on it to skyrocket over my left shoulder and onto the wall behind me where I am sitting.

The piece of lettuce just sticks to the wall and then slowly proceeds to slowly drip down said wall leaving a trail mark of Nick’s shame. Everyone at the table just froze the instant this takes place. It all felt like it was happening in slow motion. At the exact moment I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a whole and disappear.

Cindy, my date helps things out by laughing hysterically at the site of it. I am mortified. I knew the whole night I was doomed to be known as the guy who jettisoned a piece of lettuce and there was nothing I could do. I figured I better start drinking to ease the embarrassment. It was at this moment I found out the couple was very religious and there would be no alcohol at the reception. So, ya that wedding kind of sucked.

The Toilet Invasion
This story is one I am not sure I have ever told to anyone. Not a soul. I have kept it hidden for years because the mere thought of it still haunts me to this day. Again, this takes place when I was dating Jenny.

I would spend a lot of time at her mom’s house. Her step-dad worked the late shift and her mom would go to bed around 9 so, that meant we could play house and kick back and watch movies and fool around on her couch in the living room.

I, as I am today am always trying to find a laugh in almost any situation. I think I view it as a form of acceptance if I can make people laugh. Of the many qualities that first attracted me to Joyce was her laughing at my antics. Even after seven years of marriage she still has not tired of my comedy routines.

Anyway, I digress. Jenny was a tad tougher of a crowd. But, she too somehow found me funny and I was always trying to find a way to make her laugh. I swear a woman’s belly laugh to me is a bigger aphrodisiac then seeing a naked boob. However, I was twenty one at the time and my material was not as honed shall we say as it is today.

One of my “bits” was to surprise her when either she was in the bathroom or changing in her room and either say something stupid or do some stupid dance. Why I thought this was funny I have no idea, but it must have worked.

Usually once Jenny’s mom hit her bedroom she was out for the night. So, the hijinks of course only intensified from that point in the evening. One night Jenny and I are either watching television or a movie in the front room. Jenny gets up to what I assume was to use the can. Now, at this point I must point out that her house only had one facility.

What I didn’t realize was that Jenny didn't head to the bathroom but instead into her bedroom for God knows what. I wait a minute and figure I will use the opportunity to catch her on the pot and try to strike comedy gold. I am sure if you have read this far you can predict what happened instead.

I head to the bathroom and the door is closed. (To this day I don’t know why it wasn’t locked.) I burst open the door not to find my girlfriend on the can but instead her mom. Her mom lets out a shriek of horror and I run out of there faster than a cheetah. As much as I have tried the visual haunts me to this day. I have no words to describe the level of uncomfortableness I felt for oh, the next 3 years we dated when I dealt with her mom.

We never spoke of what happened and I never breathed a word of it to Jenny. The irony is that for some reason her mom still liked me. Even after I saw her at her most vulnerable she kept the secret and pretended like it never happened. Still, the mere memory of it causes me so much embarrassment, that even today almost 20 years later I still get red faced when thinking about it.